Frozen Kisses (Jim Moriarty x Sherlock Holmes)

Chapter Thirty Seven- "Don't Die"

~Sherlock~

Once the ambulance had came, Jim was put onto a stretch and taken into it. Thank God they didn't recognise him. Of course, I went with him. Just by watching him trying to hide the pain he was experiencing  made me feel awful because I could have helped him. I could have stopped him getting shot if I was here but I wasn't. I was on a stupid case. I could have saved him.

His eyes slowly closed and one of the doctor's put an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth which made me panic.

"What's going on?" I asked worriedly, "Is he okay?"

"He just passed out", the doctor reassured me, "Could be from the injury or maybe just the shock".

"Well, is he going to be alright?" I desperately questioned, needing answers.

Without actually giving me an answer, the doctor simply gave me a sympathetic look and then continued checking Jim over. It was as if I was staring at my worst nightmare when I looked at Jim who was now helpless and unconscious. He was such a dominant and in-control man and never did I expect to see him lying in the back of an ambulance on the way to hospital. I didn't even know who it was that shot him. But when I find out and when I encounter whoever it was, I will kill them.

It took about three more minutes to arrive at the hospital and Jim was put on a moving bed and rushed to a private room. I tried to follow but I was pushed away and ordered to sit down and wait. I hated waiting and I hated being told to wait. But that was the only thing I could do at the moment.

I must have waited for at least two and a half hours until I got any information. One of the doctor's that I didn't recognise took me into a room and sat me down just like they did where they told someone that their friend has passed away or any form of bad news. I knew this because John, being a doctor, did it all the time. I never felt sympathy for anyone who was being told that but now I realised it felt horrible. I just never thought I'd be on the receiving end of hospital bad news.

He sat down opposite me with a desk in between up.

"I'm sorry, what was your name again?" He asked although I had never even told him.

"Sherlock Holmes", I stated, desperate to know if Jim was okay.

"And what is the patient's name?" He asked, writing this all down.

Well, at least he said 'is' which implies that he is still alive. But, about his name, should I tell him his real name or not? It could potentially risk him getting caught. I had to quickly think of a fake name and the perfectly ironic name that came into my head brought back endless amounts of memories.

"Richard Brook", I informed him with a hint of a sad smile.

"Okay", the doctor nodded, writing it down, "And what relationship do you have with Richard Brook?"

"Uh...boyfriend, I guess", I hesitated, expecting him to judge me but he just smiled, not seeming to care which was relieving.

"Right, Mr Holmes", he finally put the clipboard down and looked at me, "Your boyfriend has been shot pretty bad and he is still out of it from the anaesthetic because of the operation. We have stitched up the wound and bandaged just in case of bleeding. The bullet was still inside him and, if you called for the ambulance any later than you did, he would've been dead by now so you have practically saved his life. We're doing everything we can but there's no way to tell what's going to happen exactly".

I paused, taking it all in.

"But...he'll live, won't he?" I asked, noticing that my voice was shaking.

"I can't say", he shook his head sadly, "It's too early to tell. But, once the drugs wear off, you can see him".

"When will that be?" I questioned.

"Roughly around ten to twenty minutes", he informed me.

"Can I see him now?" I pleaded, "I want to be there when he wakes up".

The doctor hesitated for a small moment.

"Fine, you can go right in", he allowed me.

"Thank you", I stood up quickly and speedily walked out of the room.

I made my way to the room that Jim was in and, luckily, the were no other people in there. Exactly like what happened to me after the car crash, Jim had lots of tubes coming out of him although there were much more than mine and this was much more serious.

I went and sat on the chair next to his bed. Obviously, he wasn't awake yet. He usually looked so peaceful when he slept but now he just looked uncomfortable. I hated to say it but he almost looked dead. I just wanted him to wake up so that I knew he was okay for sure. Even if-when-he did wake up, he could still have an infection. There was an endless amount of possibilities that could happen.

I sighed, feeling my eyes become wet and rested my head next to his shoulder in the duvet. I never cried. Not even when my old dog, Redbeard, was put down. But the tears arrived naturally when I even thought about Jim not making it. Here I was, crying into the bed of my dying boyfriend. No, he wasn't dying. I had to stay positive. Not that it made any difference anyway.

"I promise this is the last thing I will ever ask you to do", I cried, my head still buried, yet I knew he couldn't hear me, "Just this one thing. Don't die. You managed to survive a gunshot to the mouth. You can survive this. You can survive anything. You're...you".

I was sobbing even harder by now.

"You do know that I didn't actually shoot myself in the mouth, don't you?" A familiar Irish accent asked with sarcasm and the sound of a smirk in his voice.