Won't Let My World Fall

Chapter 8

(A/N: I'm going to upload the rest of the story, plus the epilogue, tonight, hopefully. Oh, and by the way, Doctor Who fans, I'm really sorry about the end of this chapter. Well, maybe not, but you'll probably hate me.)

(Sherlock's POV)

Sherlock dragged John into a clump of bushes near the park entrance. Their adjacent hands rested on the ground between them, still intertwined. Two people were approaching the gates; a third was waiting for them. "What's going on?" John whispered to Sherlock.

"They're handing off the samovar. But one of them's not going to walk away from this."

John started, "Wait, they're gonna double cross one of them? We have to stop them, we can't just let them kill someone!" He moved forward, around the bush. 

"John!" Sherlock hissed at him. "What exactly are you planning to do?"

"I don't know, something."

Sherlock grabbed John's wrist to hold him back, but John pulled free and stood up. He crept along the park wall, Sherlock following. Sherlock watched the two men holding the dispatch case closely; he was sure one of them had a knife or maybe even a gun. The third man was preparing to hand over a load of money. He and John were about ten feet away from them, hidden in the shadows. The case holding the samovar was set on the ground in between the men. The buyer tossed over the money and leaned down to pick it up. As soon as he bent over, the shorter of the other two whipped out a knife. John ran forward and knocked him to the ground. Sherlock jumped in between John and the second man and punched him in the face. The third man had straightened up but stood frozen watching the fight. The sound of police sirens was approaching quickly. Lestrade, Sherlock thought, glad that he had taken the time to let Lestrade know what was happening this time. The buyer scooped up his money and ran for it. "He's getting away!" John said. Both he and Sherlock as well had become distracted from the fight they were currently engaged in, and both paid for it as they directed their attention back to the two men. Sherlock received a punch to the gut and staggered backwards, but John took a knife to his side. Or almost, anyway. 

He tried to avoid the blow but still got a fairly deep gash under his ribs.

"No!" Sherlock yelled, abandoning his fight. John put one hand to his wound, bleeding profusely and his other to a nearby tree to steady himself. The two men took off running, followed by several arriving policemen. John sank to the ground, leaning against the tree and gritting his teeth against the pain. Sherlock ran to him and threw himself down beside him. "It'll be okay." He said, trying to convince himself as much as John. Sherlock put his hand over the one John had on the wound, "Just stay conscious, stay with me." John was pale and breathing heavily. Sherlock could see Lestrade approaching, "Call an ambulance!" He shouted. Blinking back tears, he turned back to John and clutched his hand. "It'll be alright," Sherlock choked out. John was on the berge of unconsciousness. "I love you." Sherlock whispered. John met his eyes, "Quite right, too. And I suppose...since it might be my last chance to say it," He struggled for breath, "Sherlock Holmes-" He blacked out.