Eastern Winds (JohnLock)

Chapter 26 - Doctor, Doctor

Sherlock's P.O.V;

Of course. It hadn't been the impact of the bullet which had sent me crashing to the ground, it had been the force of John throwing himself into me. He had pushed me out of the firing line and by doing so he had put himself into it. I scrambled to his side trying to collect my thoughts, keep cool, but I couldn't. I just could not. My eyes surveyed his body, searching for the wound. It wasn't hard to find. It was on his chest, just below his first bullet wound located on his shoulder, blood was seaping through his jumper and it wasn't stopping.

I kept choking on the words that wouldn't come out. I finally managed a few. "John. What Do I- How Do I- Please, help." I could feel the threat of tears but I had to hold it together for my John.

"Sherlock, Scarf. Now. Apply pressure to it, you remeber..." In one fluid motion I had removed my scarf and was using it to press down on the right hand side of my lovers chest.

"Of course I remember Bambridge John, I fall in love with you even more watching you save lives. But I need you to save your own right now. Please John." His hands had found their way to rest on top of my own, the feel of his now-clamy skin didn't calm me. Nothing could, I could see the colour draining from his face at a rapid rate. I could see his lips moving too, I knew he was speaking to me but all I can hear my own heartbeat, my head is due to explode any minute.

"Ok, don't stop pushing, I'll be unconcious soon." His voice was becoming hoarse and it was barely a whisper. "I love you Sherlock. I love you. It's your turn to play doctor." He choked out a final I love you before his breathing became so ragged that he could no longer speak.

"I love you too, John."     "Thankyou for being my Doctor."    "I love you. Don't go."    "I need my blogger."

I continued to whisper into his ear. Peppering soft kisses over his cheeks, removing the traces of his tears as he slowly slipped into unconciousness before me. I too was crying, my pain wasn't physical but I wished it could be. I would give anything to switch places with him. I couldn't think anymore, I felt my senses slowly shutting down along with myself.

Why must I always put the one man worth a thousand of me in danger? The one man I love, could die.

_____

It couldn't have been longer than a minute before the paramedics switched places with me. They planned to remove me from his side to ride in a different ambulance so that they could check my concussion from when my head had hit the floor. However, Mycroft had told them otherwise. I sat beside my John as the sirens roared. I held his hand in my own, the only thing I could focus on was him. My body was shut down, I was living but unresponsive. I just ran my thumb back and forth over his knuckles studying John's face like I had so many times before. This could be the last time I do.

_____

John was taken straight to theatre and I had no choice but to sit in the 'relatives room' and wait. I sat in the small room that smelt like damp and cheap disinfectant on an extremely uncomfortable chair. I wept. I wept for the 11 hours that the surgeons worked for. I tried to focus on the memories, the smiles, the kisses, the dinners. I tried to focus on the feel of his touch and the smell of his shampoo but I couldn't. All I could think about was his life hanging by a thread in an operating theatre just down the hall. All I could think about was how badly John needed me now more than ever and all I could do was sit and hope for the best. But Oh God, I expected the worst.

Mrs Hudson soon arrived, after taking one look at my tear stained face which mirrored her own she threw her arms around me and we wept together. I cradled her as though she was my mother while her body was racked with sobs. It took us a while to compose ourselves but our silent tears never did stop falling. It was about 7 hours into the surgery that I decided to finally draw my eyes away from the carpet below my feet only to discover the room was full of hopeful individuals. There was myself, Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft, Lestrade, Molly Hooper, Mike Stamford and to my suprise both Anderson and Donovan. Steadying my breaths I risked a glance in my brothers direction. Immediatley our gazes were locked, he had his hand on Greg's knee while using the other to drum a rythem on his own lap. Greg had rested his head on Mycrofts shoulder as he drifted in and out of his slumber and his own hands laid atop of my brothers. I couldn't smile, not at a time such as this, so I merely nodded at approval in my brother's direction. He knew I wished to congratulate him on finding himself the equivilant of John but that right now I could not. Now that I was begining to become aware of my surroundings rather than solely concentrating on the thoughts I had of John people muttered their sincerest apologies while some slept, some cried and some sat and chatted as though the man we were all in this room for wasn't close to death.

Eleven Hours. Eleven of the most painful hours of my existance had passed until the nurse still dressed in her scrubs burst through the door. I wasn't aware that I had strode across the room so that my face was inches from her own until I could smell her perfume.

"He's stable. We've managed to remove all of the shrapnel from his chest. He's going to recover and He'll be as good as new in no time."

I sighed. It was a sigh of relif. My Doctor wasn't leaving me, and I was never leaving him again. "Please. Can I see him?"

"Of course, please follow me."