I didn't feel any different, which caused me to open my eyes. I thought that I had been thrown in hell because I was sitting in Baker Street. Sherlock was propped up on his forearms, on the floor, a gun in hand. Carlyle was dead on the ground, blood flowing from the hole in his head.

"Mate." Sherlock said before dropping the gun and laying back on the ground, landing with a thump. That was when I shot out of my seat and went to knee by him.

"Oh dear God, Sherlock." I scrambled, placing a hand on the abdomen would and reaching for the fun that he had killed Carlyle with. "My service weapon?" I questioned, laying it on the table.

"I thought I might need it." Sherlock said before shouting in pain from my pressing down on his shoulder injury.

"Sorry." I whispered to him as I heard footsteps in the stairwell.

I grabbed my gun and pointed it at the door, thinking it was more of Moriarty's me. I was glad that I had been trained to distinguish between foe and civilian because I would have shot Mrs. Hudson, had I not been. She sheirked in terror when she entered the flat.

"Mrs Hudson, call for an ambulance."

I felt Sherlock grab my arm as I was speaking to her.

"You are going to the hospital, no matter what." I told him fiercely.

"I was going to agree with you." He whispered.

"Sorry, I thought you were going to argue with me." I apologized as I could hear Mrs. Hudson call for help.

"They're all gone, its safe to go to the hospital." Sherlock continued.

"Good." I whispered, reapplying pressure to the shoulder wound. "You couldn't have pulled that sooner?" I asked him, my heart still pumping with adrenaline.

"I had to wait until he was occupied with you. I'm sorry."

"Sorry that I almost died? Well, you should be. It doesn't matter anymore."

It really didn't matter anymore. I was alive and now I needed to keep Sherlock alive. This, of course, wouldn't have been the first time we had placed each other's lives in danger.

Sherlock had closed his eyes and I had to shake him awake.

"Sherlock, I need you to keep your eyes open." I told him in a loud voice before whispering to myself. "Hold on because I can't lose you again. Just hold on."

Whether Sherlock heard that whispered confession, I do not know. He was rather disoriented. At one point, I heard him mutter that we now had the same scar on our shoulder. I could say nothing but to agree with him. He kept closing his eyes, which really began to scare me.

"Sherlock, please stay awake because I love you and can't go through losing you again."

I heard the door open downstairs and feet running up the stairs.

"I love you too, John." Sherlock said, before he closed his eyes.

"Sherlock...Sherlock!" I shouted as I shook him, but he wouldn't respond.

I was about to feel for his pulse when paramedics pushed me out of the way.

"What happened?" One of them asked.

"He's non-responsive. GSW's to his right knee, abdomen, and left shoulder."

After answering, I turned around for a moment, trying to control my racing brain. When I turned back toward Sherlock, my brain had stopped racing and had singled out one thought. "I am going to lose him again."

The scene before me was enough to my heart plummet into my stomach and shrivel in despair. The medics were performing CPR on Sherlock. His heart had stopped beating. All of the adrenalin had left my body and fear took it's place. Had I not been steadying myself on the fireplace mantle, I would have collapsed onto the floor.

"Come on Sherlock!" I shouted. "Keep fighting. Fight to live with me, damn it. Fight for me!" I shouted again until I was silenced by the paramedics.

The paramedics, I knew, are suppose to use a defibrillator ten times before pronouncing some dead at the scene. I counted each use.

6...7...8...

But Sherlock's heart would start. Each time they used it, getting ever so closer to the tenth shock, I got more and more distraught.

"Please, Sherlock, don't leave me along again!" I shouted again as I moved closer to his lifeless body.

9...no heart beat.

I felt helpless standing there, not being able to do anything to save Sherlock. I knelt next to Sherlock's head as the medics got ready to use it again.

"Please, don't leave me again. You know I can't handle it for real." I whispered into his ear before the medic yelled "Clear!"

I backed away from him as they shocked him again. No one moved for a few seconds. This was it, this was the tenth time that they had used the defibrillator.

"Come on Sherlock. Come on, please don't leave me." I whispered, looking at the heart monitor that they had been using, tears coming to my eyes.

This was all of my fault. Sherlock had been shot protecting me. I had thought multiple times attacking Carlyle while he had the gun directed at Sherlock, but I got scared. Fear had literally paralyzed me. I didn't attack when I had a chance and now my cowardice had cost me the life of my best friend and secret lover. I was no better than Jim Moriarty.

A medic breathed in to pronounce Sherlock dead when I saw a spike on the heart monitor. There was another and another. The spikes kept coming, they weren't strong, but they were there. Along with the spikes, there were beeping noises that echoed through the room.

"Pulse is there, but its weak." A medic informed.

When the medic said that, I was stuck in a place between joy and fear. Sherlock was alive, but just barely.

"Thank you, Sherlock." I whispered to him before medics lifted him onto a strecther.

I ran along side the medics as they transported Sherlock downstairs and into the ambulance. I had also jumped into the ambulance with Sherlock. A crowd had gathered on the street surrounding out path. As we made our way into the ambulance, I could hear people talking.

"Isn't that Sherlock Holmes?"

"No, can't be. He killed himself years ago."

"No, I'm pretty sure that's him or I'm the Queen."

As we drove away, I realized that it didn't matter what people thought about Sherlock being alive. They would have found out eventually.

"We're almost there, Sherlock. Hold on." I whispered to him.

When we arrived at St. Bart's Hospital, I hopped out of the ambulance after Sherlock, running along side him into the hospital. They were taking him though a set of doors when I got held back.

"I'm sorry, but you can't go in there." A doctor informed me, turning back to chase after the commotion around Sherlock.

I watched them take Sherlock around the corner as the doors shut. The same wave of helplessness crashed over me once again. Despair washed over me as well because I knew that Sherlock's heart would stop again.

"Please, hold on for me, Sherlock." I whispered before praying to God for Sherlock to pull through.