Joan Watson entered the brownstone calling out Sherlock's name.
"Sherlock, " Watson called.
A faint moaning came from the third floor.
Watson didn't bother the call the detective's name again, instead she broke into a run up the stairs hoping that Sherlock was okay.
Her instincts told her differently though. Something was wrong and she knew it.
Watson ran into the room Sherlock was in and was taken aback at the sight. On the floor lay a dead Isaac Proctor and bleeding Sherlock Holmes.
Watson ran over to Sherlock and knelt down next to him. She quickly checked for a pulse, before taking out her phone and dialing 911.
After the call she placed her hands on the back of Sherlock's shoulder and began adding pressure.
As soon as Watson began adding pressure Sherlock let out a painful groan.
"Sherlock," Watson said. "Open your eyes for me."
Sherlock managed to open his eyes a little before closing them tightly, muttering, "Hurts."
"I know it does, but I need you to open your eyes and try to stay awake until help arrives," Watson stated.
Sherlock opened his eyes, turned his head a little and quietly replied, "You could remove the bullet and patch me up."
"Sherlock, you've lost a lot of blood," Watson pointed out." You need professional help."
"Irene is Moriarty," Sherlock stated, trying to concentrate on the case.
Watson didn't know if what Sherlock was saying was true or just some incoherent muttering due to the pain and blood loss
"I'll tell Gregson," Watson promised. "Just stay quiet, help is on the way."
Watson sat in the waiting room at the hospital, impatiently waiting for news on the British consultant she ad come to know and care about.
As soon as the ambulance pulled up to the hospital, Sherlock was unloaded and rushed to OR.
Watson tried to follow, but a nurse had stopped her and asked for any information she had on Sherlock.
After telling the nurse the Sherlock was a former drug addict, she had been escorted to the waiting room.
That was three hours ago though, and still no word on the injured consultant's condition.
As the fourth hour came to a close a doctor walked into the waiting room and said, "Sherlock Holmes."
Watson stood up from her seat and asked, "How is he?"
The doctor walked over to her before saying, "We removed the bullet, but it left a lot if damage to the muscle in his shoulder. We repaired some of the damage. The rest of the muscle will eventually repair itself on its own over time. He also lost a lot of blood, probably due to how long it took for help to arrive. Right now we have him in the ICU. Hopefully when he wakes up we'll be able to move him to a regular room."
"How long until he wakes up," Watson asked
"He could wake up sometime this evening or he could wake up in a couple of days," the doctor replied. "It all really depends on how his body decides to heal."
"What are you going to do for the pain," Watson asked.
"Since he's a former drug addict we're going to keep the pain medication to a minimum and make sure that they're non-addictive," the doctor explained.
"May I go see him," Watson asked curiously.
"Only for a little bit," the doctor answered. "I'll have a nurse come take you to his room. Just wait here"