The Soldier's Husband

6. "Please Sherlock Please..."

John raced back down to the street, signalling a cab as he ran. He sat in the back anxiously as the driver drove off to the train station. Please be a normal taxi driver, John thought, because I really don't have time to shoot someone again today.
Luckily, it was just a regular taxi driver. When he pulled up at the station, John tossed him the money, yelling "Keep the change!" over his shoulder as he raced to get a ticket.
"Baskerville, please," he puffed as he asked for a ticket.
"You're just in time! One arrives in 5 minutes. You in a rush?" the ticket attendant asked.
"You have no idea," John said, thanking her and taking the ticket.
He hurried to the correct platform and waited anxiously for the train. There weren't many other people on the platform, and those who were there seemed to be looking at him funny. After a minute or so one of them came over.
"Sir," she whispered, looking down, "you're wearing slippers." John looked down and blushed. In his rush, he'd thrown on a jumper and jeans but was still in his slippers, with unbrushed hair and stubble on his chin. John nodded and whispered a thank you.
When the train arrived at long last, John sat in a carriage by himself, right beside the door. His thoughts were occupied by Sherlock, as always, but instead of love he now felt fear.
"John?" a voice said from the carriage door.
"Lestrade?" John exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"
"We're going to see Lestrade's parents down in Devon. Where are you going?" Mycroft said, joining Lestrade, who had stepped inside the carriage and sat down opposite John.
John frowned slightly, worried. How could he worry Mycroft and Lestrade like this, the day before their wedding?
"John," Mycroft said, concerned, "Where's Sherlock?" John squeezed his eyes shut.
"We had a fight about what Lestrade's first name was so I think he's gone to Baskerville to trigger his memory and prove himself right," John said in a rush. Mycroft's eyebrows shot up.
"My idiot little brother," he muttered.
"What did he think my name was?" Lestrade asked.
"Gary..." John sighed. "He thought you were called Gary." Lestrade sat back with a sigh.
"Sherlock," he groaned. "Why is he so stupid?"
"I ask myself that every day," John said.
"Ditto," Mycroft added.
"Listen, you two enjoy your little holiday. I'll find Sherlock and call an ambulance if he's overdosed again," John said.
"Not a chance," Mycroft said fiercely, and Lestrade nodded. "We need to help my brother."

They arrived in Baskerville, and piled into a taxi, heading for the pub where they'd seen Lestrade, where Sherlock hadn't believed his name was actually Greg.
They jumped out of the taxi and slammed the door. Mycroft flashed his Mr British Government badge at the driver, and he drove off without asking for money.
John hurried ahead, looking everywhere for Sherlock. He ran to the reception desk.
"Has this man come in here today?" he asked the woman working there, showing her a photo. She nodded.
"He's over there. Think he's asleep," she said, pointing. John swore under his breath and raced over to Sherlock, Mycroft and Lestrade on his heels.
Then John saw Sherlock, and it was exactly the same as six months ago. He felt the wind get knocked out of him, and he dropped to his knees beside the pale, silent body of his best friend.
"Sherlock," he gasped, trying to take a pulse. It was slow. Very, very slow. Slower even than the last time.
"No, no, no, no!" he said, voice rising to a near-shout. "Sherlock, no, you will wake up, you have to wake up for me! Please, Sherlock, please..." Sherlock's eyes fluttered open slightly, and he looked at John with a small smile.
"I love you," he whispered, before closing his eyes again and slumping back. John frantically felt his heartbeat.

It had stopped.

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I am an awful human being I am so so sorry for this! I think I need to be punished... Oh wait I'm already being punished by Moffat.
I'm really busy at the moment so don't expect regular updates, however I will try to update every weekend.
Which means you have to wait a whole week to find out if Sherlock is alive.
- johnlockwatson