Oh God, oh God, oh God. His hands were shaking. How could this happen. How? He looked down at his hands. They were covered in thick red blood. The blood already started to dry but there was so much. So much blood. Too much. His pants, his shirt, his hands. Everything.
Oh God. Why? Why? It was just a dream. Just a dream. A nightmare. He would wake up every minute. It wasn't real. Just a dream. But he didn't wake up.
Please stop. Stop this! God was he crying? He was. Hot salty tears rolled down his cheeks. The tear drops collected themselves under his chin and then dropped. Dropped onto his hands. His bloody hands. The blood! He needed to wash it off. It had to go. He jumped up and ran to the bathroom. He washed them over and over with soap and hot water. He washed them so long till the blood was gone and his hands were red from the hot water. But he didn't feel better.
Breath! He ordered himself. In and out. In and out. Footsteps got louder. Someone was coming. The bathroom door opened. An old man with grey hair walked inside.
"Doctor Watson?" And he knew it before the man spoke. He could hear it in his voice. See it in his walking pace. How the doctor didn't dare look him into the eyes. All his hope shattered in that moment.
1 Hour earlier
Two weeks passed, since there had been a dead woman in 221b Baker Street. Sherlock had been working and doing weird stuff since that day. "John I have to know what Moriarty is planning." Sherlock had always used the same excuse. It got onto Johns nerves. He came by every afternoon to see what Sherlock had been up to. Often the detective wouldn't be there or only muttered some words because he was in his mind palace and other times he was pacing and throwing things at the wall because he didn't make progress. After 10 days John decided to take Sherlock to the Yard and to force him to take a case. Sherlock had been refusing to take cases since Moriarty and it drove John crazy. That man couldn't sit still and the worst thing was, that Sherlock's ego slowly got crushed because he didn't get anywhere with Project finding Moriarty.
So here he was walking to Scotland Yard. Sherlock had just called him and said that he had found something. John was glad that Sherlock had called him to inform him about the case and didn't leave him in the dark like he sometimes does. It was quite an interesting case, actually. Three women have been murdered on public street in front of hundred witnesses. All of them had an open sliced throat. But although the murder was committed in public no one saw anybody nor was there any evidence. Sherlock first refused to take the case (Because of Moriarty), but after John had threatend that he would take away all of Sherlock's science equipment and make sure that Molly wouldn't let Sherlock into Barts he took the case. And Sherlock had fun. He was a bit calmer now and you could actually talk to him without getting hit by something. He still refused to eat and sleep but John was working on it. John was walking into New Scotland Yard up to the third floor where Lestrade had his office. As soon as he walked through the glass door a voice, John would recognize everywhere, shouted through the offices.
"John!" He saw the detective immediately. His black curls and long thin body were unmistakable. "Finally! You don't know how painful it is with all these dull human beings."
Lestrade walked up to them with relief on his face. He nodded to John "I am so thankful that you are here. This man-" Lestrade waved to Sherlock, who grunted as he was mentioned. "- is driving us all crazy."
"Well you obviously had fun" John ironically said. He could see the 'fun'. Every officer in Scotland Yard watched them the most with an annoyed face, some with shock probably because Sherlock made some kind of deduction about their life. "Okay so who is the murder, Sherlock?" John asked. He braced himself for a long and fast deduction from which he would only understand a third of it.
"It's a man called David Burch. He has been arrested a few times for possessing drugs." Sherlock gave John a few sheets of paper. In the first one there was a photo of a young blond man. He looked friendly but there was something in his eyes that made you shudder. Lestrade looked over Johns shoulder to analyze the man.
"He isn't one of our suspects. What makes you think he is the murder?" Lestrade asked looking up to Sherlock. Sherlock shook his head in annoyance. "First I don't think, I know that he is the murder. Second I am not responsible for your incompetence to get the right suspects."
"So how did you figure it out?" John asked quickly.
"That was a bit harder. All three women are on Facebook and Skype. I... sorta hmm required their password. I read through their chats and looked up their friends. David Burch was their ex boyfriend. All three women ended the relationship on Facebook per text message. He got angry and told them that he will kill them. Mostly it's just a bluff but this time he meant it."
"But we looked at all the recent woman's ex boyfriends. He isn't one of them." Lestrade put in and looked at Sherlock with a questioning gaze. "Yeah well they were together around 8 years ago. And it was a secret. David Burch didn't want anyone to know. The only way to find out was over Facebook."
John wondered how exactly Sherlock managed to get the passwords but he stayed quite. Sherlock wouldn't tell them. "So how did he kill them? Not public I guess."
"Right John not public. Only 20 meters (65 feet) from the death scene there is a very small alley were the killer hid. He grabbed his victims, slit open their throat and shoved them out again. It went pretty fast, but they were still able to walk a bit. They probably wanted to get help but couldn't speak. As we all know, people are a bit slow with progressing information or seeing things that are important." Sherlock spoke the last sentence very slow, Lestrade rolled his eyes and John pierced Sherlock with a sharp gaze. But he ignored it.
"They didn't notice the women struggling till they fell and died." Sherlock finished and looked at Lestrade.
"Right, okay." Lestrade murmured "So where do we find him?"
"What makes you think I know where he is?" Sherlock asked
"Because you called and said it was important and usually when you do that you know what the suspect is doing next or where to find him."
"Very good Inspector. You are getting a bit smarter."
"I'll take it as a compliment."
Sherlock took out some papers and photos. They showed David Burch and a cute ginger girl with freckles.
"Is this his next victim?" John asked. Sherlock nodded. John could read a name. Nina Meyer. She was born in Cornwall in a small town called St. Ives, but her mother is from the Netherlands. Nina is 32 years old, mother of two kids and married.
Sherlock tapped his finger on the picture and spoke. "Mrs. Meyer went to London for one year when she was a student. She met David Burch and began a relationship. This one wasn't a secret one, probably because he loved her very much. Now the same thing happens. They broke up. She ended the relationship. I found out that Mister Burch bought a ticket to a Village called in Cornwall because he plans to kill her. The train leaves today at 7.25 p.m. from Victoria Station. Perfect opportunity to catch the suspect." Sherlock ended his speech, clapped his hands and smiled a bit.
Lestrade looked at the photo and then up to Sherlock. "Okay let's write down what we know. David Burch had a secret relationship with all three victims. They broke up and he wrote that he would kill them. He did. In a small alley he grabbed the women, slit open their throat and then let them to die on the street. Now he is after Nina Meyer, who lives in Cornwall. They had a relationship while she was in London for a year. Today he is taking the train from Victoria Station to . He wants to kill Nina Meyers. We are supposed to catch him before he boards the train." Lestrade looks up to Sherlock so that he confirms what Lestrade just said. Sherlock nods.
"Well it sounds all logical but it's only a theory. We don't have evidence." Lestrade then says.
"I knew that you would think that. Of course I've got evidence." Sherlock took out more photos and a little plastic bag. Sherlock pointed on the pictures. One showed a footprint on earth next to it was a tiny speck of blood. The second picture was taken in a flat. Two boots stood against a white wall. The boots were a bit muddy. The third picture was from a CCTV. David Burch was on it. He was walking right past victim 1. The forth and last picture was a knife. It was shiny and looked new, but there was dried blood at the end of it.
"You broke into a flat?" John gasped and looked at Sherlock. He was angry and shocked. And jealous. He used to do all this with Sherlock. Why didn't Sherlock take him with anymore? Was it because he was married and a soon to be father?
"It was for a case." Sherlock defended himself. "As you can see the footprints in picture one match the boots I found in the flat. The knife leaves the same cut like the one in the victim's throat. And he was at the crime scene next to the victim only 5 minutes before her death. And I found his hair on Lisa Hortling, victim three." He pushed the plastic bag to John and Lestrade and smiled. Lestrade nodded and then also smiled.
"This is enough. We got him! So should we go catch him? It's already 6.45 p.m." Sherlock and John nodded. Lestrade made some calls and then grabbed his coat and walked out of the office. Sherlock followed and so did John. He could feel the adrenalin and energy when he thought about catching a criminal.
Sherlock and John walked next to each other out of Scotland Yard, though Sherlock was a bit faster and always some inches in front of John. Suddenly Sherlock spun around, faced John and grabbed John's wrist. "John." Sherlock said and looked at him. John was about to make some kind of joke when he saw the seriousness on Sherlock's face.
"Yes?"
"Can you promise me something?"
"Depends."
Sherlock sighed and let go off John's wrist to get out a folded piece of paper. He gave it to John. There was a location and a time given.
Diana Memorial Playground Hyde Park, 22:45
"John whatever happens today you have to go to this meeting tonight. It's important. It could affect a lot of human lives"
"Sherlock...?"
"No John. Promise me. I don't care if the world is falling apart, if there is a new episode of Doctor Who or something like that. You. Have. To. Go. There." Sherlock was practically begging John. John didn't know what to say. He had a lot of questions and he was about to demand more information before he said yes when he looked at Sherlock. The man was begging him for something not demanding and his voice had this sad and desperate tune, so John nodded his head. "I promise."
"Thank you John. You won't regret it." And with that Sherlock walked over to Lestrade ready to chase down a criminal. John stood there for some seconds holding the piece of paper till Sergeant Donovan ran into him. "Sorry Sally." He murmured an apology. Before she could reply he ran to the car Lestrade and Sherlock stepped into and took a seat in the back of the car.
The car ride was quite but comfortable. It took them about 10 minute. It would have been less if there hadn't been so much traffic. As soon as they were there Sherlock jumped out of the car. Victoria Station was quite old but still a beautiful building. Lestrade and John walked after Sherlock who already vanished into the station. They met Sherlock inside again.
"Track 16." He said and John nodded. They stood next to a Starbucks café. Sherlock walked away again. Trying to get to platform 16. There were a lot of people in the station and John hoped that no one will get hurt. John looked around and saw other men and woman moving towards Track 16. Police officers. Suddenly Sherlock stopped in front of them and turned to Lestrade.
"There he is. Detective Inspector. Your moment, go on, arrest him." Lestrade nodded and made silent communication with his fellow officers. John looked at David Burch who stood in front a restaurant called Wasabi. Lestrade and some other officers walked towards the man. David Burch though was high alert and noticed the police officers. He tried to run away but there were a lot of people blocking his path and in an eye-blink Lestrade stood in front of Burch. Lestrade grabbed Burch's arm.
"Mister David Burch you are arrested for mu-" Lestrade was cut off. There was a short cry of agony and surprise. John couldn't see what happened but suddenly there was blood on the Inspectors right arm. The suspect pushed the startled detective away and started to run.
"Shit!" John said and ran to his wounded friend. Greg stood there holding his arm. It didn't look life threading.
"That bloody bastard just stabbed me!" Lestrade's voice was full of anger and fury. John almost laughed at the scene. He took Greg's arm and inspected it. The cut wasn't deep and no important vein was harmed. He would survive it. Maybe a scar.
"Does it hurt?" John asked gently.
"You bloody bet!"
"Okay, okay! I call an ambulance. It's not life threading." Lestrade relaxed a bit and smiled. His smile faded fast though and he looked around. "Where is David Burch?" John turned back to the station and searched for the man. The civilians were running from the scene and John could see a bit more than before. He located David Burch on the other side next to a shop called Wetherspoons. Sherlock was running after the man as were three police officers. Everything seemed normal. They always ran after criminals and John was about to turn back to Greg when he saw it. David Burch took out a gun, turned around and fired. It went so fast John couldn't react. The next thing he saw was Sherlock crumbling to the floor.
It all went pretty fast. He, as always, was running behind the criminal trying to catch the man that killed three women AND stabbed one of his friends. Sherlock was actually very upset. It gave him more energy and he ran faster than the three police officers behind him. The civilians were running from the crime scene and Sherlock was glad about it. He wouldn't bump into one and he could run faster.
But then something happened that he didn't see coming. David Burch grabbed to his left and pulled out a black gun. He spun around and fired without hesitating. Sherlock wasn't able to dodge or do anything else. And then he felt the pain. Just for a second. It shot like fire through his veins and nerves. And then he fell. He couldn't do anything about it. It was like his whole body just shut down the second the bullet hit his body. Sherlock didn't even know where he got hit.
For some odd reason the last thing he thought was that John would be really upset. A bit not good.
David Burch took out a gun turned around and fired. It went so fast John couldn't react. The next thing he saw was Sherlock crumbling to the floor.
John reacted fast. He left Lestrade standing and ran to Sherlock's side. He didn't leave the detective out of his eyes. When John reached Sherlock's side, there were already people surrounding him. One was calling an ambulance.
"Sherlock!" John called and kneeled beside his friend. God there was so much blood. Sherlock was lying on his stomach; his faces turned to the other side then were John was sitting. And there was blood. All around his friends torso. Soaking Sherlock's black coat and white t-shirt. John checked Sherlock's pulse. There was none. God! There was no pulse. It was silent. Not even a weak one.
"No!" John whispered more to himself. Not again! Not again! He felt tears rising into his eyes. The first time this happened Sherlock had jumped from that bloody roof. There was no pulse and he thought his friend had died. When he looked back to that day he could see all the clues and hints that should have told him that Sherlock was still alive. The second time John had feared Sherlock's life was when Mary had shot him. There had been a lot of blood too. But Sherlock had a pulse and he had been breathing. This was different. No one was pushing him away. No one tried to take Sherlock away from John. There was no pulse and his friend looked so dead. He knew that he should leave Sherlock like he was, but he needed to see the wound. He needed to know what he could do or what he couldn't do. He turned Sherlock over and regretted everything. His snow-white Shirt was all red now. There was a hole. Right were the heart was. A tiny little hole. A hole that ripped away Sherlock's life. John put his hands over the wound trying desperately to stop the bleeding. But it wouldn't stop. The warm blood was oozing out of the wound through Johns fingers. This couldn't be happening. He needed to safe Sherlock. Safe him! A desperate voice in him screamed. But he knew that there was nothing he could do. There was a bullet wound in his friend's heart. He lost a lot of blood and stopped breathing and so did his heart.
"No Sherlock! Don't do this to me! Wake up!" John screamed and took the detective in both of his arms. John's crème colored jumper got soaked red from Sherlock's blood. He pressed the detectives head against himself. It was like John forced some of his energy into Sherlock. John whimpered. Sherlock couldn't leave him again. Not ever. John ignored the people that were surrounding them. The silent whispers. No one tried to pull him away. No one dared to interfere.
"Sherlock… please…" John whispered into the detectives ears. John tried to ignore the fact that Sherlock had stopped breathing minutes ago. That there was a bullet hole in his friend's heart. That his heart had stopped beating. And that the amount of blood that got lost was too much. Everything was just a blur. He hardly noticed the paramedics taking Sherlock away. He hardly noticed how he drove in the ambulance to the hospital. He hardly noticed anything. It was just a blur. Just a dream.
His brain started to work again when he sat in the waiting room. It was now 7.15 p.m. Not an hour ago his friend had still talked to him. Healthy. Whole. Not with a bullet hole and blood everywhere. The doctor in John suddenly came up and he pieced one and two together, seeing reality. He was still hoping. Hoping that his friend would survive. But the doctor in John told him that that would not happen. Not even the best doctors in the world could safe someone from a ripped through heart. He would lose Sherlock.
Oh God, oh God, oh God. His hands were shaking. How could this happen. How? He looked down at his hands. They were covered in thick red blood. The blood already started to dry but there was so much. So much blood. Too much. His pants, his shirt, his hands. Everything.
Oh God. Why? Why? It was just a dream. Just a dream. A nightmare. He would wake up every minute now. It wasn't real. Just a dream. But he didn't wake up.
Please stop. Stop this! God was he crying? He was. Hot salty tears rolled down his cheeks. The tear drops collected themselves under his chin and then dropped. Dropped onto his hands. His bloody hands. The blood! He needed to wash it off. It had to go. He jumped up and ran to the bathroom. He washed them over and over with soap and hot water. He washed them so long till the blood was gone and his hands were red from the hot water. But he didn't feel better.
Breath! He ordered himself. In and out. In and out. Footsteps got louder. Someone was coming. The bathroom door opened. An old man with grey hair walked inside.
"Doctor Watson?" And he knew it before the man spoke. He could hear it in his voice. See it in his walking pace. How the doctor didn't dare look him into the eyes. All his hope shattered in that moment.
"Yes?" John's voice was not more than a whisper. So hopeless.
The doctor took a deep breath and then looked right into Johns eyes. "I'm so sorry. We did everything we could, but…" The doctor didn't need to say more. John knew. Oh god he knew.
"I understand." Was the only thing John said and he walked out of the bathroom. He didn't care about the blood on his clothes. He didn't care what else the doctor might say. He just didn't care.
This was painful! Mycroft was sitting in a meeting with the American, Russian, French and Chinese representative. They all were arguing about something that wasn't important and it got on Mycroft's nerves. He still had work to do. But no! Here he was sitting with some stupid people that felt so special and wanted to show how much power they had. It was tedious. If he wasn't part of the discussion it could be funny to watch. But unluckily he was part of the discussion and that already for 2 hours. It felt more like 2 years. Then unexpectedly the door to Mycroft's right opened and Athena his PA came in.
Not good. This was a very important meeting. No one was supposed to disturb them if it wasn't very, very, very important. So something bad must have happened.
"Sir?" Athena asked and he only nodded. He excused himself from the debate. He knew he wouldn't miss anything of importance and actually he was quite glad to be out of the room.
"What is it?" He asked when the door behind them shut and no one was able to hear them. Athena searched for something on her phone. She had a sad face and he instantly knew what was going on.
"Oh for god's sake! What did he do know?" Athena didn't answer him and only gave him her phone. Mycroft looked down and saw that it was CCTV footage from Victoria station. He pressed play.
He could see Sherlock walking in front of John and Detective Inspector Lestrade. He could also indentify some other police officers among the crowd. Suddenly his brother spun around and faced the Inspector. He said something, but Mycroft couldn't hear it. The Inspector made some hand gestures to his fellow police officers and walked to a man who stood in front of a restaurant. The man noticed what was happening and tried to run away but his path was blocked by other people and Inspector Lestrade grabbed the man's arm. With fast movement the arrested man took out a knife and stabbed Lestrade in the arm. The Inspector was shocked and the suspect ran away. Now everything went very fast. John ran to the wounded Inspector and Sherlock ran after the criminal. John was inspecting Lestrade's arm carefully but didn't look worried. Not life threading then. Mycroft focused his attention back to his younger brother who was running to the opposite side of Victoria Station chasing down the criminal. He was a bit faster than the three officers behind him. Then the criminal took out a gun and fired, fired at his younger brother. His brother crumbled to the floor and he could see John running to Sherlock. The doctor turned Sherlock on his back and Mycroft noticed with shock that his brother got hit in the heart. Sherlock's white shirt was soaked red and John desperately tried to stop Sherlock's blood from flowing. Then the doctor gave up and grabbed Sherlock and pressed him against himself. It was heartbreaking to watch. Then he could see Lestrade sitting down next to John talking to him, but it seemed like John didn't listen. Then paramedics rushed to the scene and took Sherlock away from Johns grip. The doctor was in some kind of trance and Lestrade helped him up and walked with him to the ambulance. Then they got inside and drove away. Some people cleaned up the lake of blood and only minutes later it looked like nothing ever happened.
"Where is he?" Mycroft only asked hoping that his brother wasn't lost. That there was still a chance he survived, even if all the odds were against them.
"There is a car waiting outside Sir." Athena replied. Mycroft nodded and walked fast, okay he was actually running, to the exit and sprang into the black car.
Please don't let him be dead.
John walked up the steps to his flat. He felt so heavy. So lifeless. He got out his keys and opened the door. Mary was sitting on the couch watching something on TV.
"John you're back. Did you catch the murder?" Mary got up and looked at John. She widened her eyes when she saw all the blood. "Oh my god! Are you hurt? John you have to go to hospital." John remand silent. He was still figuring out Mary's first words. He didn't know if they arrested the murder. Sherlock's murder. He hoped they did.
"John?" Mary asked quietly and took a step towards him.
"It's not my blood." He answered without any emotions.
Then it hit Mary and she widened her eyes even more. "Is it… is it Sher-"
"Yes." He interrupted her before she could say his name. "That stupid idiot got himself shot." Mary took a step forward and put a hand on his shoulder.
"But he is okay, right? He is in hospital?" Mary asked her voice indicating that she was scared of the answer. John looked her straight into the eyes.
"No Mary. He is dead."
A.N/ Oh nooooo. What an ending. I hoped you liked this chapter. Please leave a review! I will update soon.
