Just Flatmates {Johnlock Oneshots}

His Last Bow

Warning: angst
This is just an au because I am in a mood and you need some angst. This takes place after Mary shoots Sherlock...

John sat on his knees beside Sherlock's hospital bed. He was going to die. The doctors did everything they could to try and bring Sherlock back. His heart had stopped after the bullet pierced his torso. It was beating again. But it wasn't going to last long. John had been there for two hours and was planning on staying by his side all night.
'Sherlock,' John whispered. 'I can't lose you again. You can't do this to me again. Please. Stay alive. For me.'
Sherlock's eyelids twitched. His mouth opened slightly. 'John...' he said softly.
'Sherlock,' John gasped. 'Sherlock, save your energy.'
'John,' Sherlock weakly replied as his eyes fluttered open. 'Mary.'
'Mary isn't here,' John shook his head. 'Do you want me to get her?'
'Don't,' Sherlock cringed at the pain. 'John, I...'
'Shh,' John silenced him. 'Don't speak.' Sherlock moved his hand closer to John and opened it.
John felt like screaming at him. He wanted to yell at him to save his energy. He wanted to shout at Sherlock for never listening to him. But he didn't. He let his hand wrap around Sherlock's. John held back tears. He didn't want Sherlock to see him cry. A smile formed at the corners of Sherlock's mouth. He closed his eyes.
'I love you,' were the last words Sherlock spoke before his hand went limp. The short beeps of a machine became one long, electronic cry.
'Sherlock,' John urged. 'Sherlock, please don't be dead. Please.' He let his tears fall, squeezing Sherlock's cold, pale hand as nurses and doctors flooded the room.

John covered his mouth and clutched his stomach as if he were going to be sick. A hand rested gently on his tensed shoulder.
Mary.
     'John, what's happened?' Mary asked. 'Is he going to be alright? I got here as quick as I could.'
     'You're too late,' John replied weakly. 'He's gone.'
His words struck Mary cold. 'What do you mean?'
'I mean he's dead,' John shivered as the words spilled from his mouth.
Mary's mind raced. She had calculated every detail. How did she possibly screw up? John sat up in the chair. His knuckles became bone-white as he remembered what Sherlock had said.
'Mary,' John hissed under his breath.
     'What?' Mary cluelessly asked.
     'He said your name,' John almost growled.
     Mary began to worry. I told him not to tell you, she thought. 'Why would he say that?'
     John leaned back and stared at Mary with a fake smile. 'You tell me.'
     'Hell if I know,' Mary shrugged.
     'I may not be as clever as him, but I'm not a complete idiot,' John snapped.
     Mary rolled her eyes.
     'So tell me,' John leaned forward in the chair. 'Sherlock was dying and decided to say your name when I told him to save his energy. That's a little suspicious if you ask me. Oh! And the doctors told me your name was the first thing he said when he came to.'
     'That could mean anything,' Mary replied. 'I have no idea what you're talking about.'
     'Mary,' John grumbled.
     'What?' Mary shouted.
     John didn't say a word. He only stared blankly at his wife. His pregnant wife. 'My best friend is dead,' he choked. 'And if you did this, I–.' He couldn't continue. John couldn't bare his thoughts.
     If Mary did kill Sherlock, then Mary would have hell to pay.