No Shit, Sherlock

Safer When I'm With You

"Stop crying. I hate it when you all cry."

I stare up at him, the tears still falling from my eyes. If tears make him feel guilty, then I'll cry until my eyes dry. I'll do anything to make him feel any amount of guilt.

"(Y/n)?!"

My tears stop at the familiar voice. I take a deep breath and yell as loud as I can, "Sherlock!"

The man above me looks to the entrance of the alley, terror in his eyes. He's pulled off of me and thrown to the wall. John runs over to me, "Are you okay?"

I don't answer, I'm too focused on the fight in front of us. Sherlock is punching the man, and a loud crunch echoes as he punches him in the nose. The man swings at him, his fist makes contact with Sherlock. And I realize that it was the hand holding the knife.

I jump to my feet as Sherlock stumbles back. I stalk towards the man, pulling the dagger from my boot. He continues to swing the knife at Sherlock, but I run up behind him and stab him in the shoulder. His knife falls to the ground as he reaches back to hold his shoulder.

I run to Sherlock, "He stabbed you! We need to get you to a hospital."

Sherlock grabs my face with his hands, "I'm fine. You're the one I'm worried about."

His gaze moves down to my chest, his eyes full of rage. I cover myself, "I told you it was tied too tight."

"He cut you."

I look down at my stomach. There are bloody lines carved into me. Deep enough to scar, but not deep enough to kill me. Sherlock wraps his coat around me, buttoning it up all the way. I pull the sleeves up as much as I can, so that I can use my hands.

"I'm never letting you out of my sight."

He wipes the tears from my face, "And you will never do something like this ever again."

"Okay," I mutter.

He pulls me into a hug, "I shouldn't even let you out of the flat."

"Well done!" Lestrade clears his throat, "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt your moment."

I pull away from Sherlock and look at Lestrade, "Will he be locked up now?"

"Yes, he will never see the outside world again."

Sherlock watches as they load the man up in a carriage, "I should've killed the son of a bitch."

"Death would be the easy way out. I think you and Ms. (L/n) did enough damage to make him suffer for a while," says Lestrade.

John joins us now, "I think the two of you should see the medics."

They seat Sherlock away from me, I watch them nervously as they lift his shirt up. I can't see much from here, but I don't think the stab wound is very deep. A male medic grabs at my jacket, "I need to see your wounds."

I pull away from him in fear, shoving his hands away from me. "Don't fucking touch me."

He reaches for me again, "I just need to remove your jacket."

I shove him away from me and walk over to Sherlock, ignoring the man's yelling. I can feel myself shutting down. Everything around me sounds louder, and the lights are brighter. My breaths come out choppy as the beginning stages of a panic attack take over.

Sherlock buttons his shirt back up and wraps an arm around me, "Just breathe."

John makes his way over to us. "I'll finish up here, you two get home."

I nod in response, allowing Sherlock to pull me with him. My eyes stay on the ground the whole walk home. My heart rate has settled down since we left, but I still feel absolutely terrified.