Mrs. Holmes [Book III]

A Rock and a Hard Place

Sherlock of course followed John all the way to the operating theater before the doctors and a guard forced him from John's side. About that time Mycroft texted him that Susanna was arriving -the umbrella wielding brother having accompanied her- and Sherlock could barely find the courage to meet them. But he found himself waiting as they rolled her in, Mycroft following.

Sherlock jolted and grasped her hand tightly. She was still warm, barely, and her skin was bluish gray. John had only turned blank white. Cyanosis. Low oxygen saturation because of blood loss. Sherlock clenched his other hand tightly, "Susanna... " He whimpered.

He managed to keep pace until the operating theater, not letting go of her hand. He couldn't speak, but gave her hand three tight squeezes to communicate his message. He again had to be forcibly separated from her. This time Mycroft had to pull him away and once Susanna was gone as well, Sherlock reached up and pulled at his hair, "Mycroft, they don't deserve this!" He hissed, "William and Rosie don't deserve this either! And yet I knew our time of bliss would be interrupted! Why did it have to be this!!??"

"Sherlock, I have the best surgeons and care staff attending to all the patients, especially Susanna and John." Sherlock turned his head and stared his elder brother down. His eyes were rimmed and shot with red, bringing out the blue of his irises in a way that made him look as lost and distressed as he felt.

"Will they make it through, Mycroft?" Sherlock probed. Mycroft pursed his lips and inhaled, "Now! Tell me, Mycroft! Will they live!?!"

"Sherlock-"

"Please, Mycroft! You are never wrong-!"

"I have been wrong before and you of all people know that better than anyone else, Sherlock!" Mycroft snapped back, "I will not give you false hope, nor will I give you false despair. Now we are going to find where Susanna and John are going to be admitted and you are going to calm down. Fretting will not help them. I will make the appropriate calls. Come along." He gripped Sherlock's arm and propelled him down the hallway and into the waiting lounge. It was empty for the moment -a rare mercy for Sherlock. He didn't feel like sitting in one of the chairs. So he backed up against one of the walls and then noticed he'd slid down to sit on the floor. He buried his head in his arms.

"Control... Control... Control..," He repeated to himself. Mycroft is right. I need to stay calm. Yet the detective couldn't summon such calmness as was typical of him during times of chaos. Mycroft watched Sherlock with a heavy frown as he started making calls as his younger brother started shaking, "Control!" He stated louder but that didn't help either.

Sherlock couldn't even enter his mind palace to escape. His thoughts were with the two people who he relied upon more than anything or anyone else, and whom he was certain could not live without, who were possibly on their deathbeds and wouldn't survive. Rosie lost Mary. She can't lose John too. William can't experience the same tragedy of losing Susanna.

Sherlock's phone was abuzz. So much so that he took it out and chucked it deliberately across the waiting room. It hit the wall with an intense cracking noise and Mycroft exhaled, "Sherlock, Molly, Brooklyn and the children are being moved to the Trowbridge home for their security. They are safe. Susanna's family has been informed. The two gunmen are in their operations. Leg shots, mostly, I deduce from Susanna. I have arranged for their immediate transport to high security when they are satisfactorily stable."

"Who are they?"

"For the moment we don't know."

Sherlock growled, "Ordinary justice is too good for them, Mycroft."

"I know."

"If the last thing I do is settle the score-"

"Sherlock, later. You will have your opportunity soon enough."

"They'll pay. Just like Magnussen did," Mycroft clenched his jaw. Sherlock was without a doubt angry- indeed fiercely wroth- at not only the shooters but at himself, "They won't get away with this, Blood."

"They won't and of that I can assure you," It fell silent again and Mycroft sighed before reaching down and placing his hand on Sherlock's rigid shoulder, "Sherlock, I will always be there for you."

"I won't be able to handle it, Mycroft. If they both die, or even one, I couldn't do it."

"Yes you could-"

"NO I COULDN'T!" Sherlock spat back, "I need them, Mycroft. They can't leave me... They can't leave me alone to this world of idiots and pain."

"Everyone dies, Sherlock-"

"It's not their time! Not yet!"

Mycroft gave it a rest and sat down in a chair. His brother desperately needed John and Susanna- those were the only people who could soothe him.

Sherlock ignored the time and wallowed in misery, worry and loathing. The waiting room soon filled with the families of the two other victims, plus a few other people not connected to the event. He ignored them all and Mycroft guarded the younger Holmes. This lasted for a long, long while before a nurse came, "John Watson and Susanna Holmes?"

Mycroft stood and Sherlock slowly slumped to his feet, ready for the worst. The latter cleared his throat a bit, "How are their conditions?"

"John Watson is stable and we are moving him to ICU as we speak. The bullet in his shoulder was shallowly embedded and he should not suffer permanent damage with proper recovery. We had to stitch him up a bit but he'll be alright. He'll be waking up shortly. Susanna Holmes was more severe as the bullet lodged in her abdomen..."

Sherlock knew it. His left hand came up and covered his face as he stifled a moan of grief. She didn't survive and I didn't even ride with her! He began to mentally berate himself as the nurse continued, "But she is stable."

This is the last arc of the story, guys! After this I am going to publish my next series and I hope you'll check it out when it comes! (Spoiler; It involves a mixup of digits) Thank you for reading!!