He had been shot in the leg once, just above knee. He crashed to the ground, gripping Mycroft and trying to stay up. John rushed to him.
"Oh god, oh god…" john looked at the wound. The bullet was lodged in his femur, likely never to leave. The bleeding was only getting worse, and there was no way of stopping it.
"It's ok…johns, calm down, you're crying…" Sherlock was breathless and shocked.
"Am I?" john smiled a bit and whipped at his eyes. He was indeed crying. "Well, maybe I wouldn't have to if your family wasn't always in so much bloody trouble."
Sherlock was slipping in and out of consciousness all the way to the medic station. Bart was dead, so Sherlock was of the upmost importance. The family, John, and Anthea waited as the surgery began.
"You really care about my son don't you?" M spoke up, not showing any emotion.
"Yes ma'am, I really do, he..." john broke off. "He means the world to me."
M nodded. "This was never anything I expected, for Sherlock to find someone. Especially a man. But, I can't be too picky can I?" M smiled. "I'm just glad he picked you."
4 and a half hour later, the surgeon emerged from the OR with glad news. Sherlock was fine, awake, and demanding coffee. A good sign. John walked in to see Sherlock, dazed and confused, but much better. A quick talk with the nurse said he could go home at the end of the day.
EPILOAUGE
(Would someone please do a fan art of John and Sherlock as cane buddies and PM it to me? Please?)
John helped Sherlock walk to the taxi cab with his new cane. Sherlock hated the limp and john, with experience in this field, helped him get used to it. Several good days passed before they spoke about MI6 in 221b.
"Um, so you're mum…" john sipped his tea.
"Yes?"
"Was she serious when she said that if I broke your heart that she would send someone to kill me?"
"oh, no of course not."
"good."
"I'm afraid she would do it herself."
"wait, what?"
THE END