So... Hi. The urgent matters I had to tend to last night were dumb. But I woke up today and wrote this for yous guys!
Methinks I might just quit my job and write all the time! Who's with me! YEAH!
Kidding, I need money. Enjoy!
"Doctor!" Rose shouted, running to her husband's side as he fell to the ground screaming in agony, holding his shoulder. John switched into doctor mode, pulling off his own jumper and pressing it to the wound, Sherlock tried not to stare as his undershirt lifted slightly.
"Do you have a medical floor?" John asked the blonde girl who was staring, tears streaming down her face, "Rose!" He shouted.
"Huh? Oh, yeah. One floor up."
"Call them, tell them we need a bed and an OR stat."
"Right!" She kissed her husband quickly before heading to a phone on the wall. Sherlock knelt beside Moriarty's lifeless body, feeling for his pulse.
"He's dead." River said, putting her hand on his shoulder.
"One can never be too certain, especially with him. I saw my Moriarty blow his brains out on a roof top. Yet he still came back three years later."
"Interesting as that may be Sherlock, I don't think this one is coming back." Amy said, "River made sure of that." She let out a disapproving huff.
"Oh, mother, don't make me apologize for killing a lunatic." River smirked at her mother.
"This one... Right... This isn't even my Moriarty." Sherlock said, obviously discouraged.
"They're here!" Rose shouted as a man and a woman in white scrubs rolled a stretcher into the room.
"Blimey, what happened?" The woman asked, John looked up from his patient.
"Mary?" He whispered, seeing the alternate version of his late wife standing before him. She had shoulder length brown hair, but it was still definitely the same woman. Rose heard the whisper.
"Sorry, are you Mary Morstan?" Rose asked, taking a deep breath. The doctor began helping the man put his duplicate onto the stretcher.
"Yeah, sorry, do I know you?" She smiled, her bottom lip getting sucked behind her top teeth as she looked at them, her eyes wide as she looked down at John, something flashed across her face resembling pain, but it quickly disappeared.
"Uh..." John looked from her to Sherlock, who averted his gaze when he caught John's eye, "No... Sorry, we uh.. We just-"
"Oh my god." Mary interrupted as her gaze shifted down to Sherlock who was hovering over Jim, "You got the bastard."
"So you are Mary-" Rose was cut off.
"Did he tell you I let him in here?" She interrupted again.
"Yup, said you'd gone rogue." Rose crossed her arms, standing tall, "Almost got my husband killed, you did. I ought to slap you." She shook off the feeling that she sounded like her mother and instead tried to maintain her tough facade.
"No, please... He gave me this picture, of... Well of you, Sherlock." Mary handed the picture to River who was now standing beside her.
"Oh." River breathed, Sherlock stood and studied the picture, it was his alternate self, dead in his favorite armchair, "You look different as a ginger." River said, giving the picture over to him.
"Why did he give you a picture of me, dead? As a threat?" Sherlock looked at Mary, his eyes softening.
"Yeah, he said he'd do that to my daughter if I didn't help him." She responded, her eyes pleading to the room, Sherlock's eyes however snapped directly to John at the mention of her daughter.
"Your..." John sniffed and cleared his throat, "Your daughter." He laughed lightly, straightening up, clenching and unclenching his fists as he looked down. Tears brimming his eyes.
"Yeah..." Mary stammered, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small book, she took out a laminated photo, "She'll be six next month! She's all I have left... Her father you see, he was killed in combat in Afghanistan." She flipped the photo over to show a much younger version of John, he was buffer and seemed happier. He also had black hair, "You remind me a bit of him actually." She smiled sadly and John struggled to blink back the tears threatening to betray him.
"What's her name?" Sherlock asked, placing a hand on John's shoulder to calm him.
"Johanna. Johanna Watson, named her after her dad." She smiled, "He never even got to meet her." She wiped away a tear and stuffed the picture back into the book.
"Well, Mary, we'd better go up with them, yeah?" Rose said, putting her arm around the woman as they turned.
"Yeah, alright." She answered, turning her head back to John, furrowing her brow as he struggled to control himself. They walked toward the door and she turned back again, giving him one last sad smile before disappearing.
"Is he alright?" Mary asked Rose.
"Yeah... He's not from here, if you catch my drift."
"Oh, alien?" Mary whispered.
"Kind of... But in his world his wife died while she was pregnant with their child."
"Oh no, that's devastating." She said, hugging her hands to her chest.
Back in the room, John all but collapsed into Sherlock's arms, tears soaking the detective's shirt.
"It's alright, John." Sherlock said, resting his head on the shorter man's, rubbing his back, awkwardly, "She's not the same Mary." He said softly.
"No... it's not..." He said between sobs, "This version or her... Met me sooner... He looked so happy... But he died."
"It's ok." Sherlock said. Rory, Amy and River watched helplessly on the sidelines.
"Let's give them some privacy." Rory said, taking his wife's, who was still unfortunately in his body, hand. He looked to River, "Come on daughter." They headed out of the room, leaving Sherlock and John sitting together on the floor. The detective did his best to sooth his flatmate, but found himself awkwardly wrapping his arms around the man, unaware if he was going about it the right way. Since he received no objection, he decided it was correct. After a few quiet sobs, the soldier got a hold of himself. He removed his face from the detective's shoulder, and untangled his hands from the fabric of Sherlock's shirt. He cleared his throat and rubbed his face, it was only then that he realized he was pretty much in the detective's lap.
"Sorry..." He said, half smiling.
"I don't mind." Sherlock returned the half smile, looking into John's eyes, "It's what friends do, right?"
"Yeah, course." John said, still in the same place.
"Are you... Going to get up? At any point?" Sherlock asked and John sprang to his feet.
"Oh, yeah... Sorry again."
"No, no, it's fine." Sherlock cleared his throat as John held out his hand to help Sherlock up. Sherlock gladly accepted it and John pulled him off the floor. They're eyes met again and Sherlock felt his pulse increase and was mildly certain his pupils were dilating. John kept his hand in the detective's as they moved closer to one another.
"Sherlock." Said John.
"John." Said Sherlock.
"Sherlock?" Said Mycroft.
Off to work I go! I hope you liked it!
Again I cannot believe the amount of follower's I have. It's super crazy! Thank you!