•Teenlock•Parentlock• If All Else Fails

23• Hospital Beds

Brave. That was the only word Gregory Lestrade could think of to describe Sherlock at that very moment in time. He was sat on the chair, next to John's bed, with John's right hand enclosed in both of his. Sherlock wasn't crying, or tearful, he looked so, so... Brave. He sat up straight with his head held high whispering things that only he and John could hear. Greg took a sip of the Starbucks he was holding in both hands. He had so much respect for Sherlock. Yeah, he was an ignorant arse and sometimes Lestrade wanted nothing more than to hit the smart ass bugger, but no one deserved this. He wouldn't wish the dull, achey upsetting feeling that was present in the room next to John's on anybody.

Sherlock stood up and kissed John's forehead, caressing his face. He made his way into the room in which Greg, Molly, Irene and Mary waited anxiously. They hadn't spoken to him. They all stood up when Sherlock entered the room. No one knew why, maybe a sign of respect, but no one would say anything.

Molly walked up to Sherlock and threw her arms around him, bitterly crying for her friend. Sherlock awkwardly hugged her back. She was taller and thinner than his John. He wasn't used to hugging anyone else.

Lestrades phone rang. "Sorry." He mumbled, looking at who it was. He blushed a deep scarlet as he saw it was Mycroft. "Sorry." He repeated, readying his finger to delete the call.

"Take it." Sherlock said, giving his friend the closest thing he could to a smile. Lately, Mycroft hadn't got off his freaking phone.

"Sure?" Greg asked, hesitantly. Sherlock nodded, carefully picking Molly's claws off his back. She smiled for a second and then let her face drop as she paced towards Mary, to stand next to her.

"How... How is he?" Mary asked. She had been stunned by it all. Everything. She shook wildly and she took Molly's hand in hers. Smiling as best she could at Sherlock.

"Yeah... Yeah he's fine. You know, basically dead but good." Sherlock said, wrapping his coat further around him. His scarf still smelled like John.

"Oh!" Mary said, her hand over her mouth. "Sorry I didn't mean..."

"I don't mind, Mary." He scowled at Irene. "We need to talk."

•••••••••••••••••••••••

"I spoke to Irene." Sherlock murmured to John. He was lying on John's chest, his coat and scarf lying on the chair. "She was pissed. She feels guilty. She should... shouldn't she? " Sherlock stroked the cool face above him. "I don't know." Sherlock raised his eyebrows as a small tear fell from his eye. "This is what you do to me, John Watson. You make me not know, and I really don't like not knowing." Sherlock chuckled through yet more tears. "And I know... I know you always do everything for me but I need you to do one. More. Thing." He gasped back his tears. "One more miracle, my love." He sobbed into John's unconscious body. "One more miracle." He took John's hand and kissed it. "Don't die on me."

•••••••••••••••••••••••

Mary Elizabeth Morstan was not a girl known for her sympathy. Mary was known for being a fiery, happy go lucky sort of girl who could argue against anything. Her tongue almost as sharp as the blades of the knives she carelessly threw into the target on her bedroom wall. Bullseye, every time. She did this time and time again while Molly and irene talked to- or rather at- her. While Mary Elizabeth Morstan was not known for her sympathy, she was in fact, known for her phycological skills.

It was clear as soon as you met her you were being analysed. While Sherlock did this subtly, Mary made it quite obvious. While Sherlock made deductions, Mary slyly stored the information away, to terrorise you later on in life. She didn't do this unless you deserved it. For example, when some seemingly wrong rumours about Greg being gay, it was suddenly an issue that the bully in question wet himself until he was fourteen. He moved schools.

"I can't imagine how Sherlock feels." Molly sighed. Mary zoned back in to the conversation. She sat on her bed, three knives still in her hands.

"Do you think he'll wake up?" Mary asked, biting her already chewed nails.

"I hope so, or I'm no friend of Sherlocks." Irene muttered, biting her lip. Molly hummed in agreement,

"Why did you choose Sherlock over John?" Mary asked. Irene scowled. "Not being bitchy... Just asking..." Mary raised her hands and her eyebrows in innocence. Irene let her scowl drop into a thinking face.

"I didn't." Irene began chewing the chestnut waves that fell about her chest. "I wanted to stop him all together, but I just slowed him." Irene paused and looked at the considering faces of her female friends. "What would you have done?" She defended herself. Mary thought this over while Molly copied Irene in chewing on her hair. Try to stop Moriarty or let Sherlock be pushed off the edge. It was the easy decision of 'Sherlock or John.'

"I would have stabbed him." Mary said. "You had the knife, didn't you? You slid all the way from his waist to his ankles when you jumped to stop him, you could have killed the bastard. Slit down his leg or something...?" Mary said. "I'm just thinking logically, don't look at me like that Irene."

"You took thirty seconds to come up with that." Irene glared. "If you'd been at that rooftop and you had a split second, you'd have done the same." She spat.

"Apologies." Mary said, picking up her remaining knives and throwing them all at once, each landing on the bullseye section.