Work Text:
"Sherlock, we should have called for backup."
I already did
John was currently behind me, to the left, with a gun to his head, being held by one of the five men who were holding us at gunpoint. I myself had a gun pointed at me in the chest, and the other drug dealers that we were investigating were holding the guns in a way that their bullets wouldn't even graze me.
“Statistically, one of you is going to miss and hit the back wall behind me, and the bullet would, in return, hit you.” I didn’t care if the bullets hit me, but one of the bullets would ricochet and hit John.
I saw Lestrade nodding to me behind the gunman, with his gun out; backup was here.
“I’ll take my chances.” The voice was still echoing off the walls when the shot rang out.
The last thing I heard was my name being ripped from John’s throat.
It felt like heartburn when the world came to a pause. I could see John being held back by Lestrade, and he was trying to pull himself away. His face was frozen in agony, and Lestrade was holding his breath as he was holding onto him. The man who shot me was lying on the ground with a shot to the back. Lestrade must have reacted quickly then.
I then turned around and saw my body on the ground; red liquid was pooling by my chest. I then flinched as my brother stood beside me, his hand on my shoulder.
“Brother mine, you have managed to get yourself in quite a situation.” He was wearing a suit and had that damn umbrella with him.
“Do you want to live?” The question took me aback. I was unable to formulate a response.
“I know you are suicidal given your frequent drug use and lack of care about your safety. Do you want to see what will happen if you do not survive this?” He was looking at me, and we made eye contact. For once, the iceman seemed to be melting, or at least in his eyes.
“Come, brother mine, let’s watch the future you think you deserve.”
He then snapped his fingers, and the world started moving again. John fell to the ground, and Lestrade was on top of him, trying to hold him down.
“You need to stay down! This is a scene, and we can’t touch anything. Damnit, John, stay down!” John was pinned underneath Lestrade, who was pushing down right on his right shoulder. Lestrade looked in pain as he pinned him.
“Your pet seems to be eager to get to you for some reason.” Mycroft looked towards John, who was still trying to fight off Lestrade but was struggling due to his injury to his shoulder.
I felt numb. “He is a doctor. He probably wants to check the entrance wound and see the severity.”
“You're not getting it, Sherlock. It seems to me that there is a person out there who cares for you.”
“He cares for the cheap rent.” John caring about me seemed ridiculous.
“Must be cheap rent to be in tremendous pain right now.” I must be losing a lot of blood right now because my brother wasn’t making any sense to me, and then I looked closer.
John was being pinned to the ground by one of his only friends by his right shoulder, yet he was still fighting Lestrade to get up. With the direct contact that Greg was inflicting on him, he would be in severe pain, yet he was still going.
“Are you implying that John cares for me?”
“What is the saying, brother mine? No shit, Sherlock.”
I had always wondered why John always stayed. For years, I have been trying to push him away because people around me always get their feelings hurt by me. I can’t control my words sometimes and say things that are harmful and make people leave. Not John, though. He corrects me when things that come out of my mouth are “not good” and never takes anything that I said in anger, but rather with amazement.
“I thought you said caring isn’t an advantage.” The pain that was in my voice was from realizing that I was being a complete ass to my best friend for years.
“Caring isn’t an advantage to you; however, what results from it can make life a bit more bearable.”
John finally wasn’t fighting Greg anymore. The DI had gotten off of him and was offering him a hand.
“John, are you with me?”
John wasn’t speaking. He was just staring at the body on the floor as parametics where loading it onto a stretcher. My body on the stretcher.
“He is still alive. The paramedics said that he has a pulse and is breathing. We just have to let him fight.”
Greg brought John into a side hug. “We can follow in my car.”
“Such a shame, Sherlock.” Mycroft was watching the pair leave the scene.
“What now?” I couldn’t think anymore. My brain was blank, and I didn’t know what to do. I caused this. I caused this pain to John. Why? Because I wasn’t strong enough?
“And to think that they are crying over your body right now and you are still in your head with self-pity.”
“What?” I turned to face him.
The room suddenly went black. I was lying down on something but couldn’t move and couldn’t see anything but black.
“You are going to be nothing but a ghost. Isn’t that what you wanted? To die? You wanted that bullet to tear through your heart and kill you. You go on these cases like a foolish idiot because, as people say, you truly are a suicidal dumbass who wants to die. You're a drama queen.”
Mycroft wasn’t sounding like Mycroft anymore. He sounded like John, and it felt as if John was the one talking to me.
“You better not die on me, or I swear to god I will kill you. You think that you can say one thing and you will be alone forever? Wow, you are a dumbass. Jesus, Sherlock your my best friend. It sounds insane to me too, don’t worry. You are my best friend, and I can’t lose you.”
“Sherlock, you may turn my hair grey, but I truly need you. You can say all you want about my wife, or ex-wife. If you come out of this, I will never make fun of you again.”
“Don’t lie to him, Greg.”
John?
John!
“I’m not worth it, John”
“When we met for the first time in Barts, he was able to tell I was in Afghanistan by just looking at me. Then he was able to figure out everything else by my phone. It still amazes me.” John said with a chuckle.
I don’t want to die
“Oi, you remember when he figured out that the hiker was killed with a boomerang? That case still doesn’t make any sense to me.” Lestrade was here too.
“You mean when he made me video-call him from the side of the road so he could stay in a bedsheet at home?”
“Okay, that was pretty good; you win that round.”
“I win every round; I live with him.”
John, I’m sorry. I am so sorry.
“How cheap is the rent? The amount of shit that you put up with makes me think the place is free.”
“It’s not that bad, actually. Mrs. Hudson gives us a great deal. Also, Sherlock isn’t that bad of a roommate, surprisingly. We’ve seen some pretty bad roommates with some of the cases, and I have to say, Sherlock is pretty great.”
John!
“Hopefully he pulls through. He struggled so much with drugs; he deserves to live a happy life before he goes.”
“I honestly can’t imagine living without him. I think I’d go crazy.”
“John.” The voice was so faint, it almost didn’t get a response.
“Sherlock?” John immediately turned around and went towards the hospital bed that was in the center of the room.
“John? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Sherlock was looking John up and down and was searching his body for injury.
“No, I’m ok Sherlock. We are okay.” He pulled the chair next to the bed and sat next to him. Lestrade left the room without a word.
“Mycroft was right. I am so sorry for how I treated you. I took you for granted and was in my own self-pity.”
“Mycroft? Sherlock, what ar-”
“Let’s keep this a secret, brother mine.” Sherlock turned his attention to the door and saw his brother grinning while leaning on his umbrella. John turned to look at the door.
“Sherlock, what are you looking at?” Mycroft disappeared.
“Nothing, John. I am sorry I scared you. I will try to be a better friend in the future.”
“I thought you didn’t have friends. That’s why you jump into dangerous situations and put your life at risk for a case.”
“I don’t. I have one. One that I need to stop taking for granted. I am truly sorry.”
“Don’t ever almost die again. It isn’t worth it. We need you here.”
“Thank you, John. I need to be more honest with you and learn to open up more when I am dealing with more intense thoughts.”
“Sherlock, what do you mean?”
“I’m afraid that sometimes my mind palace turns into a mind prison.” Sherlock was fidgeting with the call remote that was next to him in the bed. John took in his words until a nurse came in.
“You called Mr. Holmes?”
“I believe I would benefit from a mental health consult.” The nurse seemed surprised, but she seemed to be happy with the request.
“I can set that up and have someone come by when they are available. Is there anything else?”
“No, thank you; that is all I need.” Once the nurse left the room, he spoke to John.
“I’m going to try and be less suicidal.” John looked at him with a surprised look on his face.
“If you need anything, Sherlock, you can talk to me.”
“You wouldn’t think less of me? If I told you that sometimes my own brain scares me?”
“Sherlock, when we met I had a psychosomatic limp and PTSD. If you ever make fun of me for having mental health issues, you have my full permission to shoot me.”
“Does it get any easier?”
“If you're asking me if suicidal thoughts go away, as a doctor I am trained to be optimistic and say yes, but as a haver of these thoughts I would say no. You just find more reasons to stay rather than leave. You make a list of all the things in life that make getting up something to look forward to rather than a disappointment.”
“Seems doable. Find the light in the darkness, I guess.” Sherlock was taking in John’s words and was nodding along.
“It doesn’t have to make sense to anyone but you. One of my reasons is running around London and looking at dead bodies with my roommate who keeps body parts in the fridge.” John was starting to chuckle as he looked at Sherlock
“When you put it like that, we sound crazy.” Sherlock was starting to softly smile. The weight of thinking was starting to lighten.
“We are crazy, but it’s okay. Normal is subjective.” John was sitting up in his chair and was looking at Sherlock. The expression on his face was telling him that it really was going to be okay.
“I’m happy to go back to our normal.”
“Me too.”
In that moment, Sherlock realized how he was wrong. No matter how bad he got, how badly he craved a drug that did nothing but harm him, or how much he would be snippy towards John, they were going to be okay. He was going to be okay. In that moment, he realized that the light at the end of the tunnel was right in front of him. Perhaps he could live with that.