In The Game of Love

nineteen

 Due to the amount of blood lost and other injuries Sherlock had gotten, John immediately told him to lay down and got to work. Y/N sat silently, with Sherlock's head on her lap. She was still being quiet and solemn, processing everything. If Sherlock had a little more strength, he would try to comfort Y/N. It was hurting him to see her this way, as he knew it was hurting her seeing him this way.

Y/N's hands absentmindedly ran through Sherlock's hair. She could tell if she was trying to comfort herself or Sherlock. Simza was holding one of Sherlock's hands, singing gently to him. John had stripped down to this pants and undershirt, and was stitching Sherlock together. Y/N watched as Sherlock's eyes slowly closed. Her head tilted to the side as she felt a slight shift in him. Her hands went down his face, one going under his nose.

"He's not breathing," Y/N gasped out in fear. "He's not breathing."

John stopped what he was doing to check himself. "Cradle his head," he ordered. Y/N did as she was told, tears slipping down her cheeks. "Raise his legs." Tamas quickly got to Sherlock's legs. "Bloody well not gonna die on me." John began compressions on Sherlock's chest. He paused after a few to check for a pulse that wasn't there. "I'm not gonna make this easy on you." John hit Sherlock's chest before beginning compressions again. "Come on. Come on. Come on." John punched his friend's chest again. "Come on."

Y/N was now full on crying. "Sherlock," she quietly pled. "Please. You can't do this to me."

"I know you can hear us, you selfish bastard. Come on!" John hit at Sherlock's chest. "I know you can hear me, you bastard." Simza got between John and Sherlock, holding John close as he got emotional.

"No," Y/N cried. "No." She moved so that she had a better vantage point. "Come back to me, Sherlock... I... I told you I love you... you told me it back... you can't leave now." She collapsed onto his chest. "Sherlock! Please!!"

John watched as Y/N cried into Sherlock. He hurt from himself and Y/N. He had to come up with something that he could— "His wedding gift."

John rushed over to his coat and pulled out Sherlock's wedding gift. He took the needle out and tore the top off with his teeth.

"Y/N move," John requested.

"What?" She questioned, sitting up. "What are you going to do?"

"This."

And then John plugged the needle into Sherlock's chest. They waited for a few painfully long seconds before Sherlock's eyes snapped open and he gasped.

"AHHH!" Sherlock screamed, scrambling to his feet and running to the other side of the train car. "Terrible dream," he panted. He turned and pointed to Y/N. "You, John, Mary, Gladstone, and I were in a restaurant. That satanic horse was there as well." John headed for Sherlock slowly. Y/N was frozen, still crying and overwhelmed. "A massive fork in his hoof and he turned on me!" John grabbed Sherlock to steady him. "What have you administered?"

John held up the needle. "Your wedding present."

Sherlock patted his chest. "Who's been dancing on my chest?!"

"Me."

"What is my ankle so itchy?"

"You have a large piece of wood sticking out of it."

"Right." Sherlock pointed at Tamas as John tried to guide him to sit down. "You, Tamas. I have an important job to discuss with you. Remind me of it later."

"Sit down." Sherlock sat down and John handed over a vile. "Drink this. I need to get that out before it turns septic."

Sherlock ripped off the top of the vile and drank it. Simza looked at Y/N and knew that she had no strength left in her. She came over and guided Y/N up on her feet and to Sherlock's side.