So Here is my first Sherlock Holmes fanfiction

no beta and I love Watson and Holmes

I own nothing I know sad day

enjoy and review

Watson always told him to bring his revolver, and yet he never listened. Why? If he'd listened to Watson then they wouldn't be in this situation. They wouldn't be on their knees, arms tied behind their back, with a gun at both their heads and a second gun man standing by them. Yet Holmes never listened to his friend's advice. Why?

Holmes looked at Watson; he was only a few feet away, yet he was so far. He tried to think of a way to escape. If he moved or attacked the man behind him they would shoot Watson without a second thought. If both of them ducked or tried to get away both of them would be killed. Lestrade wouldn't come in at the last second to save them, the inspector didn't eve know that Holmes and Watson were on this case. Why didn't Holmes allow Watson to tell the Scotland Yard? There was no way out.

Every possibility resulted in them being killed. The great Sherlock Holmes had been defeated, and now they were going to die. Holmes never imagined it would happen like this. Today they were die. The question now was who would be killed first? Would they kill Holmes just to get it out of the way, or would they kill Watson in hopes of making him suffer?

"Now, which of these buggahs do we kill first?" The man in the middle asked. He eyed the two men. Different ideas played in each of the men's' head, each one worse than the one before.

The silence seemed to linger for an eternity. "I say we make the detective suff'r." One of the men spoke, Holmes didn't see which one, but it didn't matter. Murmurs were heard as each of the men agreed.

Sherlock heard them agreeing to make him watch them kill Watson, his Watson. "Prepare to die, doctor." The ring leader said. No, dear God, no! Even Holmes knew he would rather die than see that, being useless as his friend, his only friend, was killed before his very eyes because of him.

"That's a bad idea." One of the men opposed- no wait not any man, Watson. "It's better to kill Holmes first." All of the men looked at him bombarding him with questions about why that was and how stupid he was. Watson looked up to the designer of this torture and said with a strait and serious mask. "Scotland Yard will be here any minute, I called along them without Holmes's knowledge or permission." Holmes knew that was a complete lie, yet Watson looked so serious that Holmes found himself doubting his thoughts.

"No you ain't!" Called one of the men, the one behind Holmes.

Watson fixed his cold gaze on him. "Of course I did. You claimed to have read about us, so you have some knowledge about how I act. Holmes knew this case would be life threatening and he encouraged me to stay back. I wouldn't allow that so I sent a secret wire to Scotland Yard alerting them of our intentions and knowledge of this case. Lestrade told me he would send someone to watch after us." Watson's story was convincing and he would have believed it himself if it weren't for the fact that after Holmes had told him about the case they immediately left, no time to talk to anyone and Holmes was next to him every second. "It would be better for all of us if you killed Holmes first."

The man in the middle glared at him, yet his was gentile hearted compared to Watson's. Holmes knew why his companion was doing this, save Holmes from the torture. The younger man wanted to protest but his tongue felt heavy as led in his mouth. He couldn't seem to utter a word. The killers on the other hand continued to speak; "Now why'd we go 'head and listen to ya?" One sneered.

Watson's blue eyes were as cold as the ice their color matched. "Because it would work out best for the both of us. By the time Scotland Yard shows up Sherlock Holmes will be dead and no matter if they showed up before or after you kill me all of you will be known as the men who did what no one could. You would have killed Sherlock Holmes and made him suffer more than you realize."

"And how would that work in mak'n him suffah, doc?" The man asked, Sherlock didn't focus on which one all his attention was on Watson.

"Because, Holmes believes in karma, you know what that is? What goes around comes around. So if he were to get off with an easy death while I had to suffer watch him die in his next life he would suffer ten time more." That was a lie, Sherlock believed that after this life there was nothing, no karma, no reincarnation, just death. "Plus it would kill him in the after life to know that he got off easily while he was unknowing to if I lived, died, or suffered." That was true it would kill the detective, he hated being unaware of how his Boswell was fairing, even after his 'death' at Reichenbach the detective made sure he got regular updates on John Watson.

"And what do ya get outta this? Kill'n 'im off first?" That was the question on everyone's mind. John would lie, oh God would he lie. And Holmes knew it would be a good one at that.

"Me? Well you all would be doing me a favor. I am bloody sick of this mad man! Why do you think I've gotten married so many times? To get away from him. He and his insane experiments, playing his bloody violin at three in the morning, not taking the slightest interest in my well being! I've always wanted to kill him myself but I care of what people think of me and I would never want to tarnish my reputation. But I figure it would be just as good to see him suffer and die than kill the man myself." The sleuth was right, oh was he right, but he wished he wasn't. Watson's comment was too convincing for comfort. He had a sickening feeling inside him as he heard Watson talk, trying to convince the men that he hated him, wanted him dead, just so he could save him from suffering. Any other person would agree with Watson saying that he was insane for staying with him all these years but he never minded, he never cared what other people thought. John Watson was the most self sacrificing man Sherlock Holmes had ever seen or met...and he hated it. Why couldn't Watson save himself for once? Why did he always have to be looking out for Holmes? Why couldn't Holmes save him the one time he needed to?

The detective wanted to cry to call out and stop Watson, to save him for once, but the shock of all this kept him silent. There was the selfish part of him that didn't care what Watson was saying the part that just didn't want to suffer and wanted to make Watson pay for hurting him and making him feel so guilty. "And besides," Watson continued. "If the Yard would just happen to show up before you killed me then I would at least get to continue living unlike that arrogant prick."

He thought he knew everything that could and would happen in a situation. Hell, Sherlock would bet anything he could for see the outcome, but here was one situation, the one outcome he would have never expected. Not even he could have seen it coming, yet he kicked himself, it was the most likely. Of course John Watson would do anything to make sure Sherlock Holmes didn't suffer, that included hurting Sherlock himself.

The detective wasn't sure of who said what next, what words were exchanged; he just forced his grey eyes to meet Watson's. Those innocent blue eyes cleared any doubts Sherlock had. Those blue eyes spoke volumes. They showed the silent apologies that Watson wished with everything he had to say aloud. They told him of the guilt John was feeling and they somehow comforted Sherlock even now, when Watson should be concerned about himself. The only thing he was aware of was the gun that was now pointed at him. He murmured a goodbye to Watson, as he watched his friends eyes fill up with tears, as he tried to talk to the captors. But all Holmes heard was silence, deathly, annoying, silence. Silence until shouting.

Oh thank God, not just any shouting Lestrade's shouting. Reassuring sounds that help actually was on the way. Grey met blue both brimming with happiness and joy. They would live Lestrade would get to them and they would live! At least that's what Holmes thought until the gun came back into view, the condemned men's shouting overpowering his hearing like sitting front row at an opera. The gun was waved around angrily then pointed at the two men. God, no, please no! They were so close to escaping, to living. All that was left was for Lestrade to burst in the room and take down the men. And once again he was right Lestrade did arrive just in time but he couldn't take down the men soon enough.

A shot was fired, Holmes was in so much pain, all he could see was Watson, his blue eyes shining and yet they seemed so distant, and the red dye that stained everything, all else just seemed to be blurred in black and white. He could barely hear the other guns being fired the only thing he could truly focus on was Watson shouting at him making sure he was alright. Reassuring him that he would be alright, that he would live. Even now Watson was trying to comfort Holmes. It did no help as Watson's voice was fading and soon he was falling, it seemed so slow, like it wanted Holmes to remember each agonizing second before the harsh crash on the ground. The deathly silence was all the sleuth could hear as everything began spinning and his world faded to black.

Right-y Oh so ya heres the story tell me what you think and want to happen and pick some of the provided choices (other comments are inspiring and encouraged):

_Live _Die _More _Keep it a oneshot _I dont care

ps I would love reviews

Thanks

mach-tan