A few more gun shots went off... Only one grazed my arm thanks to Sherlock who finally went into action. I can't really remember how it all happened, but the next thing I know is Moriarty is bleeding from his mouth and Sherlock's parents are running out the door calling police.
And I remember even less after that. Just the sight of my wife sliding down the wall, the knife falling to the ground before the weight of her body is taken by her shoulder. She's bleeding heavily as well. Everything is going down, apparently. Me included.
Seconds after my head hits the ground, I saw Sherlock scooting himself to the white noise that was Mary shouting in pain. I don't know whether to feel repulsed by his continuous affection for her, or to be grateful I have him to be so delicate with the things I seem to care about.
The only thing I can really wish for is for it to all be a medicated dream. That as I wake up in a hospital bed, that maybe Sherlock and I were on a case, and the real events were just my imagination. But no. I look to my left and there is my baby girl, swaddled and encased in my sister's arms.
"If you told me she was this pretty, I would have come down sooner!" Her hair is cropped shorter, just an inch longer than mine actually, same colour too. Plus, it's nice to see she's found her smile again.
"Sooner? I thought we weren't talking." I watch her begin bouncing the girl in her arms, making her giggle. I'm not sure it's registered in my head that she isn't my blood, but I hope it never does. "Well, when it turns out you've been in the hospital more than your alcoholic sister, then I think we know who has it worse. Besides, i'm doing better, I've got someone now."
It's been years since I've talked to her, but i'm warmed to know that there's someone there for her who cares if she gets better. "What's her name?" I ask delicately, very afraid to lose this chance with my sister. "Well, his name is JJ, or that's what he goes by. I met him at one of those depressing tell-everyone-what's-wrong-with-you circle meetings." She smiles from the baby to me, and i'm sure she's laughing inside at me.
I turn my head at her, gritting a grin.
"Nothing's wrong with JJ, if that's what you were worried about. Turns out he's just anxious alot, lets it get the better of him."
I shake my head at her, watching another person come in my view. Tall, dark haird. "Sherlock, meet Harry." I smile. "Oh, we've- We've already met. I hope that's fine." Harry gestures her hand to Sherlock, who in return, smiles down. "She's quite lovely."
"You two? Lovely? I truly thought Sherlock would offend you, or vice versa." I sit up in the bed, no IV's connected to my arms. "Oh, he offended me alright. Said I was a hopeless homo-romantic in a going-nowhere straight relationship. So, I asked him how long you two had your run."
"Our run?" I take a glance to Sherlock who's face takes a moment to reliven. "Then we laughed and went to check on you. So... How are you, John?" Always great at subject changing.
Looking over my body, i'm not bruised, and only a scrap from the bullet on my right arm... So, i'm not bad. "Great, I mean... As far as finding out the worst possibly scenarios in life... I'm pretty intact." My thankless eyes look at my baby again. Her hair, it was always darker than I'd dreamed. Her eyes, brown unlike Mary and I's blue. She may be the devil's child, but you could say the devil is still a child of God. So, I love her.
"We'll fix everyting, John. I'll make all this worth something. I've failed you so many times, already- and." He saw me, saw me looking at her. Harry saw me too, setting the child back in the hospital crib. I feel alone.
"William is outside, Irene left this... note. And she's promised to come back to-" He speaks so broken, but I understand every word. It means i'm not alone afterall.
"She just left? Dropped Reed or William, whatever the boy's name is, and left? Then told you she'd bring the newborn that definitely isn't yours, and infact is Moriarty's, to you? You let her?!" And most of the time I get mad because I care. I care if Sherlock gets taken advantage of.
Now, we also share one more trait. We'll both have custody of Moriarty's offspring. Cute.
"I had to. She didn't seem well, and maybe once she gives it to me I can find an appropriate home. But she wasn't well, I repeat this, John. She's messed up, she's turning on herself." I look hard at Sherlock's lips as he speaks, wondering what he really truly thought. Coming through the door was William, Harry holding her arms out for him.
"If she was so... god damn... suicidal, it wasn't too clever letting her leave. You better have a plan." And I was outraged. Out of all the stupidity i've seen spew from his head, this takes the cake. Harry pulls William into her lap, stroking his scraggled long hair. "You'll need a haircut and some clothes." Harry looks between Sherlock and I, "You wouldn't mind if I took him shopping while you talk, would you?"
I roll my eyes, Sherlock shaking his head. "Go ahead, we need to discuss a couple things. Thank you." Harry nods back, standing and pushing William along by his shoulder.
"I'm not in the mood to discuss anything. I want to sleep, and that's it." No, I didn't want to sleep, but maybe saying that would make him leave. I needed to think. My mind was being clouded and not thinking clearly. My wife was shot in the neck and I was somehow not being suffocated by grief.
"That's what we need to discuss, John. Your home is being revoked from possession, you need a place to stay."