|| Be Her Guard || Sherlock Holmes x Reader

|♢| Chapter 17 |♢| A Month

It's already almost been a month since Sherlock first arrived in America only to spend such time glued to the side of a silent bed with various worries and regrets running through his mind which have led him to hardly eat, drink, or move at all for that matter which has raised great concern from the doctors yet none of their advice is heeded.

Since your family unfortunately has their own jobs and lives to manage, Sherlock has personally assigned himself to remain by your unconscious side for however long it takes for your condition to better...if it ever does. Despite not knowing him too well themselves, his dedication towards you offers your family, particularly your worried parents, at least some comfort knowing you won't be alone at any point.

Most close relatives like them have long predicted your secret love towards the British man in whom you've always talked so highly of and, seeing that not just anyone drops their entire life to fly across an ocean and sit in a hospital room waiting, they're certain at least some sort of affection exists on his side as well.

Thanks to Mycroft, Sherlock was able to get on the first flight out of London after receiving the horrible news through your aunt. Well, technically it had been through his parents since, having no way to get in touch with the Holmes boy himself, your aunt had hurried a few houses down to tell them first. When he originally heard his mother's frantic voice, he figured she was being dramatic about a rabbit or some other animal stealing from her garden again, but the second he heard your name drop from her lips, he knew it was something serious that demanded every aspect of his attention.

Anything later than the first flight to America would've been unacceptable for him. There are billions of people in the world yet the one person he cares for most is currently fighting for her life after taking a bullet to the head. Someone would be insane to think he wouldn't race to your side, prepared to do whatever it takes to find whoever is responsible for your pain; that 'whoever' already being crystal clear to him.

He feels like an idiot from the start. He considers himself a detective who can solve any case and leave no detail unnoticed, yet it was only while considering the 'coincidence' that you had been shot just two weeks after breaking off your engagement with Apollo that he realized the crucial truth he's been missing about the relationship along. Each time you told him you were simple 'unhappy' and 'not in love', he made the mistake of dismissing the hints you were begging him to notice, all due to some selfish resentment he felt at the thought of you being with another man.

Unlike everyone else who seems to believe it had been a suicide attempt on your part, Sherlock never doubts that someone else had shot you. You've been depressed before, sure, but you had been too optimistic and happy about your possible future after leaving Apollo. You're not the type of person to suddenly change your entire mindset like a switch, but an abusive partner who fears losing their fiancée is the exact type of person to lash out on them. With such conclusions reached, Sherlock knows exactly who shot you, therefore, nothing could describe the way his blood boiled when Apollo dared to step foot into the hospital room.

It had been the first time both men have ever met face-to-face, only ever hearing about one another through you. Most people usually smile and share handshakes upon meeting someone else close to a mutual loved one, but of course, being madly in love with the same person doesn't result in the best atmosphere or common ground.

The meeting was hostile from the very start, Sherlock demanding that Apollo has no right to be there since the engagement had been called off while your ex decided it would be smart to get into the detective's face (despite being easily towered over in height) and accuse him of being the man you cheated with. Needless to say, no one was too shocked when fists were eventually thrown, words apparently not being hurtful enough compared to a powerful punch. There's no doubt in Sherlock's mind that Apollo was involved in your attempted murder thus, he'd be damned if ever let that man near you ever again, promising to do far more than smash his nose in next time.

Luckily, your parents sided with Sherlock, demanding that Apollo not be allowed in the hospital room again since he isn't family, nor does he hold any close relationship with you. They've never been the biggest fans of him and hearing him flat-out accuse you of adultery doesn't exactly help him gain their favor either. It had been quite satisfying to see the look of fury on his bloodied face when he realized he was forbidden to enter your room again while Sherlock gets to stay, however, the feeling had done little to make anyone feel better.

You still haven't woken up and Sherlock would know since he's been sitting by your side day in and day out waiting. He's getting impatient to the point that's he's almost pulled his own hair out once several occasions. It doesn't matter if he tries talking to you or even holding your hand when no one else is around to see. You don't so much as lift a finger in response which continues to worry him. What would be the point of putting Apollo behind bars if you can't be there to see it?

He lets out a groan, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes tightly, hoping the tears would just go away. He hates crying yet that's all he seems to be doing lately, only managing to keep it in until everyone else leaves the room before breaking his will.

It's dark outside by this point. The last visitor, your mother, had left at nine thirty after being there since five. Even the doctors don't come in too often anymore, only for quick checkups. It seems like everyone else is beginning to give up at this point. While they've been assured that the bullet merely grazed your brain, they can't know for sure if it prevented serious damage not to mention you had already lost quite a bit of blood before first responders could get to you. In other words, you may have survived the bullet, but there's still a good change your body could throw in the towel in its weakened state.

Surprisingly, Mycroft had called the night before to ask for an update, something that their parents normally called for. Sherlock would've thought their mother had put him up to it if not for the sound of sincerity in his older brother's voice when carefully informing him (as if he didn't already know) that you may not wake up and that, maybe, it's best to return home. He didn't even argue when Sherlock refused which may have been the biggest surprise to the younger Holmes. He was expecting one of Mycroft's famous lectures on how 'caring is a disadvantage' and that it's 'a waste of time', but it never came, the oldest merely wishing him luck and to call if anything happens.

Now, one could imagine the way Sherlock almost gives himself whiplash when feeling something brush against his leg. His heart nearly stops, his breath caught in his throat when he meets a pair of dull (e/c) eyes staring blankly at him. For a moment, he thinks he's simply dreaming, that his lack of selfcare throughout the month has made him delusional, but then-

"-S...S-Sh..." Tears immediately fill your eyes through the pain when recognize the outline of your friend, but despite your best efforts, your voice can only speak in a broken whisper, your mind as blurry as your vision.

"Shh," he carefully yet promptly takes your hand, sandwiching it between his own while leaning over to press a lingering kiss to your forehead," I'm here, love...I'm here."

In all the crying he's done over the last month, these are his first tears of joy.