Checkmate

Chapter 17: Panic

"Moran! God dammit man! Drive faster!" John roars. "I fucking can't or I'll crash and get us all killed!" Seb snarls, "Hang on!" Seb takes a very sharp and very illegal turn. When the car levels out, John starts doing CPR. "I'm losing him." John's voice is tinged with panic as he pumps Sherlock's chest with his hands. "Come on Sherlock. Stay with us. Stay with me. I need another miracle. Please, you can't do this to me. You can't do this to us. Come on, you asshole. Come on to insufferable twat. Live! Dammit, Sherlock!" John is yelling through tears as he slams Sherlock's chest for a pulse.  Seb takes his pain in silence. Driving furiously they finally reach the hospital. "John! We're here!" Seb parks in front of the entrance and quickly runs into get help. John continues to work on Sherlock, cursing and praying that the detective would respond.

Seb comes with the staff, throwing open the back door of the van. "He's alive. I got him breathing again." John is crying with relief, but the battle is not over yet. John moves out of the way so the other doctors and nurses can rush Sherlock off to the critical care unit. Seb and John both watch helplessly as the person they love gets wheeled away. It hits Seb like a bag of bricks that Sherlock's actions had saved his life. "Fucking idiot. " Seb growls, "John get inside. I'll park the car. "

John looks down at himself, he's covered to his elbows with Sherlock's blood with his efforts to save the detective's life. "Mind grabbing my change of clothing from the back, Moran?" John asks quietly. Seb nods and goes to the back and grabs the change. He hands it off to John. John takes it and goes into the bathroom to change. He washes the gore off his hands and as much as he can off his skin with the use of paper towels. That done, John gets some coffee and sits in the waiting room.  Seb pads in and plops down beside John. "Thank you." Seb mumbles. "For what?"You saved his life." John nods in acknowledgement. "It's my job. "Seb nods, but John can tell that he has earned the man's loyalty. Saving the life of the person one loves most will do that to anyone. "I am glad you came with us." Seb says quietly. John nods again and takes a drink of his coffee.

"You know.... I dunno what I would have done hadn't Sherlock stepped in. I suppose I would be dead several times over now." Seb smiles slightly.

John laughs slightly, "At least I would've gotten the manor. "Seb is looking at John. "You know we are very similar. Both affected by both consultant among other things ." "Yes. We are. " John shrugs, "So?""So...I dunno... Just thinking outloud to cover my worry for that twat they are operating on." Seb groans. John nudges Seb, "In my professional opinion he should make it through. ""He had better. He can't die. The idiot can't even kill himself." Seb's face pales as he realizes what came out of his mouth. Despite that, John is understanding, knowing that Seb is tired and worried. "Do...you want to talk? About what happened....?" Seb ventures. "What do you mean?" John cocks his head slightly. "Jim. Sherlock. Everything." "I...suppose now is as good a time as any. " John sighs. "I would say that you and I share something few do. Being companions to both consultants. Although I much prefer Sherlock." "Agreed. Much less testy. And violent. ""Tell me about it. You...only got a short dose of Jim. Me? A full decade of power plays. Of violence. Of sadistic games of cat and mouse. And the worst thing is that he made us both think we deserved it....and conditioned us to like it. How messed up is that?" "Pretty fucked up. Though towards the end I finally woke up. Then I became a punching bag. ""You helped us....you helped distract Jim. God, I am so sorry." "You shouldn't be. ""I am because i can empathize with you. I know what it's like to be Jim's plaything. I know what's it's like to be haunted by Jim's touch." "All three of us do. Though in different ways and longer periods. ""I forgive you John. I forgive you for what you put Sherlock through. We need to stick together, it keeps us sane in our insane world.""Again I agree with you Seb. " John was still keeping himself closed off. Seb is looking at John, he can tell that John has more to say. Seb isn't going to push it, he respect's the other man's discretion.

The doctor comes out. "Gentlemen, Holmes has been stabilized. You can see him but he's in a medically induced coma." The doctor says. Instantly both men are on their feet and walking to the room. Seb nearly loses what little food is in his system at the sight. Sherlock is breathing on his own, but he looks dead. Eyes closed, skin slightly grey without any color, the only sign of life was the blip of the machines and the barely perceptible rise and fall of the detective's chest.

"Oh my god...." Seb sinks into a chair, looking at Sherlock with more emotion then John has ever seen on the sniper's face. John stands by Seb and clasps his shoulder, gently squeezing.  John sees that the doctor's couldn't remove Seb's tags from Sherlock. Even nearly dying, Sherlock has the tags coiled around his hand and wrist, clinging to them like a lifeline. A reminder for the detective of who he took a bullet for.

"Jesus..." Seb mutters and rubs his face. John plops down in the other chair, his walls coming down as well. John watches Seb as his walls peel back. It was sadly interesting that this is what it had took to show the true Seb. Sherlock always saw this version of Seb, the gentle kitten under the layers of scars and pain.  

"He looks so small... When he's awake he's personality and life fills the room. It's so strange to see someone so alive and vibrant reduced to a shell of himself....the fragility of genius...." John chokes. Seb looks over at John shocked that he was breaking too. John is crying silently. Seb digs through his pockets searching for something. A small handful of peppermints. He quickly grabs one and pops it into his mouth. "John."

John looks at Seb with red rimmed eyes. "What is it Moran?" John asks. "I know these help me...Do you want one?" It was an oddly sweet gesture. John shakes his head no, anything in his mouth would taste like ash.

Eventually the doctor comes in to shoo them out for the night, promising that he would call if Sherlock's condition changes for any reason. John goes to fetch the car to take him and Seb back to the manor for a much needed shower and sleep.

Seb pads into his and Sherlock's room, hair still damp. He crawls into the enormous bed, suddenly feeling very alone. Sherlock's absence was a hole, a gaping wound in Seb, like he was the one who had been shot. Seb flops down onto the bed and hugs Sherlock's pillow to his chest and burying his face into it. Sherlock's smell still lingered to the fabric. Old books, clean linens, coffee, and a hint of tobacco smoke.  It helped Seb calm his nerves, he had almost always felt safe around Sherlock.

It's in the wee early hours of the morning do Seb and John get the awaited phone call. Sherlock had come out of the coma, at last.