so I totally lied. I truly am sorry. :(
So um I took this one part off of Another fan fiction called Trepidation to Text. It mentioned Sherlock at gun point, so this is how I figured it would go in my story.
They had found him. Not like they wanted too, but they still found him. He looked in so much pain. Sherlock hanged there, unconscious. His face a mask of pain and face was bloody and bruised and his arms hanged above him, tied with a rope that had him hanging 3 feet above the ground.
John and sawed the rope until Sherlock fell to the ground. He saw Sherlock jump and attack anything around him. When he calmed down John checked him for injuries. Except for the bruising, Sherlock had a fractured lung, a bruised femur and a jagged scar down his arm. Sherlock refused to take off his shirt to let John check for more cuts.
" We need to find who did this to you." John said.
" Already know, it was the goons of the last big drug lord we caught." Sherlock winced as John brought an alcohol swab to his face.
" Know what they looked like?" Dimmock asked.
" No. goodbye!" Sherlock got up, his legs notably shaking. He walked out and motioned for a cabbie. One finally stopped and Sherlock collapsed into the seat. His black shirt hung loosely around his body. He'd only been gone for two days but he looked like he hadn't eaten in weeks. In fact, when was the last time Sherlock ate?
" John, stop. I am fine, never felt better. So stop worrying"
They walked into the flat and Hamish jumped into his father's arms. John noticed Sherlock winced. So, he was hurt more than what he put on. Okay time to check.
" Hey Sherlock you wanna play catch? " John asked.
"No-" Sherlock said at the same time as Hame said " Yes!"
John threw the ball for Sherlock's stomach. It hit him and he moaned and doubled over in pain. John rushed over and peeled Sherlock's shirt off. He noticed the bleeding wound in his stomach. Most likely from a knife. He also noticed the emptiness of Sherlock's stomach.
" Hamish, go to your room." John said.
Hamish obeyed silently. John dragged Sherlock over to the table and sat him down. He'd start with the damn crater in Sherlock's stomach.
" Sherlock eat this" John put a bowl of chicken soup in front of him.
" Why in the world would I do that," Sherlock said.
" Oh I don't know, maybe cause there's a hole the size of china where your stomach should be. Eat your dang food. Igit."
" Use proper grammar, It's not Igit, it's Idiot. " Sherlock said.
" Not according to Supernatural," John mumbled.
"What?"
" Eat your freaking soup!"
" That's not what you said."
" Well it's what I'm saying now!"
" God your annoying, and I'm not eating your death serum that you call soup."
John huffed and walked into his room and grabbed the gun. he brought it over to Sherlock. Sherlock smirked, which only aggravated John more.
" You wouldn't use that on me." Sherlock smile grew wider.
John brought out the other item he had grabbed and watched Sherlock's smile fade. He set Billy down on the counter. then he proceeded to point the gun at Sherlock's scull.
" I'll shoot him." John said.
" You wouldn't dare." Sherlock didn't seem sure of his deduction though.
" try me" John said cocking his gun.
Sherlock took a sip of the soup. than a little more. Until finally finishing the bowl. Realization dawned on his face.
" you didn't," Sherlock asked.
" guilty." John smiled in satisfaction.
He watched as Sherlock's eyes rolled to the back of his head. He immediately got to work. He cleaned the wound on his stomach and applied bandages soon after sowing him back together.
Sherlock would hate him, but only for a few minutes. Then he would learn about his birthday party, then he would hate him. And then when they get to the party and saw one of his guest.
Because who wouldn't want to see their dead lover hmmm?