I don't know how long I was pacing for. It felt like forever. Time was ticking by so slowly. I noticed, while I was pacing, that Mrs. Hudson had arrived at the hospital. I didn't see her, but I heard her speaking to me.
"He'll pull through John. He always does." She told me and then proceeded to repeat every once in a while, in an attempt to calm me down.
I don't understand why it is taking so long. At least, it felt like that. The longer it took, the more helpless and despair I felt. Sherlock was in there fighting. It had always been Sherlock and I fighting the world together, next to each other. Now, Sherlock was alone fighting for something more important than anything he had ever fought for, and I should be there fighting along side him.
Every couple of minutes, a police officer would come and ask for my statement on the incident. Every single time, it was a different officer. I had to have talked to ten different officers. I was angry that I wasn't with Sherlock when he needed me and I was frustrated with having to tell the same story multiple times, to have to relive that terrifying memory repeatedly.
It was no surprise that when I got asked for an eleventh time, I exploded.
"I already told those bloody blokes...!" I shouted, turning around. "Oh, sorry Lestrade." I apologized when I saw my acquaintance from Scotland Yard.
"Jesus, John." I heard him breathe.
"Sorry." I mumbled again.
"John, I need to talk to you."
"There are ten different officers who already have asked me for my statement. You can ask them for it."
"No, John. Just you and me, off the record." He said as he grabbed me by the upper arm.
"I need to be there if they have any news about Sherlock." I argued.
"They'll know where you are. I told them where to find you." He said as he escorted me into an empty room.
Lestrade took a seat. I stayed standing, pacing within the small room.
"Jesus, John, sit down. You're making me nervous." Lestrade insisted.
"I am nervous, Greg. I can't sit down."
"Why don't you tell me what happened, then?" He questioned.
"What is there to tell, Greg? Sherlock is alive, and for all we know, is currently dying!" I shouted, exasperated.
"Just explain to be from the very beginning." He said calmly, almost like I had never shouted at him.
I had spent the next few minutes telling Lestrade what had happened. The only parts that I left out were Sherlock and me kissing and the fact that Sherlock's heart had stopped.
"John, you've know Sherlock for a long time. You know the hell that he has gone through and you know that he's gotten through it. He will pull through."
I stopped moving, the first time in a long time, and slammed my hands down on the table in one fluid motion. Lestrade jumped and looked at me.
"You didn't see his heart stop." I said quietly but fiercely.
It stayed silent for a moment, the silence was very close to becoming suffocating.
"What?" Lestrade asked.
"You didn't have to watch the paramedics perform CPR on him." I said before pacing the room again.
Lestrade stayed silent for a while as I paced.
"John, you know that it will be okay." Lestrade whispered, breaking the silence.
"It's not okay!" I shouted, turning to him. "I've been fighting along side him for years. I have never seen him so weak, and, when he needs someone the most, he's in a room of strangers who are trying to save his life. There should be someone he knows in there with him." I ranted.
"You mean you?" Lestrade asked.
"Of course. I can't stand sitting here while he's fighting for his life."
"You're hardly sitting." Lestrade joked.
"You know what I mean." I snapped back.
"You love him, don't you?"
"What makes you think that? The fact that I can't sit still for a second, or the fact that I'm worried about him. No, wait a minute, it's the fact that you heard that I begged to Sherlock to pull through while the medics were bringing him back to life. That I told him that I couldn't handle it again. What possibly gave you that idea?"
"I'm just asking." Lestrade said, putting his hands up.
I was breathing heavy. I was agitated and tired of people.
"Are you seeing Mycroft Holmes?" I asked, wondering if I was seeing things correctly.
"What? No" Lestrade said defensively.
"Immediate denial with dilated pupils." I thought. "You're lying to me." I addressed him.
"How do you know?" Lestrade challenged.
"You have ink stains on the top of your left hand, which means someone has been touching the top of your hand. I also saw traces of it on the back of your suit jacket. That means someone has been stroking your back. They're in the shape of finger marks and they most definitely don't come from a woman. You also smell of Mycroft's cologne."
"What if I buy the same cologne as he does?" Lestrade asked.
"You don't. I believe it is too expensive, even for your pay grade. Also, your lips..."
"Fine. Yes, I am seeing Mycroft Holmes. What does this have to do with the current situation?"
"Where is he? Mrs. Hudson and I are here because we care about Sherlock. You're here because of you job, but deep down, you care for Sherlock. Does he not even care about his own brother? He keeps telling me that he worries about Sherlock constantly, why is he not here?"
Lestrade shrugged his shoulders before speaking.
"What does Mycroft and I have to do with this?"
"Think about it. You would be me and Mycroft would be Sherlock. The man you love has already been taken from you, he almost died in front of your eyes and now you have no idea what his fate is. I'm trying to get you to sit down and stop being nervous. I'm telling you right now, stop trying to tell me to calm down because you have no idea how it feels. Your lover is still very much alive."
I could feel the anger building up as I spoke.
The door opened and I shouted.
"What do you want?!"
The doctor stood in the doorway.
"I'm...um...I'm looking for John Watson." He stammered.
"Yeah, that's me." I responded.
Lestrade stood up and stormed out of the room before the doctor spoke again.
"I have some news on Mr. Sherlock Holmes."
I went to the door and stuck my head out, bidding Mrs. Hudson to come into the room.
"What is it John?" She inquired.
"This man has some news on Sherlock." I informed her before turning to the doctor. "What's the news?"
I was almost too afraid to ask at that point. One minute, I was bursting to know what was going on with Sherlock and the next, I was terrified to know.
"Mr. Holmes made it through the surgery."
Right then and there, I wanted to collapse on the ground and cry.
"Okay." I replied, almost weakly.
"We've moved him into a room, where he is going to stay for a couple of days. We are going to give him some antibiotics and morphine for the infection and pain. We want to watch him for a couple of days, but we expect him to make a full recovery."
"Oh thank god." I breathed. "Can you take me to see him?"
The doctor was about to answer when Mrs. Hudson spoke.
"You go ahead John."
"You're not coming?"
"No, you two need to sort things out by yourselves. I'll come by later in the day. Give Sherlock my love."
Then she walked out of the hospital.
"Can you take me to see him?" I asked again.
"Follow me."
It took us a couple minutes to get there , for we had to take an elevator and took multiple turns to get there. When we arrived outside the door, I thanked the doctor and walked in. The sight of Sherlock resting there made me want to cry. I sat beside Sherlock and grabbed his hand. Actually, I grabbed his wrist. I had to be sure that Sherlock was alive. I needed to believe it for myself. Understand my fingers, I felt the steady pounding of Sherlock's pulse, just like I could feel his heart beat the first time we kissed. Sherlock was alive. He fought through it.
"Thank God." I whispered to myself.
I sat in the chair for a while, doing nothing more than feeling Sherlock's pulse underneath my fingers. I watched as Sherlock opened his eyes after a few minutes.
"Hi, Sherlock." I said, moving my hand so that I was holding his.
"Hi, John." He responded.
I didn't even notice that my thumb began to softly caressed the back of Sherlock's hand.
"How are you feeling?"
"Better, now that I don't have bullets inside of me."
I laughed a little before responding.
"Yeah, I would think so. That was a little terrifying there for a moment. Mrs. Hudson sends her love, Lestrade sends his regards, and, I would like to think, your brother does too."
"Yes, I know that my brother and Lestrade are dating. It's been going on for about a year." Sherlock said, as if he had read my mind.
"It was interesting to find out." I commented.
It stayed silent between Sherlock and I for some time. We just sat there, enjoying the fact that we were both still on this earth. Sherlock had been rubbing the back of my hand, but I didn't notice until he pulled his hand away. What I did notice was that Sherlock had been taking my pulse.
"John, I'm sorry." Sherlock whispered.
"Sherlock, its..."
"Its not find. Please let me explain things because I know that you have a lot of questions. I know that you know that I pretended to kill myself because Moriarty had threatened everyone. I managed to fake my death by manipulating people. One of those people was you. I didn't want to do that, but it was the only way I could. I had planned for multiple versions of mine and Moriarty's final meeting. I manipulated you by using the gas that was created in project H.O.U.N.D. The phone call was the stimulus as well as seeing me on the roof. The fear came when I fell off the roof. "
"There was a landing about six feet off of the ground. It was covered by a large truck, so no matter where you stood, you couldn't see the ledge. I landed on the landing and rolled off onto the ground. I had blood packets that were meant to explode when I hit the ground. It worked on you and the snipers."
"I didn't enjoy manipulating you, but had I found another way, I would have used it. I understand the pain that I have caused you. I've been watching from the shadows. My heart broke when I saw and heard you come to me after I fell. My heart became dust when I saw that your limp had come back. There were times that I wanted to tell you that I was alive because I saw how badly I hurt you. I know that you almost caught me a few times, but I know that it made you start believing that I was alive. I'm sorry for all of the pain and misery that I have caused you." Sherlock explained.
"Sherlock, that is the past. I am not upset about things that I can't change. True, I'm upset that you didn't trust me enough to tell me that you were alive."
"They would have killed you." Sherlock argued.
"I understand that. I maybe upset, but that doesn't mean that I'm grateful for what you've done. I'm still alive because of you. I'm not angry about anything because it doesn't matter anymore and it never will matter. I don't care what you've done, as long as you did it fro something bigger than yourself."
"Of course I did." Sherlock answered. "I did it because I love you, John."
"Then the past is the past. You shouldn't be sorry about it because I'm not angry about it."
I stood up and leaned forward to kiss Sherlock. We kissed for a few moments before stopping.
"I love you, Sherlock." I whispered to him, my forehead resting on his.
"I love you too, John." He whispered back.
I kissed him back and realized something: This kiss would be one of many that him and I would share as we grow old with each other.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
So, I really hope that you enjoyed this fanfiction. I very much enjoyed writing it. I want to know how I did, so please review this story for me. Thanks to all of my lovely readers who stuck out me losing the notebook and taking forever to update the last couple chapters. I love all of you.