Sherlock Holmes One-Shots

Far Away

Song: Far Away

Artist(s): Nickelback

(Italicized/bold words = flashback)

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This time, this place

Misused, mistakes

Too long, too late

Who was I to make you wait?

Just one chance, just one breath

Just in case theirs just one left...

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Sherlock sat in the waiting room, his eyes staring blankly at the empty chairs surrounding him. He was lost, but not in thought, not in his Mind Palace, lost in an abyss of nothingness. No sight except the image of her broke body, no sound except the steady drum of his heartbeat. He closed his eyes, trying to rid his minds eye of these images. He pressed his hand over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. "Delete," he whispered. "Delete!"

"I have had it up to HERE with your complete bullshit!" Tracy shouted, grabbing her bag off the coffee table and heading for the door. "I can handle you correcting me at every turn, acting like a total dickhead when we're in public, but I will not stand for being made to feel stupid and foolish." She opened the door and wiped her face, angry at him and embarrassed that her tears were giving her away. "I would rather face this killer head on and alone than be hurt by you again and again." And with that, she exited the flat, slamming the door behind her...

"Mr. Holmes," a young woman wearing teal surgical scrubs and a matching cap came into the room. Sherlock shot to his feet, anxious for news. "We've removed the bullet and moved her to recovery." the woman said calmly. "But it was touch and go...she flat lined twice on the table." Sherlock nodded, remaining collective as much as he could.

The doctor gently touched his arm. "We are very lucky," she said. "Had you arrived a minute or two later, and I would be delivering very different news right now."

Sherlock stared blankly at the hallway behind the doctor. "May I see her," he asked, his voice low and steady. The woman nodded and lead him to the recovery suite.

She opened the door and admitted Sherlock. "Can I bring you anything?" She asked. "Tea?"

"Nothing." Sherlock cut in.

"Would you at least like a change of clothes? You shouldn't-"

"Leave now please," Sherlock said. The doctor nodded and closed the door, leaving Sherlock alone.

"She loves you, you know," John said, sitting across from Sherlock in his chair. Sherlock plucked at the strings of his violin, but faltered for a moment at the thought.

"I can't control her chemical reactions to a mere prospect of-"

"Oh piss off," John said, leaning forward sternly. "She loves you and I know-better than anyone-that you are not a machine, you are capable of caring for someone and I know you care for her, but as your friend I have to tell you; she won't be around forever Sherlock. One day you're going to wake up, and you'll have lost her. So shape up, or get out of the race."

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On my knees, I'll ask

Last chance for one last dance

'Cause with you, I'd withstand

All of hell to hold your hand