Just Flatmates {Johnlock Oneshots}

Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation

His heart stopped. Sherlock's heart stopped beating. It stopped pumping blood to the rest of his body. During a case, Sherlock had suddenly gone into cardiac arrest. Immediately, the doctor fell to his knees, checking the scene.
'Sherlock!' John shouted. 'Sherlock, wake up! Are you okay?'
Silence.
'Greg, call an ambulance!' John ordered Inspector Lestrade. 'Sherlock.'
Lestrade pulled out his phone at phone, dialling for an ambulance.
John pat Sherlock's cheek rapidly, trying to wake him up. 'Sherlock, please,' he whispered. When he received no response, John pulled Sherlock's shirt open, a few buttons scattering across the floor. John nervously watched Sherlock's chest, hoping he would see it rise and fall. But there was no movement.
'He isn't breathing,' John sighed. He began doing compressions on Sherlock.
Lestrade held his phone. 'They want to speak to you,' he said.
John ignored Lestrade and continue counting his compressions until he reached thirty. He leaned over, pinching Sherlock's nose and tilting his head back. John took a deep breath and let in out when his lips touched Sherlock's. He looked out the corner of his eye to make sure the breaths caused Sherlock's chest to rise. He repeated this process once more, then continued his compressions.
'John, the—!'
'Tell them I'm a bloody doctor!' John shouted with frustration.
Lestrade was too intimidated to argue and put the phone back up to his ear.
This time between breaths, John whispered, 'Come on, Sherlock.' Despite the burning in his arms after the first three sets of CPR, John didn't even think about letting someone else try to get Sherlock back. The adrenaline rushed through his blood. He couldn't let Sherlock die. He couldn't.
     'Sherlock, please,' John ordered through clenched teeth.
     'Do you want me to take over?' Lestrade offered.
     'No!' John resumed his compressions. He didn't stop. Each second he hesitated was one second closer to Sherlock's death.
     'John, you're going to work yourself too hard, let me take over, please,' Lestrade tried to persuade.
     John ignored him again. He counted the compressions out loud. John leaned over to give Sherlock two more breaths. In the middle of the second breath, Sherlock regained consciousness.
     'Oh my god,' John cried. 'Oh my god, Sherlock.'
     'Thank goodness,' Lestrade mumbled.
     John realised Sherlock was going to vomit. He helped Sherlock turn on his side so that he wouldn't choke. Relieved, John sighed as he rubbed Sherlock's back softly. His arms felt like they were on fire. He was exhausted. When Sherlock had finished, John laid him back on his back.
     'You stupid cock!' John scolded. 'How many times have I told you to stop the drugs? How did you even get any! Your heart stopped, Sherlock! You were dead!' John took a deep breath. 'Thank god you're alive.'
     'John,' he whispered with his eyes closed.
     'Yeah?' John said calmly.
     'You're crying,' Sherlock said weakly.
     John reached up to his face and felt his wet cheeks. He was crying. When he realised it, he couldn't control it. He kept sobbing.
     'It's okay,' Sherlock forced a smile and opened his eyes slightly.
     John leaned over as if to give Sherlock a breath. Still crying, John's lips touched Sherlock's and kissed him. He pulled away after a tear fell onto Sherlock's face.
     'Sherlock, I can't lose you,' John continued sobbing. 'Not again.'
     Sherlock reached up with the little strength he had and lightly stroked John's hair.
     John leaned down and kissed Sherlock again. 'You idiot,' he whispered.
     Sherlock tried to laugh. John remained over Sherlock with his arms around him until the ambulance finally showed up to take care of Sherlock.
     'Thank you,' Sherlock said.
     'Shut up,' John replied. 'I wouldn't save an ignorant arsehole like you unless I really loved you.'
     'But you saved me.'
     John kissed Sherlock's forehead. 'I know.'