~A/N not that you guys REALLY deserve this chapter, here. enjoy it while it lasts. thinking of becoming a FEM!Moffatiss, and going dark for a while. no one really reads this anyway.. none of the A/N anyway.~
One More Night: Sherlock
"John?" I hoped he could hear me. It was my fault that he was here, after all. I couldn't have possibly calculated the rate of Erik's wrath. He had moved faster than any of us ever thought hired muscle could. Upon my sister uttering a description of her captor, he had moved up behind me and was going to shoot, but John pushed the gun away. And at the sound of a shot, he was crumpled on the floor, bleeding from head trauma. Sebastian moved and struck a killing blow to the back of his head, and Erik stumbled and fell. He didn't move again. By the time we had gotten John to St. Bart's, he had lost so much blood, I thought we might have had to arrange a funeral before a wedding.
"Mr. Holmes? You have to leave, visiting hours are over. You can come back tomorrow and sit with him. We'll let you know if there is any change to him." The attending nurse was a busybody who didn't listen to my protests of 'I'm his immediate family' or 'He needs me to be here.' I finally told her to call the attending physician and I'd clear it with her. When she rounded the corner, I had to do a double take.
"Molly? Don't you usually work downstairs? How are you the attending physician for John?"
"Sherlock, when you 'died', he sunk into a deep depression, and because I knew you both the best out of the doctors here, I got assigned to him. Since then, anytime he comes in, I'm the leading doctor who sees him."
"Thank you, Molly. I never meant to be so cruel to you. I just didn't want to let anyone in. You've been a good friend to me and to John. Can you clear me to stay with him? Please, Molly, it'd mean so much to us both."
"You shouldn't have to ask me, Sherlock, or anyone else for that matter. He's your fiancé, and I'll not deny you the opportunity to sit with him while he's not well. This coma, it's not looking very good. It's been a week, Sherlock. His brain will shut down fully soon. If it does, and it puts his life beyond recall, can you bring yourself to pull the plug?"
"Only if you can give me the guarantee that should it come to it, and I cannot, you will."
She nodded and swiftly strode off. It the next week became a tango with Death. Every day, his brain would fluctuate showing some activity, and then return to minimal. It seemed to be a tug-of-war between Death and I. Both of us wanted him, and only one of us needed him. I started to notice things back at our flat, things that got more and more painful the longer he was gone. I started to write letters, not quite 'Dear John' letters, even though that's how they started.
Dear John,
It's now the end of the second week without you home. I'm going crazy, John. Crazier than usual. Annie apologizes profusely each day that you are still in the hospital. Mycroft has had all the charges dropped against her, on the grounds that she was being forced into it. We always knew that it would be Annie who went crazy first, but we never thought it would be because of someone controlling her.
Yours, in love and regret,
Sherlock Holmes
Dear John,
It's the beginning of the third week since you've been hospitalized. I know how you must have felt when I 'died'. I'm sorry you had to endure this pain.
Yours,
Sherlock
Dear John,
They tried to get me to pull the plug, but I told them to 'Piss off'. I'm giving you your best shot at this, but if you don't wake up soon, they're going to make me pull the plug. Please John, come back to us. To me. I need to have you here.
Yours,
Sherlock
Dear John,
I'm writing this beside your hospital bed today. If you don't wake up by tomorrow, they're going to make me pull the plug. And if I cannot do it, if I cannot sign your death warrant, they'll have Molly Hooper do it instead. John Hamish Watson, you have to wake up! Wake up or I swear I'll kill you myself when you do! Please John, please. I'm begging, and you know I don't beg. Just give me one last chance to say goodbye. Just one more night. Help me say goodbye.
Yours for eternity,
Sherlock Holmes
Those were the last words I wrote that night, and I, Sherlock Holmes, cried myself to sleep. I've been told repeatedly that I don't have a heart, but that's not true. My heart beats in another's chest, but that heart is going to die, and then all the allegations of me having no heart will be true. But until the second that he does, my heart is breaking. If he dies, I'll be the same person I was before I met him; cold, ruthless to a fault, and rude. One more night, if only. My thoughts were getting darker, and a lot worse than just in grief. Murderous. But the man who had done this to John was already dead, and I couldn't blame my sister. Annie would never do this intentionally, not if it was just revenge. We had our own ways to exact revenge on those who hurt or betrayed us. It was about 3 in the morning before I slept, and it was fitful.
"Sherlock? Sherlock!" Molly's voice pulled me out of my sleep. She was looking very agitated. "Sherlock, his brainwaves spiked again, and this time they continued climbing! He should be ok!" Her complexion was lit up, and if I didn't prefer John, I could see myself with Dr. Molly Hooper.
"Is he awake yet?"
"Not yet, Sherlock. But he will be soon."
"Can I go in, Molly? I'd like to be there when he wakes up."
"Of course, Sherlock. You don't have to ask. You are his family now."
"Thank you, Molly. It means the world to me." With that we both took off down the hall, laughing all the way. If it had been allowed I think we would have run down the hall to get there faster, but alas, we could not. The boorish nurse who had been in there before was there again, and as Molly and I came barreling through the door, proceeded to shoot nasty looks at us from the bedside. I moved to the other side of his bed, took his hand, and just sat there. I had been given until 11:59 that night to decide if I wanted to pull the plug. I tightened my grip on his hand, and felt something move. I loosened my grip on his hand, and his tightened.
"Molly! He's moving! He's finally waking up!" The sheer joy I felt at just this little movement tripled when her eyes practically glowed with happiness. The chances of someone waking up after three weeks are slim, but here was John, fighting his way back from Death's grip.
"Sh- Sherlock? Molly, where's Sherlock?"I flew from my perch in the corner of the room to his side. He was going to be alright, and we were going to be going home within a week, after his tests were done. Home to 221b Baker Street. Back to the cases that we both loved, full of danger and excitement. It's going to be time for a wedding soon, and thankfully not a funeral. The welcome back was going to be a huge party. Welcoming him back with a BANG!