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Sherlock moves before he can think.
There's a loud and familiar noise of a gun being fired and he feels a pleasant sort of numbness for a split second before the pain seeps in.
He falls back, managing to catch himself on his elbows before his head collides with the hard concrete floor below him- very breifly seeing John disarming the man clad in black, too caught up in the searing pain that settles deep in the right side of his chest.
"Sherlock, we got 'im, Lestrade's on his way here- you can stop faking it now." John says, clearly amused. "Your acting is getting worse."
The ability to breathe is suddenly limited and Sherlock gasps, this turning into a harsh cough that he covers with a hand and leaves him trying to catch his breath.
Blood. Blood droplets on his palm.
His lung, then, the bullet pierced his lung and is still in there. Good thing, that. There's a possibility of him getting out of this alive but there's also a possibility of it going a very different way.
"Sherlock?- oh god, Sherlock."
A warm presence by his side has him craning his neck to look at John, his friend has wide eyes from a sleepless night, ruffled hair- they've been working on this case for at least a few days, he weakly smiles at him.
"My acting's terrible, is it?" he asks, voice hoarse and he breifly grimaces at the new and odd sort of sensation that comes with him speaking.
"Sherlock, " John repeats and it sounds so broken, Sherlock feels him putting pressure on the fresh bullet wound, blood most definitely staining the purple shirt he decided to wear today, and he winces at this, whimpering ever so softly at the pain. "Sherlock.”
"It's real this time John, it-" Sherlock takes a sharp intake of breath, managing to swallow down a cough as he looks up at John, John who's other hand is now cradling the back of his head- a few bruises littering his face, from the criminal he'd just a few moments ago brought down no doubt. "it hurts."
"I know, I know it does, Sherlock just- just hang on for me, yeah?" John requests, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes that he clearly has to fight back, right on the verge of panicking, maybe even starting to as he sees just how much blood seeps from under his button up. "Paramedics will be here in just a few minutes- with Greg- they'll help you- just stay with me, mm?"
"John-" Sherlock chokes out, managing to lift a hand up to clutch at John's sleeve.
"Shh, no, don't waste your breath- you got shot in the lung you cock."
Sherlock puffs out a heavy breath at that, smiling, the feeling of blood still trickling down the side of his lips, unchecked. The sight of this makes John smile, the painful sort of one and Sherlock feels his chest clench, not only because of his lung collapsing, the right one as well.
"You bloody bastard-" John murmurs, the sounds of an ambulence becoming closer and closer, that as well as some familiar cars. "you- oh, for god's sake Sherlock- why on earth did you do that?"
A rhetorical question of course, and yet Sherlock can't help but want to answer it. Your life means more to me than my own, he wants to say, no matter how sappy it sounds.
Your loss would break my heart, Mycroft's voice says in his head, and he pictures his brother there, in front of a grave- he wouldn't cry, no, Sherlock's never seen Mycroft cry, he'd stand there and blame himself, clutching onto that stupid umbrella of his and that, Sherlock realizes, is somehow worse. Caring is not an advantage Sherlock, I've told you that before many times, Mycroft is saying to him, it can get you in all sorts of trouble- trouble like this.
The ability to answer John fails him, however, when Sherlock takes another breath in order to speak, coughing out quite some blood instead.
Your lung is collapsing, Sherlock. Only a matter of time before you fall unconcious and that'll only increase your chance of death.
Well how exactly does he prevent that, he wants to ask Mycroft-
Don't fall unconcious, obviously.
Helpful as ever, of course.
John is saying something to him but he can't hear him, he sees his face close to his own, lips are moving but he can't hear a thing. It's all muffled.
Black spots start to appear in his sight of vision, all around him actually- when did Lestrade get here? What's his name again? Graham, Giles- Geoff?
Sherlock can see Lestrade's mouth moving too, brow furrowed with concern, John is too, but there is not a single noise that he can hear- it's all so far away. He hears voices but he can't hear them at the same time.
The pain eases for a second and Sherlock can no longer see as well- he finds himself in a completely black room though he can still see his hands perfectly fine, not dark then.
The pain slams back into him and he cries out, dropping to his knees once more
I knew you'd finally join me down here, Sherlock.
Sherlock’s head snaps up and he's met by the grinning Moriarty, sitting atop a throne, one leg crossed over the other. Looking down at him.
You were right, Sherlock hears him say though his voice is disorted, you may be on the side of the angels, but you damn well aren't one.
Sherlock sees Jim stand up and saunter to him, still grinning like a madman 'till he reaches him.
There's a moment where the two of them look at each other before Moriarty moves, kicking him in the chest and shoving him onto his back, foot remaining on his chest.
Sucks doesn't it? You do everything for the man you love- it even saved you one time but not this one- no. This time, that won't save you Sherlock. Moriarty whispers, grin only growing at the hiss of pain Sherlock lets out. Oh, does that hurt? My bad, where are my manners!
Moriarty's foot moves right on his bullet wound and digs deep, the man giggles happily.
This time, Sherlock, Moriarty begins, leaning down just enough to be level with Sherlock's face, putting all of his body weight on his foot that is still comfortably sat atop Sherlock's chest, making him gasp.
This time you're stuck with me, forever and ever.. and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever
His speech blends together and Sherlock can only see the smiling man's head move from side to side to side again, and a change of words comes only after at least five minutes of that.
Sherlock Holmes, finally here with me, Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes, stuck down here with me!
Moriarty's words are said in a sing-song tone, pressing his foot deeper and deeper during every Sherlock, Sherlock
Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock, SherlockSherlockSherlockSherlockSherlockSherlockSherlockSherlockSherlockSherlockSherlockSherlockSherlockSherlockSherlockSherlockSherlockSherlocksherlocksherlocksherlocksherlocksherlocksherlocksherlocksherlocksherlocksherlocksherlocksherlocksherlocksherlock--
"Sherlock, "
"Sherlock, please. One more miracle for me again, yeah? Just one more. For me."
"Wake up, please wake up."
A blinding light meets his eyes the moment they flutter, a warm and strong pressure grips at his hand, a newfound tightness greets his chest.
Upon attempting to open his eyes once again, looking to his side this time, he's met with the sight of John Watson, clutching onto his hand, head down on the blankets of the hospital bed.
"Wake up, Sherlock, that's all I ask- you've done it before, you can do it now. You bastard."
A warm sort of smile tugs at his lips
"Careful what you say, John, wouldn't want anyone knowing you are capable of being sad." he mumbles out and finds himself being able to give John's hand a little squeeze, to which the man looks up almost instantly.
"Sherlock."
"Yes, yes, I'm fine- no need to get dramatic over-"
John lunges forward and pulls him into a hug, a hug that he melts into momentarily, but also one in which he needs to croak out a small "Careful- John-" and John does, loosens his grip all the way actually with a "Oh god, sorry." and goes to pull away but Sherlock won't be having any of that.
"Just- come here you dolt, " he says and, carefully this time, brings John in for a sort of awkward hug what with John being leaned over in his chair and Sherlock being layed down in a bed.
It's not perfect but that's just them. And neither of them would have it any other way.