*John POV*
"What do I do with him?"
Mycroft looks back at us through the mirror, wincing when he sees that Sherlock is curled up with his head in my lap.
"If it bothers you, move him."
I let Sherlock stay where he is, still running my fingers through his curls.
"What's going on with him? Hes had a break down at least once a day since I got here."
"Jim is abusive, but Sherlock keeps going back. I'm not sure why. His first roommate was the one that got him hooked on drugs, he's scared. He almost died four times that year, four times that I know of."
I look down at Sherlock, putting my other arm protectively around him.
"I wont hurt him, I promise."
"I trust you, just look after him."
"Why so soon?"
"You found me as soon as he left. You care about him despite his...difficult tendencies."
"Oh."
"Thank you."
I nod slowly, still scared for Sherlock.
"What are we going to do about it?"
"Give me your mobile."
I pass it up to Mycroft, unlocking it quickly. He types in his number and hands it back to me.
"Dont think about it, just call me. Do you have Greg's number yet?"
"Just his email."
Mycroft rattles off a number, which I quickly type into my mobile.
"If you cant reach me, call him."
Sherlock's mobile starts ringing, startling me. Mycroft keeps driving, ignoring the ringing until a second and third call come in.
"Pass it here."
I reach into Sherlock's trouser pocket, grabbing his mobile and passing it up to Mycroft.
"Hello?"
Mycroft stops the car suddenly, throwing Sherlock off the seat and onto the floorboards. I am jerked violently against my seat belt, hitting my head against the window.
"What the hell was that for?"
He doesn't get a chance to respond, windscreen shattering in a shower of glass. I yelp, something stinging my arm. Sherlock pulls me down beside him, pressing me against the floor with his hand firmly on the small of my back. Gunfire muffles Mycrofts words, but i can hear Sherlock, his lips brushing against my ear as he talks.
"You're bleeding."
I look over, noticing the blood that is running down my arm.
"I'm fine, whats going on?"
"Sherlock..."
Mycrofts voice is full of fear, eyes wide as he looks back at his brother.
"No...did they..."
He nods slowly, pulling his hands away from his stomach for a moment to show he has been shot. Everything goes silent, a black van driving off quickly. Sherlock jumps out of the car, running down the street in an attempt to see the plates. He comes back a few moments later, falling hard against the side of the car. I hop out, making Mycroft lie down in the grass.
"Sherlock, call someone."
"Who?"
"He needs help, I need you to call 999."
Sherlock's hands are shaking badly, causing him to drop his mobile. He just stares at it, not moving to pick it up. I grab his hands, yelling at him to move or do something to help.
"Sherlock? Sherlock!"
He breaks down crying, hugging his knees to his chest as Mycroft struggles to speak.
"Sherlock...look at me."
Sherlock looks over, eyes locking with Mycrofts.
"Help John, alright?"
He nods slowly, looking detached as he struggles to catch his breath.
"Sherlock, dial 999. I cant close up the wound fast enough."
Sherlock gingerly picks up his mobile, barely able to dial the number as the shaking in his hands worsens.
"Here, you hold pressure on this, and I'll handle the call."
I take his mobile from him, holding it up to my ear just as an operator picks up.
