The Game Is On (Johnlock)

Just A Magic Trick

Inspired by Pinterest photo above.

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The gunshot was ringing in his ears. He kept pressing against the wound in John's stomach, trying to staunch the heavy flow of blood that poured out. His fingers were sticky and coated in the metallic of John's blood. "Sherlock," moaned John as he held onto the last shred of consciousness that he had. Tears started falling as Sherlock worked frantically to keep John awake and breathing, no matter how shallowly.

John's head rolled to the side and his eyes closed. Sherlock started doing CPR when he realized that John had stopped breathing entirely. "No, no, no. C'mon, John. Breathe. Please!" He gave one last futile attempt at getting his heart started again. Sherlock took a deep breath and pressed his lips against John's. He hated it. It shouldn't be like this. Maybe after some drinks or after a particularly hard case, but not in an abandoned warehouse to keep John alive.

John's lips were tacky with blood and tasted like copper pennies. "Please, John," he cried. "I need you. Please. Stay with me. Please." Tears fell on John's face, creating streaks in the blood spattered across his cheeks. A ragged breath left John and Sherlock half laughed, half cried at the sound of it. "Sherlock, what . . . what are you doing?" John's voice was nothing but a whisper of a rasp and Sherlock nearly kissed him again for it.

"I was trying to keep you alive, you idiot." John laughed, a heart-wrenching sound, as there was a gurgle in the background of his beautiful laugh. Sherlock deduced that while John was still alive, it was only just barely. John was staring up at Sherlock with his blue-grey eyes, causing more tears to fall from Sherlock's green eyes. "Oh, John. Don't go, okay? I- we need you here," Sherlock's voice cracked as he whispered to John.

John's eyes widened as a shadow cloaked both him and Sherlock in darkness. "Sherlock!" John shouted as an arm swung down and struck Sherlock in the head. A loud cracking sound echoed through the warehouse as Sherlock's body hit the ground beside John. The silhouette of the person stood over the both of them and John reached for Sherlock's hand to pull them back away from them.

It shouldn't be like this, thought John. Sherlock's hand was sticky and warm from John's blood, but John wouldn't have it any other way. He'd just rather have it happen in some other time, some other place, for some other reason. Not like this. He pushed them back with his feet, struggling to keep moving. Pain shot up his spine as his back scraped against the cement ground. "We can do this. C'mon. We've got this. We'll be back at Baker Street in no time, with Mrs. Hudson bringing us tea. Right? We'll be home in no time." John kept whispering this as he shoved his body weight back toward the warehouse wall.

John tightened his grip on Sherlock's hand and was relieved to feel Sherlock squeeze back gently. Oh, thank God, thought John. You're still alive. Please stay alive just a little while longer, Sherlock. I'll get us home. I'll get us help. Don't give up yet. Please, Sherlock. John caught Sherlock's eye and gave the smallest of smiles. Sherlock looked at his lips briefly, then glanced up at John's eyes. They crinkled at the corners in a smile and caused John to laugh, uncovering just how much emotion was in the situation. His laugh was shaky, and thick with tears.

Sherlock started kicking his feet against the ground, propelling them faster. John worked faster, using his free hand to push them along, too. A strip of moonlight through the broken roof cast light upon their attacker, making both John and Sherlock pant. "Who are you? What do you want from us?!" John kept pushing them back, but Sherlock stopped. "John, go! I'll hold him off. Just go!" Sherlock tried to shake his hand free of John's, but John wouldn't let go.

"Remember that one case we had? With The Woman? She said that someone loves you. Well, she wasn't wrong. You wanna know who it is?" John's voice cracked and he began crying harder. Sherlock nodded weakly. "I do, John." John laughed, a bitterly sad laugh. "It was me. It was always me." Sherlock looked at John, finally turning away from their attacker. "I know, John. I've always known."

John stared back at Sherlock, tears still falling down his cheeks. "Molly knew the truth. She told me that I looked sad when I thought you couldn't see me. I thought alone was all that I had. I thought it would protect me. I thought I was being clever. But I realized after she told me, friends are what protect people. I heard you, you know. At my grave. You asked me to stop being dead. You asked me to give you one more miracle, to stop being dead. I wanted to tell you so badly that your miracle wasn't just a wish. But, I couldn't. I had to protect you. I needed to protect you. You told the grave-marker that you were so alone and that you owed me so much. I owe so much. You showed me that I have a heart, no matter what other people say about me. you showed me by getting married to Mary. My heart broke that night. I left the wedding. I wanted you to be happy. And I approved of her. And then my heart broke again when she shot me and betrayed you. I was so heart-broken that she hurt you. When she died . . . .God, I wanted to kill somebody. I almost did. Myself. It was me that bullet was for. She jumped in front of it to save me. I should have died. But, she did instead. And that hurt you. Molly was right. I do look sad when I think you can't see me. It's because I love you. I know that if I love you, you become a target. I couldn't do that to you. I still can't. So, please, John. Go. I'll keep them occupied. Save yourself. We're going down in an earlier round. But I want you to be safe. I love you, John Watson. Good-bye, John."

John finally let go of Sherlock's hand. "I still believe in you. You're a hero, you know. You saved me so many times. William Sherlock Scott Holmes, I love you." Sherlock tugged John to him and kissed him hard, then shoved him away. "Go, John." He nodded and started moving back toward the wall. A hand pressed to his stomach, John left his eyes on Sherlock as he pushed himself to safety. He reached the hidden door that none of them had noticed. Slapping at it to open, John looked back at Sherlock one last time. A gun glinted in the moonlight. "I don't want to die," mouthed Sherlock.

A gunshot pierced the air, making John flinch. But not before he heard Sherlock's voice once more. "It's a magic trick. It's just a magic trick, John."

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I look forward to taking you all on a journey throughout the lives of John and Sherlock. I know that this first one is a little angsty, but you'll have to expect that after the Reichenbach Falls. I love you guys.

and_here_you_are xoxo