MtP Ending 1

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"I suggest everyone leave and try to go about a normal day. I will stay here to monitor and if anything changes I will let you know." John advises and looks at Sherlock.
The detective clenches his fists. "Fine. You're the expert John."
"Thank you Mr. Watson." William bows and looks at (Y/n) before he leaves.
Louis and Albert follow.
Sherlock stays a few moments longer, staring at the woman.
"Sherlock there isn't anything you can do now. Stop worrying and go back home. I'm sure Miss Hudson is wondering what's going on."
"I know you're right John, but I shot her. What if I've hurt others too? I couldn't live with myself if I did. And if she dies-"
"Sherlock, go home already." The doctor pushes his friend out and closes the door.

Watson looks around at all the supplies that are lying around and nods in approval. "Hopefully everything goes smoothly from here. (Y/n) please wake up soon. It doesn't have to be right away but at least by tomorrow night."
Obviously fate wasn't having it.
John was diligent in his observation. He made sure to check everything but he noticed after about half an hour how often he was changing her bandages.
It seemed every time she breathed the blood stain would get larger.
Her breathing continued to be ragged and he could tell she was in pain.
"The wound is-"
Before he could finish his ramblings John saw (Y/n)'s chest stop rising.

The doctor walks over quickly and checks her pulse.
To his horror it wasn't there.
The woman's heart was no longer beating.
John panicked and before he could think his hands were moving.
The bloody bandages came off and he reopened the wound.
He made sure everything was as it should be and restitched the hole.
The blood made him nauseous because she was a friend; never had he had so much blood on his hands.
In order to do another transfusion the heart needs to pump, but when John tried chest compressions they didn't work.

As John sobbed he kept pushing, harder and harder, trying to restart her heart.
After a while he fell to his knees and cried.
"This is all my fault." He whispers and rubs sweat off his forehead with his arm. "I couldn't save her."
Before he could think or do anything else the door slams open.
William is panting and his eyes widen seeing the scene before him.
Sherlock is quick behind him and looks between John and (Y/n).
Albert and Louis arrive a moment later still questioning their brother.
"What happened?" Louis asks, looking at the doctor.

John sniffles and looks away, his fists clenching.
William walks over slowly and sits on the bed.
One hand covers the bandage and the other cups the woman's cheek.
His thumb rubs over the bone slowly.
Tears stream down his cheeks quickly, blurring his vision, but he knew.
She's gone.
"(N/n)," he whispers.
His voice cracks and everyone stands silent.
Not only William but Sherlock as well.
The detective falls to his knees and squeezes his eyes shut, banging his fist on his forehead.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't save her. She lost so much blood and I couldn't restart her heart. Please forgive me."
John couldn't even wipe his tears due to his bloody hands.
Albert walks over and hands him a clean towel. "Calm down doctor. It wasn't your fault. Clean yourself up."
The said man cleaned his hands in the bowl of water on the table nearby then dries with the towel.
"I killed her." Sherlock whispers then looks at his best friend. "I'm so sorry, William."
Louis was shocked at the detective using his brother's full name, not the stupid nickname he had given him.

William takes a deep breath and wipes his face. He remains silent as he lifts the sheet over her face.
"Brother," Louis whispers.
Albert puts his hand on his brother's shoulder gently.
Without a word William leaves the room.
John looks at (Y/n) then quickly averts his gaze.
The oldest brother helps the detective stand and rubs his back.
"Even though you were unsuccessful doctor, the help was much appreciated. We will inform you of the funeral arrangements when we have them prepared."
"Thank you Albert. I wish I could've-"
"Was it something I did wrong? Did I cause her-"
Watson cuts off Louis. "No! You did what was needed. I was unable to keep her heart beating. This is on me."

"Piss off John. I'm the one who shot her. This is my fault. I will gather enough pounds for a casket. Just let me know where she'll be buried." Sherlock shoves his hands in his pockets then leaves.
John sighs and bows. "I'm sorry." He whispers before leaving.
Louis finally walks over to the bed and sits down. "The big sister I adored and who loved me unconditionally."
"The woman who changed our lives." The brunette adds.
Being the silent mourners the two cried without a word or sound for a while before leaving.

On the day of the funeral it was a small gathering.
The Moriarty group then the three residents of 221B.
The service was short and the burial was even shorter.
They really wanted to get it over and done with.
Although afterwards was the longest.
When everyone stood and stared at her grave.
The flower petals lightly blow with the breeze.
Eventually everyone left but William and Sherlock.

"Sherly..." William manages to whisper.
"Liam save it." Holmes grumbles and lights a cigarette.
"Did you catch that man you were chasing?"
"Hm? Yeah. It wasn't easy but I managed. Why're you bringing that up?"
"Then she didn't die in vain. She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"Liam, that doesn't make me feel better."
"Will you let grief consume you then? Struggling over what ifs and self-hatred. It will cloud your judgement and your cases will suffer."
"I know! She would tell me to stop crying and get back to work."
"Exactly. That's all we can do. Move on but never forget."

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