John stood gasping as he watched his friend fall to the floor. He couldn't watch this, not again. His best friend had died once and that was already too much for him to bare. He stood frozen unable to grasp anything that was happening. It was almost as if Sherlock was falling in slow motion, his eyes open in surprise. John followed his eyes to where the bullet had come from, the whole scene freezing before him. Saying he was surprised by the person who stood on the other end of the gun would be an understatement. The relief and surprise that rushed in was overwhelming and he continued to stand frozen, tears slowly stopping. Suddenly everything was back in motion, John ran to Sherlock, pushing Magnussen's now very dead and bloody body out of the way. Once again Mycroft's voice boomed out,

"Mary, put your hands in the air where I can see them."

Mary did as she was told, dropping the gun that John now realized was his own. She must have somehow grabbed it from Sherlock. As Mycroft landed and took Mary into custody and called the police and paramedics (Sherlock was still very much unconscious), John couldn't help but think how ironic the whole situation was. Mary had shot Sherlock to save herself and she now shot Magnussen to save Sherlock. As they escorted Mary to the police car John ran over, asking to speak with her for a second. The officer nodded and John thanked him.

"What you did back there… That was erm… Really nice of you. Putting yourself in danger and saving Sherlock's life."

A smile crept across Mary's face,

"Yeah well he had too much information and he didn't deserve to live."

John raised his eyebrows,

"But you also saved Sherlock"

Mary's face fell a bit and then a half smile formed across her lips,

"Yeah well as much as I've done to hurt you emotionally, the love I had for you was real. I know how much you care about him and I know Sherlock will go to the ends of the earth to keep you safe. It was the least I could to for both you and Sherlock. You guys both deserve each other more than I ever deserved you."

John just nodded and placed a hand on Mary's shoulder,

"Thanks"

She nodded in response and the police man stepped forward, helping her into the car. John watched the car drive away until Mary was completely out of sight. Turning back towards Magnussen's house John walked over to where Sherlock was laying, paramedics now flocking him. Mycroft noticed John and excused himself from where he was talking with police men and paramedics.

"What's going to happen now?" John asked, feeling completely lost.

"Well I'm sure once they finish up here they'll take Sherlock to the hospital, monitor his conditions until he's well enough to go home, and then the two of you will live happily ever after. Or at least that's what I would think, you two being an item now and everything."

John smiled at Mycroft's answer before turning serious,

"What about Mary?"

"MI6 – they can place her into Eastern Europe. An undercover assignment for about 6 months."

"And after that?"

"I'm afraid it would most likely prove fatal."

"Oh."

"Well I better be going, running the government and all. Cheers John, take care of Sherlock."

"Will do."

"Oh and one more thing John…"

"Yes?"

"Merry Christmas."

John didn't respond, he just nodded and watched as Sherlock's older brother strolled away, umbrella swinging in hand.

John rode to the hospital with Sherlock. Apparently he had regained consciousness but had tried to get up to fast, resulting in loss of consciousness again. John so badly wanted to talk to the detective, tell him everything he missed, tell him how scared he had been, how he thought that he had lost Sherlock again. But most of all John just wanted to tell Sherlock how much he loved him. He wanted to hug the detective, caress his perfect face and kiss him. This would all have to wait however, at least until he was fully awake again. The ambulance ride felt somewhat long and there was a thick layer of silence, so thick nobody dare break it. John took this time to watch Sherlock, taking in every little detail. The way his chest rose and lowered as he breathed, his perfectly bouncy and soft curls, his soft snow white skin, and his sharp cheek bones. No matter how strange this man seemed to others, to John he was perfect, to John he was beautiful. This was the man John Watson loved.