It Could be You

Chapter17

       The atmosphere in the room changed quickly. Hope blossomed for a quick moment as Sherlock's head snapped up to see Lestrade holding a gun out in front of him and shouted, "Police! I said drop it lads, or I will shoot the both of you."

Carter's face fell into another snarl of frustration. Sherlock knew what would happen a second before it did and lurched himself sharply to the left in his chair. Carter lunged forward toward Lestrade's aimed weapon, and Sherlock heard two shots fire out simultaneously. One came from Lestrade's police issue Browning, while the second came from Frank's pistol. Sherlock felt the bullet graze his right bicep in a bee sting punch, but he'd managed to evade getting a bullet through his chest.

Lestrade let out a sharp howl of surprise as he saw Sherlock go down turned and fired another two shots into Frank's back.

Sherlock drew up his knees to provide himself one small layer of protection from Frank's weapon should he fire off another shot in his dying agonies. But, Frank sank to his knees, eyes wide and fell forward onto his face. Carter cradled his shoulder as blood seeped through his fingers. He'd been shot in the lung and had stumbled forward only to have Lestrade catch him before he hit too the floor.

Sherlock used his prone position to break apart the chair and free himself from his bonds. Finally, he pulled off the ropes and went to check on Frank. He kicked the gun away from his hand just in case and reached down to feel his neck.

"He's got no pulse," Sherlock announced.

Together they got Carter onto his back and Lestrade said "I've got medics on their way. You'll be alright. Just hang in there."

Sherlock had no idea how Lestrade had the ability to care what happened to such men after he'd witnessed what they had tried to do. If Sherlock had been alone with these men and a gun, he might just have let Carter bleed out.

"Are you alright here? I need to go home," Sherlock said feeling an urgent need to see John.

"I checked upstairs first," Lestrade said. "Found John out cold and called for an ambulance. His pulse is strong and steady. I called for backup but thought I'd better get down here and see what was going on down here. Good thing too, he looked right ready to..."

"I'll just go make sure," Sherlock said and ran out the back door. He heard sirens as he bound up the seventeen steps to the flat.

Four hours later, John woke up from his drug induced stupor in a hospital bed. Sherlock had sat by his side the entire time, sometimes holding the doctor's hand and other times pacing the room. He'd been hooked up to monitors and given some medicine to counteract the extreme sedatives he'd been given

"Hello," John said in a whisper.

John's blue eyes had never looked more beautiful to Sherlock than at that moment.

Sherlock drew up a chair next to the bed and grabbed John's hand. "Thank God you're awake. The doctor was afraid you'd been given an overdose. Thought you might have been put into a coma."

"That's what happens when you muck about with dangerous sedatives you know nothing about, then?" John said and smiled. "Frankly, those were terrible criminals."

Sherlock huffed out a laugh despite the overwhelming worry he still felt at seeing John laid out on that hospital bed. "Yes, really amateur at best. Frank is dead, and Carter is in ICU fighting for his life."

"Lestrade?" John asked putting a weakly to his chest. The sight of it hurt something profound in Sherlock.

"Yes. Lestrade saved us both. Must send him a card of thanks," Sherlock said placing one warm hand over John's smaller one. "You rest. It's all been taken care of. You just rest."

"I'm okay, Sherlock," John said patting the detective's hand reassuringly. I woke up. That's a good thing. I'm still feeling a bit dizzy and nauseous, but I'll be okay. And, I think you DI Lestrade a pint or two at least."

"For rescuing you, I'd give him anything he wanted," Sherlock said looking warmly down at his doctor.

"I'll have to remember that," Lestrade said poking his head into the room. "Just stopped by to see how you're recovering, mate."

Sherlock's face pinked, but he didn't let go of John's hand. He turned around and grinned at the DI. "You saved us both. Thank you."

Lestrade's jaw dropped in surprise, and John giggled. "You're bloody welcome, Sherlock. John, I'll let you rest," he said and left.

"I think you're going to have to solve at least half a dozen really boring, mundane cases," he said and sobered at seeing Sherlock's face.

"John," Sherlock began. "I can't tell you how sorry I am that I got you involved in this."

"No, Sherlock. This was not your fault. You only sought out a little human contact. You have every right to seek that out from whoever you wish. I just hope this doesn't put you off trusting in other people."

"I trust you, John. I trust in you and hope you know that I'm yours for as long as you'll have me."

"Of course I want you and I'm yours. I don't know what I'd do without you," John said trying to sit up.

Sherlock placed both hands on John's shoulders and said, "No, you lie down. Now that we've found each other, finally, I'm not going anywhere. And, either are you."

"So, you going to tell me about it then?" John asked setting back into this bed.

Sherlock recounted everything and John's eyes widened when Sherlock told him Frank's plans to have John murder them both while under the influence of the drugs. He swallowed thickly and said, "If I'd have woken up to find you dead and me covered in your blood..."

Sherlock said quickly, "Shhh, I should have waited to tell you that." He stooped over and gathered John into his arms as best he could and hugged him. "I'm fine. And we have friends to help us, John. Together we can fight anything that comes our way."

John relaxed into Sherlock's embrace. "You've got that right," John said.

Sherlock agreed and felt everything shift into place. Even though they'd just survived another harrowing adventure, his life felt perfectly right for the first time in his life.

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