Following the sociopath (Sher/Johnlock one-shots)

Breaking point

That was it. I couldn't take it any more. I had almost snapped. My eyes narrowed, a hard, cold look behind the initial murderous glare. I almost felt bad for the bloke at the other end of my stare, but I couldn't. Not after what he'd done. I half held Sherlock's unconscious body against my side, trying to keep us both upright. His left arm was draped around my shoulder and my right arm was snaked around his side, my hand holding my gun. Locked and loaded. Sherlock's right side of his chest was oozing blood from the bullet wound he had just received a minute ago. The man in front of us looked scared out of his wits. As he should, I thought. Realizing I looked rather frightening. My plaid shirt torn and smeared with blood, Sherlock's blood, as were my pants. My eyes were puffy, with dark circles underneath them, not to mention the look I was giving him. The man tried to run, but he stumbled and fell into the brick wall to the side of us. "Please...I'm-Im sorry...just please don't hurt me." The man whimpered, hands coming up in front of him, shaking wildly. "Run." My voice was cold, deadly. While I was enjoying the show, I knew Sherlock was running out of time. He has been unconscious for over three minutes and wasn't showing any vital signs besides the tiny flutter of his pulse, I could just barely feel it through his shirt-or what was left of it. I needed to let Lestrade or Mycroft or somebody know, so they could come and help him while I took care of this thug, but I couldn't. I just held my breath, tightened my grip on Sherlock and kept my gun trained on the man's heart. He tried to run again, this time, I didn't show him sympathy, I decided on shooting him in the back. It wasn't a fatal shot, but close enough. Killing him would be too merciful. I heard his body promptly hit the ground with a thud and a harsh release of air as the wind got knocked out of him. I then let out a slight sigh of relief. I moved Sherlock and I precariously over the wall and leaned against it, pulling out my mobile. "Lestrade." I breathed into the receiver. The whole lot of them would be here in less than two minutes. "Hang in there,Sherlock. It'll all be alright." I murmur to him, hoping desperately that it would.

The ambulance came a very long minute later and hurriedly hauled him onto a stretcher and rolled him into the back. After some persuasion, they let me hold his hand on the way to the hospital. I telepathically willed him to hold on, thinking maybe someway he could hear me.

I listened to Sherlock's heart monitor as it sputtered. It sounded very close to giving out. No. It wouldn't. Sherlock wouldn't leave me like that, no matter how selfish he was, he would always do what was in my best interest. What would keep me safe. The doctors worked busily, but calmly over his chest. They seemed worried. I didn't like that. All too soon, though, the machine did stop. It quit all together. The beeping stopped, going quiet. Now all there was, was a flat green line against a black screen, and an awful long toned ring. The poor doctor tried his hardest to bring my best friend back , but he failed. Just as I failed to protect the same man, the only man I seemed to give a damn about anymore. The only person I really loved. Sure, they may have called Sherlock the heartless one. Incapable of feeling. But they got that wrong, I am the one not capable of feeling. I had never really loved anyone before, I really only cared about Harry because I had to. I had always put on a show. That was until Sherlock. I had loved him. But he had always loved people, he just never showed it, he was afraid of rejection. Afraid of being called a freak. I let these thoughts and all the wonderful memories we had made wash over me as my shoulders shook in miserable sobs that gradually just got louder. Eventually I was in hysterics, the doctors tried to comfort me and move me out the room, but it only made it worse. They resolved to call in Lestrade, who was also no use. Nothing could make me feel better now. Nothing could save me. Now, I realized why Sherlock said some of the things he did, and I decided to start living by one of them. Alone is what I have, alone protects me.

(So, yeah. That was my first attempt at a one shot. Sorry if it's crap. Feel free to tell me what you think! And just to let you know, I'll probably be leaving small author's notes like this throughout the stories. Because that's what authors do, don't they? leave a note?

~Em)