The Gay Is On (Johnlock)

Chapter 18

John dropped to the ground.

Sherlock, in a frenzy, grabbed John's gun out of his pocket and started shooting, missing both of the men and instead showering the roof of the old building with bullets.

Moriarty laughed. "Not too good of an aim, are you, Sherlock? Unfortunately for you, Mike is." he said, gesturing over to the man with the gun.

Barely had he spoken the words when all of the sudden, the roof collapsed. The building completely caved it, no doubt killing both of the bad men instantly. Then, silence engulfed the abandoned neighborhood.

Sherlock had extremely good aim. He knew exactly how many bullets it would take to completely demolish the structure of a burned and depleted building. It was quite...elementary.

Sherlock didn't have time to think about all of this, though. He dropped to the ground, looking at John. His dear John had already passed out, his face colorless and a dark pool seeping out of his chest to the ground beneath him. Sherlock took off his coat and ripped part of his suit off, wrapped it around John, and tied it tightly as a makeshift tourniquet. The sound of the collapsed building had aroused some people from other neighborhoods, and fortunately, an ambulance.

Sherlock frantically grabbed his coat and picked up John easily. He dashed over to the ambulance and yelled "Help! A man's been shot!"

John was quickly loaded onto a gurney and transported to the hospital, Sherlock beside him, holding his hand.

{Time Lapse}

John's eyes flew open.

He had no idea where he was. All he knew was that he was in very much pain. He cried out, his voice forming the word "Sherlock", as large tears rolled uncontrollably down his face. He felt as if he was being stabbed over and over in his heart.

Then, a warm, large hand touched his forehead, bringing him out of his pain-induced nightmare for a moment.

His dark, raven colored curls. His high, sharp cheekbones and pointed jawline. Those beautiful, blue-green eyes, although right now, they were full of concern. It was Sherlock, his Sherlock.

"I love you", John whispered, his body still pulsing with pain. Every heartbeat hurt. Every breath was ragged and painful. But there was no pain he wouldn't endure as long as Sherlock was by his side.

"I love you too, John," Sherlock said, his voice breaking. John smiled as the world went black for the second time.

[That sounds like he died. He didn't die, don't worry. I'm not that cruel.]

John awoke again after a period of about three hours. He was more alert this time. He was in a hospital bed from a gunshot wound to the chest, which was throbbing. He had an IV in his right hand that was probably distributing morphine to his body. To his left, thankfully, was Sherlock.

Sherlock was still crying.

John looked at Sherlock with concern. "Sherlock, what's wrong?"

"You're in a hospital bed, John."

"I know, but I'm alive."

"You weren't for a minute."

John's eyes grew wide. "You mean..?"

"Yes, John. About an hour ago your heart stopped. The EKG showed a straight line. I yelled and some doctors came and used the defibrillators to revive you. You scared the hell out of me." Sherlock broke down fully, crying his eyes out in big, gasping sobs.

John saw how Sherlock was so broken, much like he'd been the day Sherlock died. Using the remote attached to the hospital bed, he raised the head of his bed. He then reached out his arms.

Sherlock got up from his chair at John's bedside and hugged him ever so gently, but with more emotion than he'd ever hugged John with before. John pulled him away and cupped Sherlock's face in his hands. He kissed away Sherlock's tears gently. "Don't cry." He said. "Please don't cry."

Sherlock, with a newfound strength, hungrily pressed his lips to John. John's arms slowly raised to rest around Sherlock's neck, his hands entangled in the detective's hair. They kissed, stopped for breath, and kissed again, over and over. Sherlock's tongue forced its way into John's mouth, making him moan with pleasure. Meanwhile, John's hands had moved from Sherlock's hair down his chest, feeling every muscle contracting and every hard bone and curve in Sherlock's body.

They started kissing faster, John forgetting about the pain in his chest for the meantime. Sherlock couldn't stop himself and his hand went instinctively to John's trousers.

John's member went hard as soon as Sherlock touched it, but he gently pushed his hand away. "Not now, Sherlock. Later," he said, breaking the kiss.

Sherlock whispered "I'm sorry, I just was caught up in the moment. I just want to kiss you forever."

"How would we ever get any work done?" John asked teasingly.

"Oh, we would," Sherlock said in The Voice. "Just not the kind of work you're thinking of."

John giggled like a schoolgirl and patted the empty space beside him. Sherlock laid next to him, and they held hands, not saying a word for hours. It was fine with both of them.

"Will you stay with me forever?" Sherlock mumbled after a while.

"Only if you promise to stay with me forever." John replied.

"I promise. I love you so much, you do know that, right?"

John smiled. "No shit, Sherlock."

(A/N: THE ENDDDDD! I sincerely hope you enjoyed this. I worked so hard on it, so, could you maybe rate and suggest ideas for another fanfic? THANK YOU, I LOVE YOU, AND FAREWELL. xx)