Sherlock story
Deleted Memories, Chapter 151
Warning: post Reichenbach spoilers. Hope you enjoy
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A/N: Folie à deux means Madness of two
Love and Teddy bears, Zacha
"There is no greater love than to lay down one's life for one's friends." ~ John 15:13
NLT
Lestrade, Donovan, and the agents ran up the stairs with officers behind but they scattered as they cleared the lower levels room by room.
They found Thomas and called for a medic. One agent stayed behind with him.
Three shots rang out from a room to their right; deafening sounds pierced the air. "Oh no," Lestrade whispered heart hammering in this chest.
He went into a full sprint. He vaguely heard footstep following behind him.
"Please God, no," Lestrade whispered a prayer as he entered the room to find on the ground an obviously dead Ayyad, judging from his open vacant eyes and gathering pool of blood under his head. One of his trouser pants leg was raised up slightly to reveal an ankle gun holster. His arm was still outstretched.
An agent started to search the body for the code as instructed by Holmes' note.
"MEDIC !" Lestrade called out as He ran to Sherlock. John was frantically pulling at the ropes. An agent untied John who was shouting at the top of his lungs as he called Sherlock's name and struggled against his restraint. Lestrade looked at Sherlock who lay still on the ground. One arm still outstretch from where he was holding John's gun.
Lestrade looked at Sherlock's head. His face was a little bloodied but that looked more like cuts from a fight. There was no bullet wound. Lestrade did however see two bullet holes in Sherlock's coat. Before he could pull it open, John was on his knees in 'save Sherlock's life,' mode. John ignored his own tears as he frantically tore Sherlock's shirt open sending buttons hurled on the floor.
Lestrade and John both stopped and stared open mouth, in shock.
John, as gently as possible with Lestrade's help took off Sherlock's coat, jacket, and shirt. He then pulled the Velcro strips at the sides and eased the ultra thin vest over Sherlock's head. He then re-dressed Sherlock in his now button-less shirt and suit jacket.
He fully buttoned his dress jacket to maintain Sherlock's dignity. Both John and Lestrade winced as they noticed his discolored and bruised torso. They wondered how much was from the impact of the bullets, and how much was Sherlock hiding from his earlier run-in with Ayyad's men.
Both men stared at his bulletproof vest as Sherlock moaned and started to come around. "Bloody, he wore it." John said smiling and astounded his tears instantly forgotten.
Lestrade smiled widely as he stared at Sherlock thinking that the man must have nine lives. Sherlock moaned as he blinked back the pain. He attempted to bring his hand up to his head to rub where a good size knot was forming on the back of his head. The action earned a grimace that turned into more groaning.
"Sherlock, you're alive." John said as they helped him to sit up.
Lestrade assisted John to steady Sherlock who was leaning toward one side while seated on the ground. His hands came up to his chest reflectively, and he winced as he touched it. Sherlock was so off balanced that he almost fell over.
Sherlock eyes rolled slightly as if he could not make up his mind if he wanted to become fully alert or pass out. He made movements as if he would like to get up, but couldn't quite seem to coordinate his movements. He shook his head to clear his mind this caused another wince. In the back of his mind, he fought against the disorientation.
Sherlock jerked as a sudden sharp pain radiated from his chest. A groan loud tore itself from Sherlock's lips.
"That's it! Maybe we should lay ourselves back down, Sherlock." John did not wait for a response but helped Sherlock lay gently back down, flat on his back. John cushioned Sherlock's head with Lestrade's coat. They used Sherlock's coat to cover him.
After a few minutes, Sherlock's groans died down and he blinked a few times and seemed more oriented. He also seemed to notice John for a first time.
"Ok?" Sherlock whispered concerned while looking John over then closing his eyes grimacing as a sudden flash of pain registered on his face.
"Oh… yea, I'm ok. It seems that I have a personal human shield." John visually examined Sherlock and raised his eyebrows, "Even though that's more than I can say for you." John looked at Sherlock's face now.
"Code?" Sherlock asked with his eyes still closed.
John looked at Lestrade.
"Oh, they found it, Sherlock." Lestrade answered for him.
"Thomas?"
John turned to Lestrade again to answer that question. Sherlock attempted to open one eye then the other, and looked at Lestrade.
"He lost some blood but he should be ok, he's a fighter. He almost took out one of the emergency workers. He thought that they were Ayyad's men." Lestrade could not help to smile at the thought.
Sherlock smirked at the last comment about Thomas until he suddenly grimaced again. He seemed to rapidly deflate as the last of his questions were answered. He closed his eyes and was still for a few minutes.
Sherlock ventured to open his eyes again pouting.
"Sherlock…," John said pointedly looking at the bulletproof vest in disbelief, "… you wore it."
"Obviously John." John did not mind the sarcasm; he was too happy they were both alive.
"What was the point in wearing that thing if I am still injured?" Even with a weak voice, Sherlock somehow managed to sound both annoyed and superior.
"Lack… of… death," John replied slowly, truly smiling now.
Lestrade, convinced Sherlock was okay, returned to securing the scene and retrieving the codes.
"I'm sorry Sherlock but I think another ambulance ride to the hospital is in order." John said as he prepared for a fight.
"There is not one reason for …," Sherlock began but was interrupted. He was still able to convey his full outraged with the few words, while barely maintaining a little more than a whisper.
"I'll give you three reasons. First, you were unconscious for a few minutes that would be your second concussion in less than a month and third, no fourth time unconscious. Second, even with the vest, that was a major impact to your chest and you've just healed from broken ribs and minor abdominal surgery, you have quite possibly cracked or fracture a rib again. Third, I'm not sure what happened since the last time I saw you but you're one big bruise."
Sherlock tried to speak but John did not allow the interruption.
"John... "
"I'm not finished Sherlock. At the very least, you'll have a nasty headache and some bruises from the bullet's impact on the vest. Even if we think the best, your ribs are at the very least bruised. I'm not taking a chance with you, better safe than sorry." John's expression and crossed arms told Sherlock that there was no bulling his way out an ambulance ride this time.
Sherlock eye narrowed dangerously and he said whispered between gritted teeth, "The next time someone wants to shoot you, Doctor Watson, I think I'll let them. Maybe, I even give them a gun, and… why do you have that ridiculous smile on your face?" He managed to raise his voice a little.
"Still happy you're alive, Sherlock," John said not hiding his face-splitting grin.
A long-suffering sigh escaped from Sherlock as he held one hand to his head and another hand to his chest, resigned to his fate.
"That was a surprisingly good shot by the way," John said
"I'm a good shot John; you're just so freakishly accurate, it makes the rest of us look incompetent." Sherlock sounded offended.
"Um, thanks… I think." John wondered if it was a compliment or complaint.
A dramatic sigh escaped from Sherlock's lips, this caused another wince.
"Look at the bright side, Sherlock," John ventured.
"That would be," Sherlock said sulkily.
"You've still got me," John pointed out.
"I thought you said the bright… side…, John," Sherlock said evenly.
John frowned with a hurt expression.
Sherlock bit his lip, then smiled, then chuckled lightly despite the pain as John joined in.
Everyone turned briefly to stare, then quickly returned to work. Donovan thought Sherlock had finally loss his senses and taken John with him. Lestrade understood that they somehow seemed to find places of comfort in the middle of the greatest of tragedies.
It was their way.
Lestrade smiled, knowing how lucky they were to find one another. Lestrade picked up this phone to make a call, but it rang. He answered, "Yes , Mycroft, he alright,… (Pause)… yes I have the codes…" Lestrade listened and the smile left his face. He looked at Sherlock and turned his back.
Sherlock eyes happen to glance at Lestrade. He noticed his expression and the sudden turn of his back. He looked at John who suddenly stopped smiling as he noticed Sherlock's sudden change in mood. He followed Sherlock's eyes.
Sherlock suddenly stopped smiling, he frowned and looked around, "Where's Mycroft?"