Unexpected

Bullets

P.O.V Sherlock

I sat with John in the ambulance and when we got the hospital, I waited for him while they removed the bullet. When they had done so, they allowed me to go to his room. His eyes were closed. I sat down in that chair next to the bed. I glanced at him then at a the wall opposite me.

"Sherlock?" I looked at him.

"Yes?"

"Thank you"

I was extremely confused. "What the hell for? It's my fault you got shot, because if I had just-"

"Shut up Sherlock." I did as I was told. "Thank you for finding me."

"Why wouldn't I have?"

"I don't know..." He dropped his gaze to his hands.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

He was quiet for a second.

"It's just... Moriarty. He told me you didn't care...that I was just an experiment or something-"

"John," I interrupted, putting my hand on his face and turning his head gently so he looked at me, "Why would you believe that imbecile?"

"I don't know..." He replied quietly.

"John," I looked into his eyes, " I love you and don't let anyone ever try to tell you otherwise. You are not some mere experiment. You mean so much to me. You mean everything to me."

He smiled at me and the corners of my mouth pulled up.

I put my hand on the back of his head and leant in till our lips met.

I pulled away after a few seconds.

"I love you Sherlock." John whispered.

I sat back in my chair and smiled.

There was a quiet knock before a nurse walked in.

"Hello. How are you feeling?" She asked John.

"I'm fine." He glanced at me and smiled.

"Great. The pain medication we gave you must have kicked in already. You should be able to go home in a few hours if all remains well. When you leave, we will give you some medication that you will need to take every morning to prevent infection."

"Okay, thank you" John replied.

She smiled and left the room.

.

.

.

John was allowed to leave a few hours later. He would have to use his walking cane again while the wound healed. When we got back to Baker Street, the bodies were gone, and the room looked normal again. I helped John to the sofa and laid him down on it. I gave him the remote for the Tv, however he shook his head. I went over to my violin, picked it up and began playing.

The tune was one I played often, but John said he liked it, so I played it anyway.

When I finished playing, John looked up at me and smiled.

It was dark outside now, so I helped John up to his room. (Although we had been together for a few months now, we still slept in separate rooms.)

I left him and went down to sit in my armchair. I sat, and went to my mind palace...

P.O.V John

I was in Afghanistan. I heard gunshots all around me. I saw someone holding a gun. They pulled the trigger, and I closed my eyes, bracing myself for the impact. However, it never came. I opened my eyes and saw a man laying on the ground in front of me. He had dark curls, and beautiful features.

Sherlock.

He had blood pouring from his chest where he had been shot. I put my hands on his wound and put a slight pressure on it. He looked up at me.

"Goodbye John" He said.

I felt tears sting my eyes.

"No. No no no no. You can't. Don't leave me. Please."

His eyes fluttered shut and his breathing stopped. I reached for his wrist and felt his pulse, alas there was non.

"No! Sherlock! Sherlock!"

I sat up, sweat clinging to my forehead, and tears racing down my cheeks and there was a dull pain in my leg.

"John? What happened? What's wrong?" Sherlock asked. I looked to the end of my bed and saw him stood there. The panic was clear on his face.

I looked at him. He's alive.

When I didn't answer him, he spoke again, sitting down on the bed as he did, careful to avoid contact with my injured leg.

"John...What is wrong?"

I looked down at the floor.

"I had a dream...a nightmare..."

"What happened?"

"It was in Afghanistan...someone tried to shoot me, but...but you jumped between the bullet and me... and you...you..." I felt my eyes sting with tears that threatened to spill over.

Sherlock looked at me, eyebrows furrowed, though I was sure he knew what I was going to say.

"You got hit and...died." I choked out the last word, tears running down my face.

Sherlock shifted on my bed so he was sat next to me. He put his arm around me, and I curled up next to him, and placed my head on his chest. He leant back, lying on the mattress. Since his arms were wrapped around me, it made me lie with him. He turned to look at me.

"It's alright. I'm here. I'm fine." He whispered to me, before leaning down and placing a light kiss on my lips. He pulled me closed, and entangled our legs. I closed my eyes, and fell asleep in the arms of the only consulting detective.