Sherlock Imagines

Sherlock | This Is Family

Sherlock x Sister! Reader

It had all happened so fast. All you remember was standing in a room with your older brother Mycroft. You were discussing something when an explosion occurred. You don't know how a bomb got into his office. But it certainly served its purpose.

You and Mycroft were thrown into a wall and slumped down next to each other. It barely registered when Mycroft's hand slipped into yours. He had took the most damage from the blast. He slumped against you, unconscious, while you struggled for breath.

Shrapnel had cut threw your shirt, piercing your abdomen. You felt your blood slowly ooze from your would. It made you feel dizzy. You gripped Mycroft's hand harder. You glanced over at him. His head was bleeding and there were multiple cuts covering him. You gasped. You weren't sure you were going to make it.

That's when you heard shouting. It startled you slightly but gave you hope. You couldn't shout back though. You opened your mouth. No sound would come out. You felt something coming up your throat. It was thick and tasted of iron. That's when you started to panic.

You nearly choked on your own blood when you saw your brother rush into the room.

"Sher.. Sh... Sherlock." You gasped, trying to reach for him. He grabbed your hand immediately.

There was panic in his eyes as he assessed the situation. You turned his head towards the doorway. "JOHN!" He shouted before turning back to you.

"You're going to be okay." He whispered.

His eyes were getting red. The tears in his eyes threatening to fall. You gulped, trying to rid the blood from your throat. You failed to keep the it down, however, you coughed hard. Blood dripped from your lips as you stared at your brother.

"Oh god." John whispered as he finally entered the room. You looked at him, panicked. You started to move your legs, in a vain attempt to clear all the pain and blood. Sherlock panicked when you did. He grabbed your face in both hands.

"Shh, Y/n you're okay." You closed your eyes then reopened them.

"N-No I-I'm not." You whispered. Sherlock held so much pain. Then you heard a groan. You looked over at Mycroft.

He cracked his eyes opened. The first thing he did was look at you. One look was all it took. He squeezed your hand almost painfully. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he glanced up at the ceiling to try to keep them in.

You had never seen Mycroft cry before. He was the strong big brother. Always looking out for you and Sherlock. But now you were dying. And it was his fault.

"S-Shut up." You coughed at him. He glanced at you, tears falling down his face even more.

You felt gauze get pressed against stomach. You groaned and squeezed your eyes shut, the grips your brothers had on your hands got tighter.

"I didn't say anything." Mycroft mumbled. You glance at him and gave him a weak smile.

"You were thinking and it's annoying." Mycroft chuckled softly but a frown stayed prominent.

"It isn't your fault." You groaned when John shifted his hand slightly. "Sorry." He mumbled. "The paramedics are almost here. Keep her talking."

You coughed again and glanced at Sherlock. He was being very quiet. "You are being too quiet." You mumbled.

"Use that brain of yours. Tell me what happened." You smiled at him. He tried to smile back but he couldn't. He sniffled and glance around the room.

"Considering how completely destroyed the desk is, it was somewhere in or on it. The shrapnel that a... that wounded you most likely came from the bomb."

You nodded and leaned your head against Mycroft's shoulder. Mycroft sobbed quietly, placing his head on yours.

"Catch this Son of a bitch for me." You smiled letting your eyes slip closed.

Mycroft closed his eyes too. Not holding the tears back. Sherlock was shouting your name. John yanked you down on your back as gently as possible. He began CPR just as the paramedics rushed in.

The last thing you felt was a pair of lips pressing against your forehead.