John was standing in the door frame, panting. His old service side-arm in his hand. Some time after Lestrade had left them at the Yard Sherlock noticed another detail in the report that let him to the conclusion that Greydon was not only the lover of the victim but as well an ex Mafia killer. He tried to reach Lestrade to warn him about that but he wasn't answering his phone. So they flagged down a taxi and made their way quickly to Greydon's address.
A single gunshot rang through the house.
Death wasn't as painless as he expected it to be, Lestrade thought .It seems that the weight on his chest had just increased. Pain flared through his abdomen and chest. Every breath he took was getting more and more painful, harder and were delivering him less and less oxygen. He thought of giving it up, maybe that would give him some well deserved comfort.
Suddenly he heard a well known, voice. "Lestrade, open you eyes, can you do that for me? You've gotta stay awake and keep breathing".
John? What was John doing here Lestrade wondered while he tried to open eyelids that suddenly felt like they where made of concrete. He really tried but he had now strength at all. The solely task of breathing was using all of his stamina. "Come on, Lestrade, help is here soon. Stay with us" Lestrade felt himself drifting away. He tried to ask John why he was here but the words where lost in a wet cough and Lestrade could feel something warm and wet running from the corner of his mouth, tasting the tale tell tang of copper in his mouth. "Shhh, don't try to talk, just concentrate on breathing, everything is fine. Greydon's been taken care of"
"Sherlock, give me your coat and hold Lestrade's hand, talk to him, say anything to comfort him" John shouted to Sherlock, who was leaning over Greydon, inspecting the bullet hole in the back of his head.
Lestrade felt his hand being picked up, being hold tight and that gave him some slight comfort. It was his connection to the real world while his body got weaker and weaker and he could feel himself slipping into unconsciousness. He listened to Sherlock blabbering away, what an idiot he is going in here alone, that John made Sherlock talk to Sally on his phone and that she didn't call him freak once out of concern for him and that she is on her way...he was really trying to hold onto this lifeline but trying to get some precious oxygen into his lungs was now a nearly impossible task.
The last thing Lestrade remembered before passing out was John reassuring him that everything is fine and that he'll be as good as new in no time.
John knew it was a lie. Lestrade would have a hell of a recovery if he made it. The two bullets that entered the DI'S Chest have most likely shattered his ribcage and tore through his lungs given the location of the entry wounds. He didn't want to think about the damage the bullet to the abdomen might have done. Wounds to the abdomen are always messy but what frightened him the most was the lack of an exit wound, unlike with the two chest wounds. He knew that it could mean that the bullet was lodged in the DI's spine but he pushed the thought back and applied more pressure to the wounds on Lestrade's stomach and chest.
John felt a wave of relive when he could heard the sirens of the ambulance in the distance. Lestrade's breathing was virtually non existent and John wasn't sure how long he could keep Lestrade alive without professional equipment.
"Sherlock, get out and show the medics the way" he said turning to Sherlock who was still holding the DI's hand even after he had long lost consciousness.
As soon as the Paramedics entered the room John filled them in with the status of the patient and while they where cutting away Lestrade's shirt to gain better access to his wounds John sat back and watched them work.
The Paramedics hooked Lestrade up to a heart rate monitor and some IVs and while one medic put an mask on Lestrade's face to help his laboured breathing, the other one performed a chest decompression with a needle thoracostomy. He flinched, that didn't look good at all.
Suddenly John heard an alarming sound from the monitor.
„Shit," one of the medics spit out. „The patient is going into shock. We need to get him to the hospital quickly"
„He stopped breathing, give me the intubation kit."
A flat tone was now heard from the monitor. „Cardiac arrest! Start CPR!"
John couldn't bare to watch this. The paramedics were fighting for Lestrade's life. One was applying CPR to his already battered chest while the other one was putting the patches for de-fibrillation on Lestrade's body.
He had seen scenes like that before, hell he was a doctor he should be used to it but this time it was different. The man lying on the floor was his friend. „Clear" the paramedic shouted before he applied the shock to Lestrade. Both paramedics leaned back and watched the heart monitor. Seconds became hours to John but suddenly the noise of a heart beating could be heard form the monitor. Not steady but beating and that was all John needed right now. After the paramedics where sure that their patient was as stable as the would get him at the moment they lifted him on the stretcher and into the waiting ambulance.
