Sentiment {Sherlock BBC}

47. "Hospital Run."

I watched them lift Sherlock up onto the stretcher and I jump into the ambulance with them. John explaining who I am. They put an oxygen mask over Sherlock's mouth and tore his shirt open. I still gripped his hand, feeling him squeeze back lightly.

"Sherlock. We're losing you. Sherlock?" John asked and I noticed his eyes open slightly. He looked over at me and I felt his grip on my hand tighten.

We arrived at the hospital and they had me and John wait in a waiting area. Now, I felt, it was okay to lose my shit. I bawled my eyes out and John put his arm around me, rubbing my arms.

A nurse came out and frowned at me. As she approached she took my hand,

"We're sorry to tell you, Sherlock has pass-,"

"No! No! He's back, he's bloody back!" a nurse exclaimed coming out of the room just after this nurse. My heart pounded in my chest as I dropped to the floor, still crying.

"Mary." I heard John. It had been about an hour since they came and gave me the false news. 

"Hey." She said rushing to my side to hug me. I sat in the waiting room, still unable to go in and face Sherlock. John went in and that was it. He talked to the doctors. I couldn't. I could not bear to walk in and see him yet.

"He's only bloody woken up! He's pulled through." John said.

"Really?! Seriously?" Mary smiled.

"Oh, you, Mrs Watson... you're in big trouble."

"Really? Why?" she asked letting go of me.

"His first word when he woke up? "Mary"!" John laughed and Mary laughed as well and hugged John.

"Well, I'll go see him real quick." Mary smiled. I nodded, as did John, and she walked in. I sat with John and he patted my knee with a reassuring smile. 

One Week Later

I stood outside Sherlock's hospital room and John sighed grabbing my hand.

"He's asked for you all week, it's time you see him." John rolled his eyes. He was beginning to get fed up with my actions, and I don't blame him. I sighed as I walked into Sherlock's room and frowned at the sight.

"Hey," I croaked. My throat was dry from all the crying I had done.

"Hey," he returned lightly.

"God, why did this happen?" I frowned.

"It's okay," he said.

"You came back. How did you manage-?"

"I came back-," he groaned as he sat up. "For you," he said.

"Again. How?"

"It took a lot of mind power, but overall I felt it was worth it." He said. I smiled at him and rolled my eyes. "I missed you." He said.

"Yeah. Yeah, I missed you too." I smiled at him.

"I need to get out of here." He said.

"What?"

"Get. Me. Out." He begged. I looked over at the window and he nodded.

I sat with Mary at 221B covering my face with my hands as she talked to John on the phone.

"So where would he go?" she asked frantically.

"Oh, Christ knows. Try finding Sherlock in London. Liz do you know where he could be?" John asked as she put the phone in front of us on speaker.

"No clue." I mumbled curling up on the couch. Mary sighed and hung up. I may have helped Sherlock unhook himself from the machines and we may have spent some alone time together in the flat earlier, but I have no clue where he went afterward. Mary sighed and sat up,

"I need to get to work. I'll talk to you later? Alright?" Mary asked.

"Yeah, thanks for stopping by." I smiled.

"Anything for a friend," she smiled.

After about a half hour, John walked in, Lestrade behind him.

"He knew who shot him. The bullet wound was here, so he was facing whoever it was." John said.

"So why not tell us?" Lestrade asked as John looked over at me and sighed.

"Because he's tracking them down himself." Lestrade tried.

"Or protecting them." John said and looked at me again.

"Protecting the shooter? Why?" Lestrade asked.

"Well, protecting someone, then." John added.

"But why would he care? He's Sherlock. Who would he bother protecting?" Lestrade asked when both men turned to look at me.

"What?" I asked.

"You know something." John said.

"What? No! I do not! How dare you-,"

"He's been here, hasn't he?" John asked.

"Wh-,"

"Your legs are crossed, you only ever do that after you and Sherlock have had-,"

"Okay! Jesus Christ! He was here, but I don't know where he went." I confessed and they both sighed.

"Call me if you hear anything. Don't hold out on me, John." Lestrade said as John sat in his chair. Sherlock brought the chair back the other day. John looked at the chair and then to me. "Call me, okay?" Lestrade asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, right." John said.

"John? Liz? Need a cuppa?" Mrs. Hudson asked as she walked into the kitchen.

"Mrs. Hudson... my chair." John began.

"Oh, yes, he's put your chair back again, hasn't he?" She asked.

"Huh," John said.

"That's nice!" Mrs. Hudson smiled. She brought over the kettle and a tray sitting it beside John's chair. "Looks much better." She added. "John, what's wrong? Tell me." She said. I looked at the bottle and the little container by John's table and frowned. "That's your phone, isn't it?" Mrs. Hudson suddenly asked. She brought over John's phone and spoke loudly,

"It's Sherlock, John. It's Sherlock." I quickly rushed over to Mrs. Hudson and took his phone.

"Sherlock!"

"Make sure John looks at the bottle of perfume. It's the same perfume the person wore who shot me." He said. I quickly looked at the bottle and noticed John was already looking at it.

"Uh, he is..." I said quietly when Sherlock hung up and I frowned.

"I need to go, could I?" John asked motioning to his phone.

"Oh, yeah, sorry." I said handing him his phone. He took it and I grabbed his arm before he walked out.

"Bring Sherlock home, please John." I sighed.

"Don't worry, he'll be back. He always comes back." John smiled at me and walked out of the flat

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Well, I don't know why but I actually found this chapter quite fun and cute to read. I'm proud of myself. 

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