Too Little, Too Late (Johnlock)

Realisation

It was going so well, I was sure we had him, but then he pulled out a gun. He was stuck at the end of an alley way, the only thing between him and freedom was me and John. I realised too late what was happening as I heard the gunshot, the criminals cruel laugh and the thud John's body made as it slumped to the ground. I didn't care any more, I let the criminal go. The only thing I could think about was John, my John.

John.

John.

John.

I feared it was too late, that the shot had been fatal and that I would never hear John laugh or see his smile ever again, but as I dropped to the ground beside him I realised that all was not lost. I could hear him breathing, it was slow ragged breaths, but he was still breathing. I pulled out my phone and stabbed the number in. 999. I put the phone on loud speaker and lay it on the ground next to me, explaining what had happened while I sat with John, cradling his head in my lap, murmuring to him, convincing him he would be okay. 

The paramedics arrived 7 minutes later, 1 minute quicker than usual, normally I would have been impressed but I was too worried about my John. I did it again, called him my John. It was then that I realised my true feelings for him, I loved my flatmate, my doctor, my blogger, and I couldn't imagine life without him. They took him into the ambulance and I sat at his head, stroking his soft, sandy hair and willing him to open those gorgeous eyes of his. He just lay there, unmoving, as we drove quickly towards the hospital. 

When we arrived they asked me to wait in the relatives room, obviously not wanting me to get in the way. I did as I was told for once and left them to their job. It felt like days before someone came to find me. It was bad news, there had been some complications in surgery and John was in a medically induced coma. They said that they were sure he would pull through but his body just needed time to heal. They took me to his room and said that I should speak to him, apparently people who are in comas can sometimes still hear what is going on around them.

When I entered his room it took all my will power to not break down in tears, his body was still, the steady beeping of the life support the only noise in the room. I dragged myself over to the chair beside his bed and sat down. I took his hand in mine and held it tight, feeling the weak pulse in his wrist. I just sat, looking down on his beautiful face, willing it to show that smile once more. 

I never left his side, for the whole three weeks (except obviously for toilet breaks). I had occasional visits from Lestrade and Molly. Mrs Hudson came at least once every day, sometimes twice. She would bring me food but I never ate it, I would drink the coffee but the food always lay untouched on the unit. I even had a visit from Mycroft once, he didn't say much, just nodded in my direction, gave a small smile, stayed standing at the other side of the room for a while and then left half an hour later.

When I felt like it, usually in the middle of the night when it was quieter, I would speak to John. I would read him the cases he had written up for his blog and give a fake laugh at the appropriate moments. 

I told him.

I told him my feelings for him. I didn't think he would hear them, he didn't seem to hear anything else that I said. I told him about the fact that I was scared of losing him. The one man who had not labelled me as a freak the first time he had met me. The only man that could make me smile a genuine smile. The only man that understood my little quirks and forgave me when I pissed him off. 

I told him that I loved him. That the only person that I have ever loved and ever will love was him. I leaned over, gently kissed him on the forehead and whispered 'I love you',  before snuggling up in the armchair to sleep for the night, the first night in three weeks.