Survival Of The Fittest [Johnlock]

3: A Wish...

I meet Etienne much sooner than I thought I would.

The news isn't good and when I tell this to Sherlock, he kicks the closest object (a chair) and runs a hand over his face. I feel bad, despite knowing that I would never have been able to do a thing.

Etienne, a small seven year old that shared Sherlock's curls, was dying. He'd been hit with a poison dart and it was slowly destroying his immune system. His temperture had skyrocketed and he had a bad fever, coughing and sweating like mad despite the fact he said he felt cold.

Sherlock pushes past me and enters the room where Etienne lays. I go in too, locking the door behind me.

Sherlock kneels by the little boy and takes his hand. For the first time ever, I see Sherlock smile. But it's a sad, pained smile that shows how much he didn't want this.. how much it was going to break him.

"Hey, little man.." Sherlock whispers, kissing the hand he held.

Etienne blinks, fighting to keep his eyes open. "I'm dying, aren't I, Sher?"

To my surprise, Sherlock is honest with him. "Yes, Etienne, you are.."

Etienne coughs. "Why isn't My here?"

Sherlock shakes his head, not answering this time. He moves on to the dirty matress that Etienne was on and lifts the boy slightly, sitting behind him and lower him so he sat against Sherlock's head. He hums quietly and runs his fingers through the sick boy's hair.

It's odd to see him like this. So.. human.

I don't say a word and look away, out the gap between the window and the cutrian. I can't watch their moment together.

I prepare myself, as I did at the ranch, for death. When Etienne falls asleep, I have no doubt that Sherlock will take the chance and lead me away from this room before shooting me. I hope, as way of a thank you, he does it quickly.

"Sher?" Etienne asks weakly. I wince at the sound of his voice.

That's the hoarse, weak, shaky voice of a dying child and it breaks my heart.

"Hm?" Sherlock hums in answering.

"Is My coming?"

I glace over as Sherlock shakes his head. He's got his arms around Etienne and is rocking them gently, his chin by Etienne's shoulder. He looks pained, like he's fighting back a sob. He looks as he does when he wakes from his dreams. Immediately, I look away again.

"W-why?" Etienne asks, struggling for breathe.

"Sleep, now, Etienne" Sherlock orders, voice soft.

"Don't hurt the Doctor... I want him to stay" Etienne coughs violently again.

"He didn't help"

"No one could" Etienne replies and it's like their position have been switched. "My... My is gone. You need someone, Sher. Promise me you'll take him as a friend..."

I remain quiet. This kid is agruing that I stay alive, I'm not going to stop him. I have no idea why he wants me around, maybe he just didn't want his.. brother? father?.. to have a friend and I was all that's avaliable. For three days or more, he's been laying alone so he knows what it's like. He's young too, so it would be twice as scary for him. He wouldn't want that for someone else.

I can feel Sherlock's eyes on me but I don't breathe a word, leaving this man to decide my fate. There are worse people out there that would kill me for the ripped and bloodied shirt on my back in less merciful ways than Sherlock will kill me for this. He's already entering the grieving process, despite a small amount of life being in Etienne's body, and he'll probably shoot him between the eyes.

Unless he listens to Etienne.

God, Sherlock, please listen to Etienne. Back in Afghanistan, I thought I was ready to die but I'm not. I am not ready to die, not for anything short of saving someone I love (but God knows where Harry and Mum are now. Probably dead already, if I'm honest with myself. Well maybe not Harry she's a fighter but Mum is old and brittle).

"Sher, promise me" Etienne demands in the most powerful voice he can muster, but it's still extremely weak.

I feel Sherlock's gaze drop from my back. "Of course, baby. If you want the doctor alive, I won't hurt him. I'll take him with me"

"To go find My?"

"My isn't going to be able to help. He's busy, remember? Big government position" Sherlock murmurs the words, voice shaking.

I glance back at him. Etienne looks worse than when I last looked.

He's going to go soon and Sherlock nods it.

"I love you, Sher. Tell My I love him too if you see him" Etienne whispers, his eyes closing but he's still there. His chest moves up and down in a harsh, rapid way.

"Good boy. You sleep" Sherlock leans down and kisses the boy's dirty forehead.

By morning, Etienne's little heart had stopped beating and Sherlock had buried him behind the building they'd been in that night. He decorats the grave with nearby stones and kisses his fingers before pressing them to the biggest rock at the top of the grave.

Then he stands, turns and walks back to the car, gripping my upper arm as he passes to drag me a long with him despite the fact I'd go willingly. For starter, there's safety in numbers and secondly, even if I didn't know him long, I'll honour what that little boy asked for on his death bed.

I'll be Sherlock's friend.