Y/N's P.O.V.
Leaning against the car, I didn't dare move forward as John and Mary said their goodbyes.
Mycroft watched me curiously, before Sherlock said something to him. The guard, Mary and Mycroft moved away to give them their privacy and honestly, their conversation lasted shorter than I was expecting and it ended with a handshake, before John walked over to Mary. Sherlock looked at me for a moment, before coming over and smiling sadly.
"You should be in the hospital." He said simply and I laughed.
"And you should be at Baker Street." I replied and he nodded his head.
"Y/N, I-"
"Before you say anything..." I cut him off.
"I need you to know 2 things." He nodded his head.
"Firstly, I'm pretty high right now." Sherlock laughed, making me smile.
"Of course you are. Morphine. You did get shot less than 24 hours ago." He shook his head and I sighed, smiling at him.
"The second thing?"
"I love you, Sherlock Holmes. I have done for a while." I frowned.
"And whatever happens, you need to know that. You better come back from... wherever it is Easten Europe that you're going, because don't think for one second that you're not gonna see me again. Because you will. I'll threaten Mycroft... or something." He laughed again and I smiled.
"Goodbye for now, Sherlock."
"Goodbye for now, Y/N." He hugged me gently, careful of the injury on my torso and I grabbed his coat, not wanting to let him go. He kissed my head lightly.
"I love you too." He whispered, before stepping back. He moved towards the plane, before wordlessly boarding it, Mary and John coming over to my side. Mycroft wordlessly got back into the car he came in and the three of us watched the plane take off.
After a few minutes, Mycroft got back out of his car, a worried look on his face.
"-not possible. That's not possible." He insisted, before hanging up.
"He's back."
"Who?" We all asked in unison.
"Moriarty." Mycroft muttered, once again getting back in the car.
"But he's dead. You said he was dead?" Mary looked at me.
"He is. I shot him- Greg even went back and checked the body whilst I was waiting for an ambulance.
"So how can he be back?" Mary questioned and I shook my head.
"Well, if he is..." John began.
"He'd better wrap up warm. There's an east wind coming." We both turned to see what he was looking at, seeing Sherlock's plane landing.
"And he's back..." I smirked.
"You should probably go and talk to him."
"What about you?" John looked at me and I forced a smile.
"The morphine is beginning to wear off and it is definitely not agreeing with me." I sighed.
"I'll be at Baker Street, I'm sure I'll see you later."
"Shouldn't you go back to the hospital instead?" Mary suggested.
"The car will take you back to Baker Street." Mycroft spoke from behind me.
"I strongly advise that you rest... it would be unfortunate if you hurt yourself further."
"Christ, make up your mind. You get in the car, then out of the car. In, out, in, out, what are you doing?" I muttered, slightly annoyed.
"Sorry... that was rude."
"He deserved it." Mary nodded.
"Come on, let's get you into the car."
~
There was a groan as someone lied down next to me. I turned my head to see Sherlock, next to me with his face against the carpet.
"You look bloody awful." I commented, causing him to turn his head and squint at me.
"You're not looking too great yourself." He replied and I grinned tiredly.
"My body is crashing after I overdosed on morphine after I got shot yesterday, what's your excuse?" I asked him, neither of us moving to get up off of the rough carpet.
"I was exiled from my country, my best friends and the woman I love, so naturally, I overdosed on a multitude of drugs, solved a series of murders from 120 years ago and almost died." He spoke slowly, as if he was still trying to process the information himself.
"Nice." I weakly held up my hand for a high five and we clapped our hands together, before our fingers somehow intertwined and we allowed our connected hands to hit the floor.
"So... Moriarty's back."
"Yep." Sherlock nodded and I sighed, closing my eyes.
"John said something about you having a dog?"
"Hmm. A gift from Jim before I blew his brains out. Oh, I don't know if anyone told you, but my brother was alive. I killed him too. He deserved it, he shot me." I muttered as footsteps came up the stairs.
"Mrs. Hudson, if you could be so kind as to get us some blankets?"
"Not Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock mumbled.
"Ugh... my brain is all foggy. It's bad. Not good." I opened my eyes, seeing John looking down at us both in amusement. Or it could have been anger. I couldn't really tell.
"John, if you could get me some more morphine when you fetch that blanket-"
"No more morphine. Christ, you two are a mess." He muttered the last part to himself. I let out a quiet whine when my torso began to hurt again, squeezing my eyes shut.
"If you wanted morphine, you should have stayed in the hospital."
"Oh, god. I feel like shit." I mumbled.
"Yes and it's only going to get worse. For both of you." John pointed out.
"Get up."
"No. I got shot. I can lay where I want." I argued.
"Are you comfortable? I'm not. This carpet is horrible." Sherlock mumbled and John rolled his eyes.
"Both of you, up. Now." He ordered in his 'soldier' voice and I rolled my eyes.
"That's not-" I began and Sherlock sighed dramatically, sitting up.
"-going to work...?"
"Just do what he says, if you don't, he might get punch-y." Sherlock muttered, clearly not happy.
I sat up, looking at John, trying to figure out what he was thinking.
"Y/N?" He asked after a few moments, but I hadn't figured it out yet.
"Y/N, that's getting kinda scary now."
"Shh. Thinking." I mumbled, looking at him closer.
"About what?" He asked and I groaned.
"I was trying to deduce you, but my mind is... somewhere else." Sherlock helped me to my feet and I winced in pain.
"Am I interrupting?" I looked at Lestrade who was now next to John.
"No. I'm just trying to get these two idiots into bed, before either of them hurts themselves or Y/N bleeds out." John sighed.
"You wanna help?"
"Well, it can't be that hard, right?" Lestrade asked and Sherlock grinned at me suddenly, a mischievous look in his eyes.
Oh, these two had no idea how difficult their lives were about to get.
