One shots (johnlock fluff mostly)

Angel in khakis

Requested by libbiliboo

"John!" Sherlock screamed, flinging his body down almost on top of John and clinging desperately to his shoulders. "John what do I do! John!"

"Sherlock listen!" John said calmly, although clearly in some discomfort. "Apply pressure to the wound"

Sherlock hunted for the wound and soon found it, he paled considerably at the blood that turned John's usually tan skin a dark crimson becoming black in places. He pressed his hands flat against it and he could feel the blood squeezing between his fingers and trickling down the backs of his hands.

"There's a good lad" John whispered quietly, still running on adrenaline so pain wasn't too noticeable yet. Sherlock smiled at john and held his hand over Sherlocks, gently rubbing up and down Sherlocks forearm and John could feel he was shaking and for once no matter how absurd it seemed Sherlock appears more human than any other and his condition was probably worse than John's.

John began to feel faint and grow tired, "keep calm okay Sherl, breathe for me" John said softly, reaching up to touch Sherlocks face before his arm fell heavily to his side, his body going limp.

"J-John?" Sherlock questioned liking ip at john but all he saw was a uncoscious man, the man he knew now covered in blood and his tanned skin pale, his eyes gently shut. "John! Don't leave me!"

He dug his phone roughly out of pocket and lifted his phone to his ear after pressing Mycroft's number. He couldn't breathe and he'd soon be hyperventilating unless he took control of his emotions. Mycroft picked up on his end and could hear Sherlock panicking.

"Sherlock, what's the matter! Sherlock!" Mycroft shouted but Sherlock could only focus on the unconscious man in his arms.

"Myc-mycroft he's dying, help me please, I'll do any-anything, just please save him!" Sherlock begged into the phone, holding as much pressure as he could on the wound, phone on the floor on loud speaker, hands flat against the bullet wound.

"Sherlock calm down, there's a helicopter coming, John will be alright, I'll make sure if it" mycroft said softly, his calm voice balancing out Sherlocks panicked tone. "Breathe Sherlock, alright, in, out, in, out" mycroft counted and Sherlock listened to his brother.

And after what felt like forever, there were paramedics on Mycroft's call and mycroft was there also, as the medics rushed to John and consulted him, mycroft rushed to his little brother, pulling him into his arms, a shaking, disheveled heap.

"Cmon Sherlock, let's go see John now" he whispered gently, stroking a hand through his little brothers hair. He then pulled Sherlock straight and pulled him into one of his private cars alongside him, John already in an air ambulance on his way to the hospital.

"Come here brother, let's get you sorted" mycroft said calmly, taking out his embroidered handkerchief and wiping the dirt and blood off Sherlocks face then cleaning his hands with a bottle of water and using the handkerchief to wipe away John's dried up blood.

"There we go, we're almost at the hospital now" mycroft said, taking Sherlocks bloodied coat off and replacing it with his clean, larger one.

They arrived at the hospital in good time and John was already in surgery, removing the bullet. Mycroft waited by his brothers side during the whole operation, letting Sherlock lean weakly against his shoulder. John was put into a private room with the acceptance of family visitors.

"You can't see him, in sorry Mr Holmes" the nurse said to Sherlock, "family members only" Sherlock looked desperately at his brother and mycroft leaned over and whispered something in the nurses ear, leaning back with his usual cold sneer. The nurse nodded and lead them quickly into John's room.

Sherlock collapsed to his knees at John's bedside, grasping tightly to his hand. "John please!" Sherlock begged, "don't leave me!" He added in a broken whisper and after an hour of sobbing and having his body wracked with tears, he felt a soft hand on his shoulder.

"John?" Sherlock asked uncertainly, looking up through sad eyes.

"I'm here Sherl, right here" John whispered back, "how long have I been out?"

"Two days. Mycroft stayed with me" Sherlock said quickly.

"Did you leave?"

"No, I couldn't, I can't leave you" Sherlock whispered, his voice trembling more.

"Come here" John said gently, shuffling on the bed so his back was pressed to the bar, Sherlock looked at him uncertainly, "stand up" John said softly.

Sherlock stood up with trembling arms and shaking knees, lack of energy and exhausted by shock, John lifted his arm slowly and winced in pain as he stretched across his shoulder, it would still occasionally hurt when he was under stress.

"Are you okay, do you need me to fetch a doctor?" Sherlock asked, worry setting into panic.

"I am a doctor and right now you need rest, so come 'ere" John said firmly, patting the bed beside him, Sherlock nodded timidly and sat with his back facing John. John curved his hand around Sherlocks waist and pulled him so he was lying with his back against John's chest.

He felt John's breathing down his neck and his arm snaking further up his torso until it rested on his chest, John made a human cage around him, holding him close and Sherlock felt safe.

Mycroft came in a while late, three coffee cups held in a tray, only to see his brother fast asleep with john wrapped protectively around him, and it was then that mycroft realized john had given him what no one had thought Sherlock was capable of having, a best friend who was little less than a lover, but clearly loved him, cared for him and most likely would die for him.

Little did mycroft know that's exactly what John had done. He had dived in front of Sherlock as their enemy had pulled out a gun, he had taken the bullet that had been aimed at his heart, and what mycroft missed when he left the two coffee cups on the bedside table , closing the door behind him.

He missed the gentle kiss that was pressed to the nape of his younger brothers neck, the arms that wrapped tighter around his brothers torso, the short legs that hooked over Sherlocks long ones, but also the way his brother snuggled closer.

Maybe the Holmes'
weren't forever alone
Maybe Sherlocks heart
Wasn't torn apart

Maybe there was love
For the unloved
Sunlight for the dark
Kisses pressed to broken hearts

Maybe there was hope
When unbearable to cope
Maybe there was life
For those who want to die

Maybe just maybe there was white
When the world saw black, maybe the ghost of Sherlock Holmes, was to be saved by an angel in khakis.