Always by your side
Chapter 1: Bullet
It wasn't Sherlock's fault, not this time. They had done everything right. Called Lestrade, informed him about the killer's location and waited very patiently for him and the back up before they entered the building. It was just bad luck and someone had to pay for it. John was glad he could choose who it was.
As they entered the building the team separated to search through the many rooms. Sherlock and John together as always. John was the only one armed and therefore tried to go first but Sherlock like always went first. The rooms only light came from the ceiling. A naked bulb was hanging down and moving a bit, a dirty and broken mirror was on the wall, nothing else. At the end of the room was a doorway leading to the next room. Moving forward silently like a cat, Sherlock was close to the door as John caught a reflection in the mirror. The suspect with the murder weapon aimed at Sherlock.
John knew what would happen. The man would shoot Sherlock directly into his heart and he would be alone again. There was no real decision to be made, it was selfish and maybe cruel to choose but this bullet would never hit his fiend. John moved fast, faster than ever before in his life and stood in front of Sherlock covering him less than a second after the bullet had left the chamber. The impact of it pushed him against a surprised detective who caught him in his arms and they sunk down on the dirty floor together.
John could feel how the massive brain of his friend was working or better trying to work out what happened. Nearly unconscious he wasn't able tell Sherlock to get cover, there was still someone with a gun in the next room.
But Sherlock didn't care about that as he laid John on the ground and tried to keep his blood in the body where it belongs to. Sherlock covered the wound with his hands but more and more blood was coming out. John focused on Sherlock's face and saw tears. They were the first real tears John saw. Strange things appear in your mind when you are dying, he thought.
Sherlock looked desperate and started pleading. "Please John, don't leave me alone. I can't… I can't do this without you, please." More tears came out of the detective eyes and fell down on John mixing them with his blood. John took one of his last deep breathes to do something even more selfish. But instead of words coughing comes out together with more blood. "No. No don't speak, help is on the way. Don't go without me. I don't want to be alone again, stay a bit longer, please."
Sally Donavan was the first one in the room followed by Lestrade. They had heard the shot. The suspect was caught not a minute later outside but that wasn't important. She hadn't thought it would hit her that hard. It took every movement out of her body and she stopped in shock at the picture that was painted in red in front of her. Lestrade was calling for an ambulance, shouting in his radio they should hurry. But he couldn't go closer to both men on the ground, the one lying bleeding out, the other one over him crying. Both covered in blood and everyone in this room knew: John Watson wouldn't make it.
She could hear Sherlock's pleading and saw the blood running out of John's body. As the man on the ground started to talk, Sherlock and everyone else stopped in making noises.
John's voice wasn't more than a whisper. "Sher… Sherlock, listen to me. It's not your fault. I decided… not your fault." She could see more tears coming out of Sherlock's eyes and his hand starting to shake. "Couldn't let you go. You can still do in… incredible things." Sherlock's head shook like he wanted him to stop but he was listening to every word. "You have to… speak for the dead... and help the living to heal." A cough went through the doctor's body and he had to take a break. It cost him all of his strength to continue, he knows it's his last chance to tell Sherlock the things he wants to say.
"You won't be alone, you can't give… up." John's breathing was becoming more and more of a fight the next one more painful than the last one. "Promise me you will go on; promise me… not to follow… me too soon. Promise me you will go on living." John's eyes started to close and Sherlock shouted John's name over and over again. The last thing the doctor gave Sherlock was a smile and Sally could swear she heard a 'sorry' before his heart stopped and Sherlock broke down on John's chest, weeping. She had to turn away, she couldn't watch this.
Greg Lestrade was witness to the death of one of his friends and the breakdown of another. He couldn't save John and he couldn't help Sherlock. Lost in thinking about what would happen now he didn't see the paramedics entering the room. Too late to save the one on the ground. All they could do was pronounce the time of death. One of them tried to get Sherlock away from John. Bad idea. Sherlock fought them and tried to keep John Watson's lifeless body close.
Lestrade decided that now was the time to do something. He laid a hand on the paramedic's shoulder; the man understood and took a step back. Lestrade kneeled next to Sherlock; he tried not to touch the blood. He laid one hand on Sherlock's arm to get his attention. "Sherlock. I'm so sorry but you have to let him go. You can't help him anymore." The crying didn't stop but Sherlock's hands stopped holding John's jacket so tightly. Very gently Lestrade moved Sherlock's hands away. At first they resisted but in the end Sherlock let it happen. He lifted his head and stared down at his friend.
Lestrade felt the loss of temperature in Sherlock's hands. He ordered a shock blanket and one of the paramedics laid the orange fabric around Sherlock's shoulder. Both watched the paramedic laid John's body into a body bag preparing him for transport. There was a bit of resistance as they brought John out of the room but nothing else came from Sherlock. He sat there on the dirty floor, he looked small under the blanket, his eyes were fixed on the point John's face had been a minute ago.
Whatever Lestrade tried to do or say brought no reaction from Sherlock's side. As Sally called him he got up and walked over to her. He could read the shock in her face too. "His brother is here." She told him.
Sherlock's brother, Mycroft, came into the room. Lestrade walked over to him. Before Lestrade could ask how he knew what had happened, the man started to talk. "I was informed. I'm here to pick up my brother; he won't be of great use for you right now." He gave Lestrade his card with an address and a number. "If you need something he will be there, please call first." Without waiting for an answer Mycroft walked over to Sherlock, ignoring Lestrade and the rest of the police force.
Mycroft Holmes looked down at the figure that had once his strong and stubborn little brother. He had no idea how to fix this situation. But first he needed to get him away from this place that would now become Sherlock's personal hell.
Mycroft got down and gentle laid his hand on his brother's shoulder. "Let's go home." Words filled with understanding and love flew over to Sherlock who moved for the first time since John's body had been taken away. "Why?" Empty and lost eyes looked at him and if Mycroft had known that these would be Sherlock's last word for a very long time, he would have tried to get more out of him. Instead he lifted Sherlock on his feet and led him out. They didn't see the worried looks that followed them out.
The black car that had waited outside brought them to Mycroft's house. Sherlock let it all happen. As they went inside he didn't resist as Mycroft lead him into the bathroom helping him to wash off John's blood from his hands, the dirt of the room from his skin and the tears from his face. He helped Sherlock to get dressed again and Sherlock took the pill Mycroft gave him. A sleeping pill. It's started working the second Sherlock lay in bed and he was asleep within seconds as Mycroft put the heavy blanket over him.
He couldn't do more, not at the moment. Mycroft stayed in Sherlock's room watching over his sleeping brother and waiting for the next day. The first day without John Watson at Sherlock's side.