Disclaimer: Sherlock, along with its characters, location, etc. are the property of BBC and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I do not own them, though I definitely wouldn't mind being on a first name basis with Benedict Cumberbatch ;)
Summary: AU the night of Mary's death. Instead of blaming Sherlock, John collapses into him and grieves. Molly watches after Rosie while Sherlock takes John back to 221B to take care of him. Shows a very strong bond between Sherlock and John, but no Johnlock. One-Shot. Rated T.
A/N: Pretty much all of my Sherlock fics include some form of Johnlock, or at least hint at it, but this one doesn't. The only reason I didn't include it is because this story takes place the night Mary died, and I don't think either John or Sherlock would be thinking about making out or anything on a night like that. But this story does show a very strong bond between Sherlock and John, it's just not romantic at this point. Please leave a review if you liked it!
TL/DR: No Johnlock because Mary just died. Strong, platonic bond between Sherlock and John. Please review!
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I'm Here
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Sherlock stood in a state of shock as he watched his best friend press a hand into his wife stomach, desperately trying to hold in the blood that was seeping between his fingers. He could see the strength slipping from Mary, and her eyes drooping.
If only he hadn't let her take the bullet for him, maybe she would still have a chance to grow old with John and raise their beautiful daughter together. Now, because Sherlock had let her jump in the way, Mary was dying in the arms of her husband, and his best friend, while he stood and watched.
Sherlock saw, with gut-wrenching sorrow, the last little bit of light die from Mary's eyes. Her hand slid of John's, and her head drooped. She was gone.
John bowed his head and took his hand from Mary's stomach. He all but screamed, staring at the floor to try to compose himself.
Sherlock, though worried that John would blame him, reached out with one of his hands toward his best friend. "John, I am…I can't…God, I'm so sorry…" Sherlock muttered. He kneeled down to the side of his beloved doctor and tried to gauge a reaction from him. He lightly placed a hand on the veteran's shoulder, testing the waters.
All of a sudden, John flung himself at Sherlock, sobs tearing through him like a hurricane. Sherlock nearly fell over when this happened, but he caught himself and John just in time to stay upright and cling to his best friend. He motioned for everyone else to leave the room, all but Lestrade.
"Lestrade, have Molly look after Rosie tonight, please. I want to take John back to Baker Street. He shouldn't have to worry about his daughter tonight." Sherlock whispered, holding John's shaking form tightly in his arms.
"No problem, mate. Take care of him, will you?" Lestrade looked at John with nothing short of devastation in his eyes.
"I won't let him down tonight, Greg." Sherlock replied.
Lestrade briefly placed a hand on John's shoulder, trying to give him a small bit of comfort, before nodding to Sherlock and leaving the room. Sherlock and John were the only living people left in there. John was clinging to Sherlock's lapel for dear life, while Sherlock was embracing his friend and trying not to break down himself. John needed him to be strong right now.
"John, let's go home." Sherlock muttered. He managed to stand up without letting go of John, and planned to stand there until John was ready to leave. "I can have one of Mycroft's men drive us to Baker Street, since taking a cab probably wouldn't work out well." Sherlock wasn't exactly sure how to comfort his friend, but he figured he should get the two of them out of there before he even tried.
"I…can't…" John sobbed.
"Shhh. It's okay, John. I've got you." Sherlock shushed John and continued to hold him.
John was utterly broken. He had moved his hands when they had stood up, wrapping his arms around Sherlock's waist under his coat. He had his face pressed into Sherlock's chest, and Sherlock could already feel that his shirt was totally soaked through by John's tears. Despite trying his hardest to stay strong for his beloved doctor, Sherlock could feel tears welling in his eyes. He didn't remember the last time that had happened.
Sherlock pulled his left hand from John's shoulders and reached it up to cup the back of the veteran's head, gently holding his face into his own shoulder. Sherlock bent his face down and rested his forehead on John's head, trying to be there for his grieving friend.
"John, we've got to get out of here." Sherlock muttered. He felt John nod against his shoulder.
Sherlock sighed and briefly tightened his hold on his best friend before pulling his left hand away from John's head and reaching into his coat pocket for his phone. In no time, he had texted Mycroft and asked for one of his men to pick them up and take them to Baker Street. Usually, because Mycroft despised texting, he would call Sherlock as soon as the younger brother had texted the older. Tonight, however, Sherlock got an instantaneous text message that read "Of course, brother mine. He's on his way, should be there in five minutes, tops. Do take care of Doctor Watson, won't you?"
"That's my intention, Mycroft. Thank you." Sherlock replied.
He slowly pulled away from John, wiping at the tear tracks on the doctor's face with his thumb. John had calmed enough to stop sobbing, but he still looked utterly defeated.
"Mycroft has a man on the way to take us to Baker Street. Molly is watching Rosie tonight. You're going to spend the night at my place tonight, John." Sherlock stated softly.
Instead of arguing like Sherlock thought he would, John just nodded minutely. Sherlock grasped his best friend's hand and lead him to the exit, nodding toward the forensics team that they could go in on the way.
There was already a black car with tinted windows sitting at the curb when Sherlock and John made it out of the building. Sherlock opened the car door and motioned for John to slide in, taking the seat beside him. Instantly, the driver pulled away from the curb and in the direction of Baker Street.
Sherlock still had ahold of John's hand, and wasn't going to let go until they got home. He wanted to hold John together until they had enough privacy for him to break down. John, though he was grasping Sherlock's hand just as tightly as Sherlock was grasping his, was stoic. He was staring at the back of the seat in front of him in total silence.
After about seven minutes, the car pulled up outside of 221B Baker Street. Sherlock got out and gently pulled John out with him, by the time Sherlock made it to the door of the flat, the car had already disappeared into the night. Sherlock pulled his key out of his coat pocket with his free hand and jabbed it into the key hole, rushing inside and up the stairs with John trailing behind.
When the duo entered the flat, Sherlock discarded his coat and scarf onto his chair, while John sat on the couch and stared at the floor. All too soon, Sherlock saw tears splashing to the floor.
"John…" Sherlock had been planning on making tea for the two of them, but he abandoned that thought instantly when he saw John crying. He rushed over and sat beside John on the couch, putting a comforting arm around his shoulders. John, perhaps unconsciously, leaned into the touch and rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder, finally turning into his best friend when the sobs started to come back. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's shoulders protectively, feeling a tear fall from his eye and drip into John's hair.
"It's okay, John. I'm here."