Chapter 2!!!! Where we left off:
"Oh, God," John jumps up from his chair and rushes to put on his coat. He hurtles down the stairs.
Mrs. Hudson calls out as he passes her door, "John? Where are you going? It's late!"
John stops and looks at her. "I'm going to save Sherlock Holmes." He continues out the door and waves down a taxi. He jumps in and anxiously taps his leg as he gives the address of the hospital.
John stares out at the dark London night as the taxi drives to the hospital. How could he not see it? Sherlock had warned him about the kind of man Culverton Smith was, had literally shown him his "favorite" room, and John had just let him stay there. And the fact that Sherlock had gone willingly even after John told him he was not to blame for Mary's death... well, that had its own implications, ones that John could not think about right now.
John dials Lestrade and waits for him to answer.
"Hello? John? What's up?"
"Greg, I think Sherlock's in trouble. I'm headed to the hospital now. Can you send backup? I may need it."
"What do you mean? He had a guard at the door; no one's getting in."
"Just trust me. I got a message."
"What message? From who?"
"Mary."
"John, you're not making any sense."
"JUST TRUST ME GREG! GET ME BACKUP!"
John clicks off the phone as panic begins to rise.
The taxi comes to a halt, and he quickly pays the driver before jumping out. He sprints towards the front doors of the hospital and heads straight for Sherlock's room. The guard is struggling to open the door, which seems to have locked itself from the inside. This was not good. Not good at all. There was no time to think about whether or not he was too late, so John begins pounding on the door. The silence that greets him does little to ease his panic, and he starts desperately yanking on the knob.
John looks around for something to bust the door down with, and his eyes land on a fire extinguisher. Lifting it, he rams it against the door until finally it crashes open. His eyes immediately snap to Sherlock, and they widen as he sees Culverton Smith, his hands over Sherlock's mouth.
"GET AWAY FROM HIM NOW".
John knows nothing but pure rage as he sees Smith attempting to suffocate his best friend. He grabs Smith by the shoulders and locks him with his elbow, putting distance between him and Sherlock. Just then, backup arrives, and John hands him off to be restrained. John focuses his attention on Sherlock.
"Sherlock, are you okay?!" John doesn't attempt to mask his panic. He walks towards the bedside.
Sherlock closes his eyes and breathes deeply. He nods slightly.
"What was he doing to you?"
"Suffocating me," Sherlock opens his eyes and looks at John, who has dropped to his level. Unshed tears shine in both of their eyes.
"You let him do this to you. Why?" There's a hint of betrayal in John's voice at this admission.
Sherlock closes his eyes once more. "I needed to know if it was true." His breathing is still labored, but he is stable for the most part.
"You didn't have to go and get yourself nearly killed to prove he's a serial killer!" John tries to hold himself back, but the hurt is evident in his voice. He knows Sherlock could've solved this using his deductions; he knows this was completely unnecessary self-destruction. The thought of losing him again was almost too much. How could he do that to --
"I needed to know if it was true that you could still care about me after everything that happened".
Oh. This wasn't about proving he could solve the case; it was about proving the strength of their friendship. The friendship that John had let slip after Mary's death.
"Yes, Sherlock, of course --" John's voice breaks, and he struggles to regain his composure. "Of course, I still care about you." John looks at Sherlock, whose eyes are now open. John's tears fall unashamedly. "You're my best friend."
Sherlock looks up at John the way a small child might look at someone after receiving reassurance, eyes round and hopeful. A tear falls from his eye, and he makes no move to wipe it away. John places a hand on Sherlock's shoulder and grips it tight.
"But promise me something, Sherlock. Promise me." His voice is low and his eyes are filled with intense emotion. Sherlock's attention is locked on John. "Promise me you will never put yourself intentionally in harm's way to prove that again, ok? I can't lose you...again." With that, John breaks down, unable to conceal the depth of what he has gone through in the past 24 hours. As he sobs on the edge of the hospital bed, Sherlock slowly sits himself up and closes the distance between them.
John's head rests on Sherlock's shoulder, and Sherlock's arms circle his back. His voice is almost too quiet to hear, and had they not been so close to one another, John was sure he would've missed it:
"Your life is not your own; keep your hands off it."
"Hm?" John wipes his eyes with one hand but does not move from the embrace.
"That's what I said to 'Faith'... or whoever that was... when she visited me at Baker Street." Sherlock takes a breath. "She was suicidal, and I...knew that feeling."
John pulls back to look Sherlock in the eyes; the pain is deep. John doesn't need to speak; Sherlock can see the question clearly in his eyes.
"No...not really. Well, you'll hear it in the recording. 'I don't want to die'... I didn't realize how true that was until I was that close to death."
John closes his eyes briefly. Listening to that recording would be difficult. He opens his eyes to meet Sherlock's.
"I'm here now...and I know I've been distant. I'm still grieving my wife," he pauses to control his composure, "and the life we had before -- you know. But I am here. And it will be ok, we both will be ok."
Sherlock nods as he lowers himself back onto the bed. Truthfully he felt awful. John reaches out for his hand.
"Thank you...for coming back."
Sherlock locks eyes with John before responding, "Thank you for staying."
