Data Doesn't Lie (Johnlock)

Chapter 2

SHERLOCK

I awoke in a cold sweat, which was very unusual for me but was becoming more and more frequent. What an awful dream that had been, and to think I remembered it so vividly.

I was on the roof of St.Barts hospital, running across the wide rooftop to see Moriarty. In front of him was John, waiting patiently in a wooden dining chair. I wouldn't have been as worried, until I saw that he had a gun to his head. I quickened my pace, but it seemed that the faster I ran, the further from John I became. It felt like hours before I could see his face, but my relief was short-lived as I heard that haunting nightmare-fuel of a laugh from Moriarty. I was about to tell him to shut up when I realized that the person holding the gun to John's head was John himself. I called out to him, I lunged for the gun, I told him that I was here and alive, but it was no use. I woke to the sound of a bang, snapping upright in my borrowed bed. My breathing was heavy as i tried to regain stability.

My hand instinctively reached up to touch my face, which was wet. How odd. How unlike me to cry. To care.

I knew I wasn't going to be able to fall back to sleep, not with this horribly stuffy atmosphere. I peered around in the dark room I had been staying in. The house had long since been abandoned, so at first I'd presumed it would be simple to stay here. That was until I realized there was no heating, no running water, and everything inside the house was either uncomfortable or smelled terribly of damp cloth. But a home was a home, nonetheless, even if temporary.

I absent-mindedly reached out for my mobile that resided on the beside table, wincing at the sudden light that filled the pitch black room. I hadn't bothered with it for days now, leaving the remainder of my plan to rid of Moriarty's network end in silence, to offer myself a moment of what could hardly register as peace. I only checked my mobile now out of the boredom that had plagued my mind for the past few days. I squinted my eyes against the harsh light, regretting turning the phone on at all. I opened up my message center, and I'll admit I was surprised when I read the screen. "23 new" the screen read. My eyebrows disappeared into my mess of hair as I realized that the majority of the messages were from my brother Mycroft, the remainder being from Molly. How ironic it was that all the recent ones displayed the exact same message. I opened Mycroft's messages, a slow sinking feeling washing over me as I read over the texts. The last few were all I read, but my dread was confirmed almost instantly.

I suggest you hurry with your work, brother dear. I'm becoming worried for John's health.

-MH

He misses you terribly, you know

-MH

Not to be a bother, but you might want to revise your return, brother mine. There seems to have been an accident.

-MH

If you would please respond, it's urgent.

-MH

I scanned over the messages a few times, unsure what to think of them before I finally typed my response.

What do you want?

-SH

I wasn't surprised that he was  awake even at this early morning hour. He responded within the minute.

Quite rude of you to greet me in such a fashion after I've been helping you all this time

-MH

Spit it out prat

-SH

Alright brother dear. I'm sorry to inform you John Watson has been shot. He's alive, but barely. He should survive, though. Just thought you should know.