Organised Chaos - Sherlock x Reader

LX • 60

I saw his finger move to the trigger, but I couldn't bring myself to shoot him first.
I figured now was the best time to die. You wouldn't have to know I'd ever come back.

I continued staring him down, my gun still raised but my finger well away from its trigger.
I wasn't sure if he'd actually do it.
And yet, in the millisecond it took for me to register that he'd pulled the trigger, I realised I'd been a haughty fool to come alone.

******
John's POV- Earlier:

I checked my phone again as I stepped to the kerb in Dublin.
I raised my hand, summoning a cab.
He was in Dalkey. I made a quick calculation in my head. It could take as long as half an hour to get there, and that was with fairly normal traffic.
I gnawed on my nails, hoping against all odds that I'd get there soon enough.
"Dalkey." I told the cabbie, my angst obvious in my voice. "Quick as you can." I added, as he pulled away from the kerb.

******

Sherlock's POV- Present:

Pain.
I felt pain.
I wouldn't feel pain if I was dead. I vaguely remembered a shout- my own shout I think- and the sound of impact, just before the bullet hit.
I lay on my back, which hurt enough, but the pain that had resulted from the beating I took in Germany was nothing in comparison to the burning pain in my abdomen.
I could see the slight outline of a person leaning over me, but I couldn't make out who. I closed my eyes again, squeezing them shut and willing the pain to cease.
My mind was a fuzz of the pain and the logic I was trying to use to overrule it. I struggled to lift my head, and only managed to see the blood before I was aware of loud sounds and bright lights.
I could feel pressure on the hole that had been ripped through my body when the bullet hit. I slowly came to the realisation that whoever was leaning over me was applying pressure to my wound, slowing the bleeding considerably.
I felt gratitude before I began slipping into unconsciousness. I willed my brain to keep me awake, but as the adrenaline wore off, the pain became ten times worse. It felt as though my stomach was being ripped open and stabbed with a fire poker that had just come off the embers over and over in the same spot.
I couldn't stay awake any longer. The pain overruled my head and my brain allowed me to slip into darkness.

It felt better now.

******

John's POV- Earlier:

I checked Sherlock's location again en route.
Wait.
That didn't make sense.
He was in the water. On the ocean.
That couldn't be possible- unless it was a boat. I hoped to God it wasn't a boat. I'd never get to him if he was on a boat.
It took a little under half an hour to get to Dalkey, and as soon as we did, I paid my fare and jumped out.
I checked my phone once again and as I followed the bleeping dot that was Sherlock's location, I realised I was getting closer to the harbour.
It brought me all the way to the pier and I walked along it until I was closest to his location.
I looked up and directly in front of me, a rickety old house boat was docked. It looked as though it hadn't been used in years. And yet, this was where the tracking device I had planted on Sherlock said he was.
I climbed on deck and looked around. Seeing the door, I stepped closer. One glance said that it had been opened recently.
The boat hadn't been used in years and yet the door had been opened quite recently. That could only mean that he was in there.
Or had been.
I opened the door and was met by total darkness.
What had compelled me to bring it in the first place I don't know, but I was thanking God I had a torch on my belt. I un-clipped it and shone it round the room. I couldn't see much, but the boat itself wasn't terribly large. I stepped in and began making my way through the rooms, using the torch as my guide.
With the help of the light, it didn't take me long to find the singular room that wasn't pitch dark.
I put my ear to the door.
Voices.
"But why her?"
That was Sherlock. I recognised his familiar voice immediately.
"Because you were dead. I really just wanted to kill you."
That was Sebastian. I knew that it was him.
I had to intervene. Without thinking twice, I burst in. Sebastian stood about three paces away and directly in front of me, his back turned.
Sherlock stood across from him, about seven paces from where I was.
"And now I can." Sebastian had been mid sentence when I had entered, his voice laced with revenge and anger.
Everything that happened next happened so quickly, it seemed surreal.
I lunged forward, my body colliding with Sebastian's. As I did, I heard Sherlock shout.
"John no!"
The moment I hit my target, the gun went off.
I scrambled up and grabbed the gun that Sebastian had dropped.
I saw him cowering on the floor, something I hadn't expected.
Suddenly unable to pull the trigger, I smacked the side of his head with the butt of the gun, and he fell to the ground, unconscious.
I fumbled with my phone for just a second, dialed 999, then ran to Sherlock's side, feeling sick. I'd seen this happen so many times, but this was my best friend. I kept telling myself I hadn't caused it, I'd kept it from being a shot to the head- but I still felt guilty.
He was conscious but his lucidity was questionable.
The bullet seemed to have barely missed his abdominal aorta, miraculously, and yet the bleeding was massive and there was still the possibility that he'd die.
He stared at nothing, his breathing rapid but laboured.
I pressed on the wound as hard as I could, willing him to stay awake.
He tried to lift his head but he was unable to keep it up. It fell back onto the floor, pain written all over his face.
I couldn't have him die. He'd been through so much, he couldn't die now. Once again, the ambulance seemed to take far longer than it should have.

Sherlock's POV:

When I woke up my brain registered two people leaning over me.
I'm still lying down.
My mind was still a fuzz, but I observed my surroundings the best I could.
The people above me were EMTs. Hospital? No, we were moving. Ambulance.
I was in an ambulance.
I had a mask over my mouth and nose, which I endeavoured to take off, but I couldn't move.
I tried to lift my head, but someone pushed it back down.
The area that the bullet had torn through had been numbed and just a dull throbbing remained where the unbearable burning pain had been.
I gave up trying to move, and slipped back into oblivion.