A/N Ok so this chapter is a little shorter but I like where it ended. And since your craving a new chapter Zeopraxis, here it is. Enjoy :) .
Unless you shoot somebody in the room. The words swam through his head, and he realized what he had to do.
Slowly he aimed the gun
"JOHN NO" Sherlock cried as he realised what John was about to do.
"I'm sorry Sherlock, I don't have a choice. I'm not going to shoot you."
He took a deep breath. His eyes met Sherlock's one more time and he could see the pleading in them. He looked away and saw Mary standing there shell shocked and staring at where the gun was aimed.
"I'm sorry" he said. She opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out.
He took another breath, gathered his courage and squeezed the trigger.
He felt the bullet rip through him and his chest flared with pain. He was vaguely aware of the gasps that came from the other side of the room,as he squeezed his eyes shut against the pain. He dropped the gun and clutched at his chest where the bullet had entered. He could already feel the blood soaking into his shirt as he fell forward, the world starting to swim in and out of focus.
"NO" Sherlock cried out, running forward, no longer caring about the line. He caught John just before he hit the ground.
Sherlock could see that John was in bad shape. His eyes were half closed, his face was white as a sheet and his entire chest was covered in blood. Sherlock ripped the scarf off from around his neck and held it to John's chest, remembering what John had told him when they had been trying to save Bainbridge. With one arm still around John, he gently tapped his face.
"Come on John, stay with me, you're going to be alright. There's an ambulance on the way."
John managed a faint smile, knowing Sherlock would have texted Lestrade with his phone still in his pocket.
"See we did have the upper hand." He said quietly and Sherlock was amazed that he still had his sense of humour.
John's eyes started shifting out of focus and Sherlock tapped him again.
"John stay awake. it won't be long now I promise." Sherlock could hear the sirens, still a couple of blocks away.
"I'm sorry Sherlock" John said, even quieter than before.
The concern on Sherlock's face was momentarily replaced with confusion.
"What are you talking about?"
"I don't want to leave you all alone." He replied, looking genuinely concerned for Sherlock, which struck him as odd, given the current circumstances.
"Don't talk like that, You're not going anywhere, I promise. After all, who else am I going to annoy?"
John smiled again, but it didn't last long as his face screwed up in pain again. Sherlock pulled him closer and tried to stop the bleeding as best he could. John's eyes slowly shut and his breathing began getting more and more shallow.
"John, JOHN" Sherlock called out, but got no response. He could feel the tears starting to run down his face, and didn't even bother to try and hide them. He could vaguely hear the sound of sirens, closer now, and a voice over the loud speaker. But for once in his life, Sherlock was aware of nothing else but his best friend, lying half dead in his arms.
He would never admit to it later, but after that he remembered very little. He remembered Mary coming back in, (when had she left?) with the paramedics in tow. He vaguely remembered leaving the building, and not much else until he was in the ambulance with John. He knew Lestrade was heading to the hospital behind the ambulance but could not remember talking to him.
It broke his heart to see John lying on the stretcher, clearly in pain, and knowing that it was his fault. The only reason John got hurt was because of him and his failure to catch one stupid criminal. He took John's hand who was still unconscience. All he could do was sit there, silently urging the ambulance to go faster and willing John to hold on just a little longer. .