A/N TRIGGER WARNING Attempted suicide. Edited 01/06/16
SHERLOCKS POV
"Stay with me Sherlock!" I could hear John shouting at me. His concerned voice was cutting through the fog that filled my mind. I could faintly hear other people talking, bags being unzipped and machines being turned on. John was holding my hand, his warmth cutting through the cold that was taking over my body.
'He must be covered in blood' I thought as I felt his hand being ripped from mine.
"I'm right here Sherlock! Hang on!" He wasn't supposed to find me. That wasn't the plan. He was never supposed to find out. Mycroft promised. John was supposed to live his life with Mary, assuming I had gone on some mission for Mycroft.
"I'm so sorry John." I whispered as I felt my mind fade to blackness.
JOHNS POV
"I'm so sorry John." Sherlock's words echoed through my mind as I sat in the waiting room of the hospital. They had taken him into surgery, hoping to repair the slashed veins. Why would he do this?
"John?" I looked up to see Mary standing in front of me, concern in her eyes. "John what happened? Are you hurt?" Why would she ask that? I looked down and saw the blood staining my hands and shirt.
I was covered in Sherlock's blood.
I shook my head.
"Thank god. What happened?" Why does she care? She doesn't really care about him does she?
"Sherlock-" my voice cracked as I spoke. "He tried to-" I can't say it. "He cut his-" If I don't say it, it isn't real.
"John." She figured it out. "Why would he do that?" That was the question that had been pounding through my head since I found him.
"I don't know." She hugged me, but it felt wrong. I never felt that spark with her that I felt when I touched Sherlock. My mind floated back to a few weeks ago, when we had kissed. We had been drinking and it just kind of happened. It felt so right. If Mary hadn't been pregnant I would have left her on the spot. But I grew up without both parents. And I wouldn't make my child live like that. I told him that we could never be together; that I wouldn't leave Mary.
"John?" A new voice pulled me from my thoughts. I looked up to see Mycroft standing there. He looked older than I had ever seen him look before. His eyes were red, almost as though he had been crying.
"Hello Mycroft." We didn't speak for a while. There really wasn't much to say.
"John I need to tell you something." He glared at Mary. "Privately, Mrs. Watson, if you don't mind." I opened my mouth to object but Mary nodded and walked away before I could.
"What Mycroft? What is so important?" I snapped. The man I love was dying and Mycroft wanted to chat.
"Thank you for finding him." What? Mycroft was thanking me? I looked up at him in shock. Tears were running down his face as he crumbled before me. "He didn't want you to find out. He wanted me to tell you he had gone on some mission for me." He knew. Sherlock had told him.
"Why?" I whispered, voice cracking once again.
"I'm sorry?"
"Why would he do this? Why did he want to die?"
"He didn't want to hurt you anymore."
"Hurt me? How does he think he was hurting me?"
"I don't know John. He wouldn't tell me. He was convinced that this was for the best."
