A/N
SPOILER ALERT!
If you haven't watched season 3 episode 1 The Empty Hearse, then don't read!
Unless you're a fearless bastard who isn't afraid of spoilers. Then I bow to you.
This is my first Sherlock fic! I hope you enjoy! :-)
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock... I
Hero
Tick, tick. The timer was counting down. There was but a few minutes before the bomb would activate and blow up the whole of Westminster Palace. If they did not hurry, lots of people would die. The curly-haired genius was desperately scrutinising the ticking bomb, trying to find a clue about how to defuse it. The other male was watching helplessly, yelling at him to find the solution. He always did. Suddenly, the pale man rested his hands on his knees.
"I can't do it" he muttered while still looking at the bomb in front of him
"Say again?" the slightly older man replied. The man broke his gaze with the bomb, and looked up at the man with his cold green eyes.
"I can't defuse it, John" he said very slowly as if he was speaking to a child. John started shaking his head vigorously.
"No, you're just saying that. There's no way you can't not do it. There has to be something!" he was yelling at this point.
"You can do it! If you can't, then who can? You're bloody Sherlock Holmes!" John screamed. He studied Sherlock's face, looking for some evidence that he knew how to defuse it, and just didn't want to say it. But the look in his friends eyes were full of doubt and had no confidence whatsoever. This was it. The Sherlock Holmes had met his match.
Tick, tick. The clock was still counting down. John was lost in his mind, trying to comprehend that there was nothing to be done. Suddenly, Sherlock stood up.
"There might be something..." He said in that mysterious yet sexy voice.
"What? What is it? What can I do?" John said with a new flash of hope and belief in his best friend.
"Nothing. In fact you're quite a resistance" Sherlock answered calmly. John gawked.
"Excuse me?"
"If you don't mind. I can't really think while you're whining over there, so please do excuse yourself" Sherlock kneeled next to the bomb once more and closed his eyes in deep thought.
"Wha-"
"Really, you just love to be a nuisance. This was the reason I came back - to figure out the underground-terrorist-organisation's plan - and here you are meddling with my business. Won't you let me do my job properly?" As he spoke, Sherlock didn't once look at John. Instead he kept his gaze on the bomb. Therefore he missed the mixed look of surprise, hurt and a tiny bit of betrayal on John's face.
"Oh" John uttered when he finally found the ability to speak.
"So I'm just a nuisance, am I? We'll I'm sorry I didn't mean to meddle in your business. I'll leave it to you then" he finally said, his voice sometimes reaching a high pitch. With watery eyes he angrily walked out of the car and hurried away from the place that could sooner or later blow up. He didn't see the green eyes looking as he walked away, as well as he didn't hear the consulting-detective breathe a deep: "Finally".
Fortunately, the timer was quite long. At first, it had counted down from 30 minutes. When John had left, it had been down to 10 minutes, which was just enough to let him get out of the endangered area. Sherlock knew that. That's why he let him leave... He now had less than 10 minutes to defuse a bomb - which he had no idea how to. But John was not in danger anymore, and he trusted him to let the police evacuate the area. That's all they could reach in the short period of time. They couldn't manage to get down and defuse the bomb. Sherlock knew that too. So really, the only thing that would go down with the bomb was Westminster Palace. Oh, and himself. But he didn't count the latter for much. And right now, John probably didn't either.
Just as Sherlock had predicted, the area around Westminster Palace had been cleared. The police were on their way with a bomb disposer, even though he didn't know, if Sherlock had already defused it. John was about to hail a cab, when he heard a large bang. It was a horrible sight as the whole of Westminster Palace collapsed and was consumed in a big fire.
"Oh god" he muttered. His legs suddenly swayed unevenly, causing him to fall to his knees.
"Oh god" he repeated. This was not real. It couldn't be! This was all some sort of nightmare. But it wasn't. He knew all too well the feeling he had right now, and he hated it. The feeling of loosing someone close to you. The feeling of loosing Sherlock. Oh god, Sherlock! He hadn't been able to defuse the bomb. Why hadn't he been able to do that? Oh, god. Why? Why did he leave him? Why did he leave his best friend with a ticking bomb? Because he was mad? Because he was jealous, that he didn't come back because of him, but because of a job?
Oh god. John didn't even register the tears that fell from his eyes and formed rivers on the pavement. He heard screams, cries and sirens but thought not of it. The only thing he could think of, was Sherlock's pale body with his blood splattered across the sidewalk as he had seen it two years ago. But this time, there wouldn't be a body. Deep in despair he didn't notice as some strong arms took hold of him and carried him into a car. They were driving to Mycroft, had the chauffeur said when John finally got a hold of himself.
Of course, he thought. Mycroft would want to know. If Sher- if he was there at the explosion. John corrected himself, incapable of even thinking the name of his dearest friend.
"I see" was all Mycroft had to say, after having heard a sob-full explanation from John.
"It's funny how far he'd go for a case. Even coming back and risking everyone knowing about him being alive for a mere case" John said in a hurtful tone, not thinking it was amusing at all. Mycroft looked questioning at him.
"What do you mean?" He asked.
"Well, you know, the fact that he came back just for this case... It shows how devoted he is - was..." John said, adding the last part quietly.
"But he didn't just come back for the case. He would never come back just because I asked him to help me. No, that was just an excuse to return to London".
John frowned.
"But... He clearly said... Then why did he come back?" John asked in deep confusion. Mycroft looked at him as if the answer was obvious - it reminded him of Sherlock, John thought with a pain in his heart.
"The only thing that kept him going the past years. The thing that gives him great strength, but at the same time is his greatest weakness. You, of course" Mycroft said. The surprised look on John's face could not be overrated.
"Wha- me? What do you mean?"
"We'll it's obvious, isn't it" Mycroft said. Receiving a frown once more, Mycroft explained.
"You are the first person who thought his talents to be, and I quote, 'amazing'. He has never opened up to anyone as much as he has to you. The first person he really cared about. The first person to make him feel normal in situations where he needed it. You were his first friend". John was stunned. His mouth was shaped in an 'o' while he tried to take in all that Mycroft had just told him.
"But he-" he began, but then stopped mid sentence. He remembered the time just before Sherlock had jumped off that roof. He had gotten a call that Mrs. Hudson was shot, and Sherlock didn't seem to care at all about it. He had left angry, but then found out that Mrs. Hudson was alright. That's when he realised it had all been a setup. A setup, so Sherlock could get on the roof, and John could not save him before it was too late. It was equal to this time.
"Oh god" John muttered once more as he realised the truth. All those things Sherlock had said, about him being a nuisance and meddling with his things, and that he had only returned for the sake of a job, was all a lie to make John leave. He knew, he couldn't defuse the bomb, so he made sure that the person who mattered the most to him, was out of danger. He knew which buttons to press in John, so that he was sure to leave. After all, he had done it before.
"Oh god" he choked as the tears once more found their way to his eyes. This was the second time he had fallen for it. This was the second time Sherlock had sacrificed himself in order to keep him safe. This was the second time the world would not know the deeds the wonderful man had done. He had always denied himself of being a hero. But that was the best word to describe him according to John. As he felt himself slipping into the darkness, he had tried to be in, when Sherlock jumped off that roof, he could only think, that the world might think Sherlock Holmes as a fake.
But John, thought of him as a hero.
His hero.