Chapter Text
Sherlock closed the door behind him. He had his hands folded and pressed against his chest. Now he opened them and looked down. John’s blood was still on them. He felt his eyes fill again. “Fuck!” He ran to the tap in the kitchen and opened it, frantically pouring soap on them and rubbing them against each other, trying to get it off. “Get it off! Get off me!” His words turned into half-choked sobs as he put his wet and still slightly bloody hands in his curly hair. “Fuck!” He felt himself drift away from reality, his surroundings were too loud, too bright. The panic stuck in his chest was too much.
His John was dying, and it was all because of him. He started to rub his face, then hitting and scratching himself. How could he do this? How could he sit in a palace while John was dying, alone, in a dirty tunnel? He felt tears running down his face, soaking his shirt. He slid down with his back against the wall and grabbed his knees with one hand, rocking back and forth. With his other hand he was still hitting his head.
“Cold hands, warm heart.”
Suddenly he heard the tap close and someone complained about water on the ground. Then they discovered him on the floor.
“Oh Sherlock…” He heard a soft voice say. “John?” He whimpered. Then he realized it was Marianna. Fool. “No, sorry. I see you are having a meltdown. I don’t know how to handle this like John, but I’ll try. I’m going to grab your arms now, okay?” She slowly grabbed his wrists and held them down in his lap. “Do you want a hug?” Sherlock made a noise that sounded like a yes, so Marianna pulled him in and put her chin on top of his head. She rubbed his back, and he felt pathetic. Like a child needing his mother. Marianna started to hum a song. He was still sobbing, but feeling more grounded and okay now. But also stupid. “Thank you.” He whispered. Marianna nodded, and let him go. She held his shoulders and looked him up and down. “I soaked your shirt.” Marianna chuckled. “That’s okay Sherlock.” She was silent for a while, and then she got up. She held out a hand and pulled him up as well. “Are you okay?” She asked. Sherlock nodded. “I’m sorry. I'm so sorry. You are sad as well ofcourse and I didn’t mean to- " "stop! Stop! It’s not your fault. We are all pretty fucked up after that.” She sighed. “Im going to sleep at the hospital tonight. I was going to grab my stuff. Are you okay with sleeping alone?” Sherlock shook his head. “Im coming too. We have to be there for him.” Marianna frowned. “You sure?” Sherlock nodded. Then he held out his hands like a little kid who fell in some dirt. “I can’t- I can’t get it off.” Marianna bit her lip when she saw the blood. “I’ll help you.” Her voice trembled. She helped him wash it off. They packed their things in silence. Archie was with Wiggins.
It was raining outside. Marianna was crying. Sherlock put an arm around her shoulder and used the other one to wave for a cab.
At the hospital the man behind the counter smiled at them and asked them if they were okay. He told them that Stamford had arranged for them to stay overnight. They nodded with a weak smile and walked towards the ICU. The hallway was bright and long. Sherlock had his eardefenders on, and the world sounded muffled, far away. At John’s door they stopped and comforted each other in silence. Then Marianna opened the door. John was hooked up to multiple machines. He looked horrible. “Jezus Christ” Sherlock breathed out. The hole in John’s chest was so small. It was unbelievable that it’d almost killed him. The bullet was already out, and they had stitched it, but the sight of it was still not great. Sherlock dropped his bags and walked towards John. “John-“ he said softly, and he tried to smile. “We are here.” He grabbed John’s hand and sank down onto his knees. Marianna sat down next to him. “Hi John. We are going to sleep here tonight. Isn’t that nice? Well have a sleepover.” Marianna chuckled softly, but she didn’t sound happy. John was so quiet, so still. He looked fake.
Marianna and Sherlock made their chairs comfortable and sat down. They talked for a while until Marianna passed out. Sherlock smiled sadly and watched at the people that willingly endangered themselves every day to help him. He didn’t deserve them.
In the middle of the night Marianna opened her eyes. She saw Sherlock sitting next to John, holding his hand and whispering inaudible things to him. Marianna smiled sadly and closed her eyes again.
————————————————————————
Marianna sat down in the grass in front of the garrideb house. Her jeans were getting soaked, but she didn't care. She tried to calm herself down and breathed in and out slowly. Sherlock and Stamford had gone with John to the hospital. She grabbed her phone. After two rings Carol picked up.
“Hey Carol.”
“Did you find him?”
Carol's voice sounded panicked when she picked up.
Marianna swallowed.
“We… we did, yes.”
“Thank god, where is he? Can you give me to him?”
Marianna felt her eyes fill with tears.
“Honey? Are you still there?”
Marianna sniffled.
“Marianna?”
“Oh Carol, I am so sorry.”
“What? What’s wrong? Where is John? Can I talk to him?”
Marianna put a hand over her mouth and closed her eyes.
How to tell a mother that she may have just lost her child?
“What’s wrong?”
“We found him in a tunnel and he-“
Marianna was sobbing now.
“What is wrong? Is he okay?”
Carol sounded horrified.
“Marianna?”
Her world was falling apart.
“He’s not- He was shot in the chest.”
It was quiet for a while.
“you’re lying”
“I’m not, I'm sorry. He’s at St Barts right now.”
She heard Carols breath speed up on the other side.
“God I'm so sorry. We all love him so much.”
“Im on my way. Is he stable?”
Marianna swallowed again. Her mouth was dry.
“No, not yet.”
“Im on my way now.”
Carol hung up.
Marianna buried her face in her hands and cried.
————————————————————————
Carol's face was tear-stained.
Sherlock sat in a corner on a chair, his knees pulled up. He was rocking back and forth slightly.
He didn’t dare to look at Carol.
She held John’s hands and kissed his forehead and whispered things at him. After a while she sat down in a chair.
“Isn’t it great how he got a whole room to himself?”
Marianna smiled weakly.
“When will he wake up?”
Stamford sighed. “We don’t know, I'm sorry Carol.”
Carol nodded and swallowed hard. She smiled.
“He’ll be okay”
Still her eyes betrayed her and tears were rolling down again.
“Oh Carol.” Marianna walked over and hugged her. Carol stained her shirt with her tears.
“He was coming to Swindon tomorrow to watch the match. Oh god.”
Stamford put a hand on her shoulder.
Sherlock cried silently in his corner.
He almost killed his best friend.
Stamford opened the door of the toilet. He washed his hands, dried them and put them on the sink, slightly leaning forward. He faced himself in the mirror. He looked terrible. “Fuck.” He wiped the tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand.
Text message.
Is he alive?
He felt tears rolling down again, blurring his vision.
He is. Are you okay?
Of course. Dw about me. Are you? Come home if it’s all too much.
He smiled. It was a sad smile. He’d been looking forward to telling John about the baby. Besides his and Nad’s parents he’d be the first to know.
The door opened, Sherlock came in.
They looked at each other in silence. Stamford smiled at him.
“You doing ‘k mate?”
Sherlock nodded.
Then shook his head.
He opened the door of one of the toilets and started to puke.
Stamford sat down next to him and held his hair back. Sherlock got up and sat with his back against the wall. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Sorry."
“Don’t worry about it”
"No, really. I'm so sorry. This is all my fault.”
“What are you on about? This is no one's fault!”
“I can’t face Carol. She doesn’t deserve what I did to her. I almost killed her son.”
“Sherlock-”
“Why wasn't I there? I knew that the Garrideb houses weren't safe and I still let him go alone. I preferred being knighted in a palace. A palace. I should’ve gone with him.”
Sherlock was silent for a moment.
“He’s too kind, Stamford. What will we do without him?”
“Hey, he is stable now. He'll wake up.”
“But what if he doesn’t? Or what if he can never walk again?”
Sherlock breathed in, and said softly:
“I wish he’d shot me instead of John.”
“Sherlock, please don’t say that-”
“I mean it, Stamford. I deserve it more than him.”
Sherlock got up. “I’m going home. Tell Carol that I’m sorry. I’ll call Marianna.”
Stamford nodded.
“Take care of yourself mate.”
Sherlock smiled a bitter smile. Then he left.
Stamford buried his face in his hands.
“oh John mate if you knew how much we need you…”
He wiped his tears away and got up.
Sherlock grabbed a cigarette from one of the packets in his drawer. He lit it and sat in the bathtub. He knew Marianna and John hated it when he smoked indoors, but he didn’t care right now.
After a while he realised that he was soaked. Apparently he’d opened the tab and now he was surrounded by warm water. He sat like that for a while.
He lit another cigarette.
John got shot.
He stared at the text. Mycroft needed to know. Mycroft knew what to do and would be there for him. Like he’d always been. He knew how to calm Sherlock down.
I’m sorry. Are you alright?
Sherlock sighed.
Not really. I need another cigarette.
Half an hour later Mycroft sat next to him on the side of the bath.
“Is this like a grounding method or?”
Sherlock shrugged.
“I’m sorry to hear about John, Little One. We underestimated how powerful your… spider was.”
Sherlock sighed.
“Did you find him yet?”
Mycroft inhaled sharply and blew out a cloud of smoke.
"Not yet.”
Sherlock got up and grabbed a towel.
“Make us some tea, will you? I’m gonna change.”
“John is safe”
“But how do you know for sure?”
Mycroft handed him a phone.
“Moran thinks he’s dead.”
Sherlock nodded.
“Thank you.”
Mycroft took a sip of his tea.
“Sherlock. I know that you have more than enough cigarettes. What's the real reason that you wanted me to come?”
Sherlock sighed and looked down at his tea.
“I’m scared.”
Mycroft nodded.
“I know.”
“And I think I hate myself.”
“- Oh.”
Both were quiet for a while.
“I have been asked for an… errand. In Greece. If you wanna come?”
Sherlock shook his head.
“I need to be here for John and Marianna.”
“Okay.”
Sherlock looked up.
“Do you still play the violin?”
Mycroft chuckled.
“I do, yes.”
“play something.”
“Now?” Sherlock nodded again.
“Alright little one. For this once, I will.”
It was a somber, melancholic tune.
Sherlock closed his eyes, and thought about yesterday. How they’d found John. How he was laying in a small puddle of his own blood. He had fallen onto a rail line, hard. John had said his name, and Sherlock had held his hand before John passed out. Sherlock had frantically felt for a pulse.
It had been so weak.
He remembered how the paramedics looked panicked.
The paramedics were scared.
“How was that?”
Sherlock quickly wiped his tears away.
“Okay, I suppose.”
Mycroft smiled.
“I think you should get back to the hospital.”
Sherlock nodded.
It was still raining outside.
Mycroft waited for a cab with him. When it arrived Sherlock turned around and hugged him. “thank you”.
Mycroft smiled and hugged him back.
"Of course, little one. Call me if you need anything.”
Sherlock let him go and got into a cab. Mycroft watched them drive to the end of the street.
Then he sighed, put his hands in his pockets and turned around.