Sherrinford was right.
His heart did stop on the way to hospital and it was still refusing to beat.
The trip to the hospital was nerve wrecking for the detective, who was trying to stay calm, but in the inside, his heart was slamming against his chest. Upon arrival, he ran into Lestrade and Molly, but he was so caught up with his brother, he didn't have time to talk. Sherlock was with Sherrinford till they led him in the operating room, where the detective stayed out, forcing him to the waiting room.
He couldn't sit still as he would pace, text Mycroft, Amelia, and John to inform them, but the only one replied was the girlfriend, who was on her way. How could he be so foolish? He saw that his brother had a limp. He saw that he was wounded! But did he care? No. He just ran, expecting him to catch up, leaving his brother to get shot in the back. His heart was still not beating and that meant that the doctor could give up and walk up to him, telling him that his brother was dead.
"Sherlock?"
He turned around to find Molly Hooper, staring up at him with large, brown eyes, dressed in a pale pink robe and pajamas, clearly kidnapped from her home.
"I heard about your brother. I thought you could use the company." She had a small smile on her face as her eyes were starting to get drowsy.
Sherlock looked at her with puzzlement. "It's almost two in the morning and you were a hostage. You don't have to-"
"Yeah, but your brother was shot." She gave a small smile. "I heard about Moriarty's plan, but I didn't think of what you could do." She looked at him with grateful eyes as the smile faded. "Thank you."
He dipped his head. "You're welcome." He noticed two open chairs and offered for her to take a seat, and they both did.
They sat in silence as Sherlock was worried about his brother, knowing that it was going to be his fault. He should've paid attention to his brother's injuries. What was he going tell Mycroft? That Sherrinford is dead because he didn't pay attention for once? Would his brother even care? Surly their parents would. Would anyone care about the middle brother's death beside him? He then noticed Molly rubbing her arms as if she was cold.
The gentleman removed his coat and draped it over his fiend's shoulders, who looked at him with gentle eyes.
"Thank you," she whispered.
He just gave a dip of the head as he hunched over with his elbows on his knees, returning to his thoughts.
She hesitatingly placed a hand on his shoulder. "You look like you blame yourself for this," she quietly said.
"What if I do?" He darkly muttered.
"This isn't your-"
"He had a limp," he cut in as tears were threatening to come. "And I ignored it." He bowed his head. Why weren't they coming in to give them news? Was his brother dead or not? Did they get his heart to start again or was it refusing to beat? Why were the doctors not coming out?
"It's not your fault," she whispered as her voice became drowsy, but trying to remain alert.
Sherlock leaned back in the chair, looking at her with uncertainty. "Are you sure you don't want to go home? You are dressed in your pajamas."
"Then you'll be alone," she whispered as her head fell on his shoulder, quickly falling asleep.
He pulled his coat up over her as a blanket and looked up at the ceiling, replaying himself pressing down on his brother's wound, trying to keep pressure on it. Trying to keep his brother alive. At least he that. At least he didn't sit there like a idiotic child, not knowing what to do. He knew that his brother needed him. He lost his brother for ten years and was not planning on burying him.
Then a familiar woman walked in the door and looked at the detective with worry-filled blue eyes. "How is he?" Amelia quietly asked, placing a hand to her necklace.
"They still have to start his heart," Sherlock heavily answered, looking ahead of himself. Are you going to tell her? Are you going to tell her that you left him to get shot? He shoved the voice out of his mind.
"Sherlock, I am so sorry that this-"
He waved his hand. "No. Don't. I should've seen this coming." But he didn't. He forgot that his brother was injured already, having a limp that slowed him down. He saw the cut over his brother's eye. There was more than likely more of those on his body if he also had a limp. He wasn't just a hostage for a game, he was beaten.
"Girlfriend?" Amelia asked with a smile, gesturing to the sleeping Molly with her head.
Sherlock shook his head. "Freind. Kidnapped by Moriarty for a little game," he bitterly answered, surprised that he actually managed to save both of them, well… Almost. He then remembered Moran's words when he said both of them deserve to die. Did he mean that he was still going to come after Molly? He looked at her with concern, hoping that it was not true. He was not going to lose his brother, John's wife, and friend to the same person.
Amelia quietly gasped in horror at his reply, looking at the woman with sympathy. She looked back at the detective with worry. "Did they managed to get his heart to beat?"
He slowly shook his head, not looking at her.
Tears began to flood her blue eyes as covered her mouth and began to cry, sitting beside the detective.
Not good at comforting, he simply placed a hand on her shoulder as his other arm was being used as a pillow. Instead of worrying about to the two women, he left for his mind palace, going into memories that he hardly ever returned to. Like playing with his two brothers or annoying them or missing them. One of those, if not all of those, made his eyes burn with tears. Especially the one when he was waiting for Sherrinford to come to him when he was getting addicted to drugs and Mycroft was the only brother who tried to help and when he never heard from the middle brother while he was in university. After Sherlock left to do his own life, it was like he accidentally cut his middle brother out of his life.
Then a middle-aged doctor approached him. "Mr. Holmes."
Sherlock, gently shook Molly awake as he stood up and approached him, prepared to be told of his brother's fate as the girlfriend was practically holding her breath. "Yes?"
"Your brother is very lucky," the doctor said, looking him in the eye. "For five minutes his heart did not beat, but now we've finally got it started and the operation is on its way."
It was like a storm had drifted and the detective never felt so lighter as he practically sighed in relief, "Thank you," with a smile as the doctor smiled at him and began to walk away.
Amelia began to cry with joy and Molly smiled with happiness, still tired, but awake.
Sherlock ran his fingers through his hair, knowing that his brother was going to be alright. His brother was going to live.
Molly then noticed his coat, grew immediately embarrassed as she stood up and walked up to him. "I am so sorry." She handed him back his coat. "I didn't mean to-"
He shook his head with a smile, not minding about it at all. "Don't worry about it." He looked at the composing girlfriend and her. "Molly, this is Amelia, my brother's girlfriend." He turned to Amelia. "Amelia, this is Molly Hooper, my friend and pathologist."
The two women shook hands with kind smiles.
"I heard about what happened," the girlfriend began with sympathy as she was drying her eyes. "I really am sorry that they put you through that. Sorry. Little emotional," she added with an embarrassed smile.
Molly smiled as comforted the woman. "No, it's fine. I understand. Also, I'm alright. Sherlock had it organized and I'm safe, but Moriarty's men got away though." She looked at him with a frown, not sure if he heard about that or not.
"They always do," Sherlock grumbled with annoyance, remembering Moran just walking away.
The pathologist looked back at the woman on a higher note. "So you're with Sherrinford?"
She nodded. "We've been together for six months, but we've worked together for awhile." She grinned in relief. "Now he's going to be okay." A couple of tears of joy escaped.
Sherlock didn't look at Molly, knowing that she felt that way about him and she didn't look at him either, but kept smiling with relief at the woman.
One thing was important, though, and that was Sherrinford was going be okay.
Shortly after the good news, Sherlock gave Molly a kiss on the cheek as she was leaving for home, comforted and safe, knowing that the detective had her back. He texted the sleeping Mycroft the news of their brother pulling through and about an hour later, the two of them were able see the wounded man. When they walked in, Sherlock felt his heart heavy, not knowing what his brother would say.
Sherrinford weakly smiled at the two. "My baby brother and my girlfriend… That's a surprise."
"I came to him for help," Amelia explained as she approached his side, taking his hand. Tears escaped as she smiled sadly as she whispered, "I thought I was never going to see you again."
He smirked at her. "I'd never leave you that easily." He turned to his brother with a smile. "So, little brother… Hello."
The three of them chuckled.
"Glad to see you're better," Sherlock smiled at his cheerful brother with a lighter heart, but still felt the guilt.
His older brother shrugged. "Could be worse." Sensing something was off, he turned to his girlfriend with gentleness. "Could you leave us for a moment, love?"
Amelia kissed his head. "Sure." Then she walked out of the room.
Sherlock took a heavy breath, not looking at him. "Sherrinford, I am so sorry that I did that. I forgot that you were already injured and I-" "Sherlock-" "should've planned it better and not have left you to get-"
"William."
He looked at him large, pain-filled eyes as he felt like a chid, begging for forgiveness from his brother for stealing his school books, so he wouldn't have to go to school.
His older brother looked in the eyes with softness. "It wasn't your fault. We were getting shot at- You didn't know what to do. I don't blame you, little brother."
The tears threatened to return. "You could've died. Your heart wasn't even beating for five minutes-"
Sherrinford sighed, bowing his head, then back at him stern gentleness. "You and I could have died many times before. I don't blame you and neither should you. Now stop."
Sherlock nodded, fighting the tears as he heeded his brother's words.