The ambulance sped through the streets of London, headed for the hospital.
Sherlock held Evelyn's hand, careful not to dislodge the temporary IV they had attached. An oxygen mask covered her mouth and nose. Sherlock watched as the plastic became slightly foggy with every breath she took.
She had lost a lot of blood. The bullet was still inside her body. It could be infected, they said. It could be infected and she could die.
She could die.
She could die.
You might lose her, too.
Sherlock watched her breathe, his heart stopping between her breaths, scared each could be the last. She drew 120 breaths before they reached the hospital. He had to let go of her hand while they pulled the stretcher from the ambulance and wheeled her as fast as they could into the hospital.
Eve was surrounded by blue scrubs and white coats immediately and taken into an operating room. Sherlock stood outside, his black coat distinct against the white walls.
He stood, waiting numbly.
Mycroft arrived a few minutes later, having seen to John and...the body.
"Sherlock," Mycroft spoke softly.
The younger Holmes said nothing, continuing to stare at the door they took her through. Mycroft put his hand on Sherlock's shoulder.
"Sherlock."
The detective inhaled, his eyes refocusing. "Yes. What?"
"You should sit down. They'll be in there a while." Mycroft said.
"The bullet was still inside her body. It could be infected." Sherlock said.
"I know, Sherlock. I know." Mycroft said. "Sit."
Sherlock complied, finding a chair with a deflated blue cushion and sitting. Mycroft sat beside him, leaning his umbrella against the wall in between them.
Machines beeped in the surrounding rooms. A phone rang at a reception desk down the hall. Muffled voices were talking, but Sherlock couldn't make out what they were saying.
"She pushed me." He said after a while.
"What?"
"Evelyn pushed me out of the way. You didn't see it because Mary..." Sherlock said. "She pushed me out of the way. Then the bullet hit her."
They were silent for a moment.
"Why did she do that?" Sherlock said, his voice wavering. "Why would she put herself in danger like that?"
"Well, haven't you done the same for her before?" Mycroft asked.
Sherlock thought about when Ajay held them at gunpoint after finding the sixth Thatcher bust. He'd stepped in front of Eve without thinking.
He thought about the first time they met Moriarty, in the pool. He'd been staring at her, he remembered. It was the first time he realized how beautiful she was, standing there, close to her. Then the sniper's sight had flickered across her chest. He had pushed her behind him, trying to protect her.
Mycroft looked at the door to the operating room.
"She loves you, Sherlock." He said after a moment.
"So she's told me."
"Have you told her?" Mycroft asked.
Sherlock stood up.
"I need to call Mrs. Hudson. I suspect no one has informed her that her daughter is in the hospital." Sherlock said.
He paced in front of the door while he spoke to Mrs. Hudson. Mycroft watched him, keeping his hands folded in his lap and his face neutral. The older Holmes brother reminded himself that caring was not an advantage. He tried to ignore the sick feeling of worry in his stomach. He tried, and failed.
Sherlock got off the phone. As he brought the device away from his ear, he noticed that there was blood on his hand. He didn't know if it was Eve's or if it was Mary's. Probably both.
The operating room door finally opened and a doctor stepped out, holding a clipboard.
Sherlock stopped pacing. Mycroft stood up.
"Are you here with Evelyn Hudson?" The doctor asked.
"Yes."
"I'm Dr. Ko, the attending surgeon. When Ms. Hudson was shot, a piece of her shirt went in with the bullet, and as the EMT's assessed, the wound became infected. She coded once on the table, but I managed to extract the bullet and the fabric, and she stabilized. Ms. Hudson is still in extremely critical condition and I believe the best course of action is to put her into a coma until she can be taken off of life support, but I need written permission from a family member."
"And you think this is the best way to save her?" Sherlock asked.
"It's the only way we're going to save her." Dr. Ko said. "Is there a parent, spouse or child available to sign off on the procedure?"
"Her mother is on her way." Mycroft said.
"I'm her husband." Sherlock lied.
The doctor looked at Sherlock for a moment before handing him the clipboard and a pen.
Sherlock signed his name.
The doctor nodded at the two of them and then returned to the operating room. A while later, the sea of blue scrubs re-emerged, wheeling a comatose Eve to a room in the ICU. Sherlock caught Dr. Ko by the arm.
"When can I see her?" Sherlock asked.
"Once we've transferred her to a room, one of you can stay with her if you like." He said.
"One of us?" Mycroft sniffed.
"I'm afraid we only allow one family member to stay overnight with the patient. Otherwise visiting hours are seven to five." Dr. Ko said.
Dr. Ko excused himself, and Mycroft immediately ignored everything he'd just said in favor of following Sherlock to Evelyn's room.
By the time Eve was settled in a bed and hooked up to all the necessary machines and tubes, Mrs. Hudson had arrived.
"Oh, muffin. Oh, my sweet sweet baby." Mrs. Hudson cooed, coming to stand beside the bed.
She stroked Evelyn's hair, remembering when Eve was a little girl, and how she would do this to help her fall asleep at night when she was afraid of the dark corners of her room.
"Did they say when she'll wake up?" Mrs. Hudson asked.
"No." Sherlock said.
"Not until she's off life support." Mycroft said.
Mrs. Hudson nodded. She turned around and began ushering Sherlock to the door.
"Mrs. Hudson-" He protested.
"You can come back, dear, I just want you to go clean yourself up a bit." Mrs. Hudson said.
Sherlock leaned around her, still looking at Evelyn.
"She's not going to wake up while you're gone." Mrs. Hudson assured him. "I'll even let you be the one to stay the night. But you must go wash your hands and drink some water first. You'll feel better."
"She's right." Mycroft agreed.
Sherlock did as he was told. He watched the dried blood come off his hands and disappear down the drain.
He saw Mary's body lying on the ground. He heard John crying.
He felt Eve, limp and bleeding in his arms as he carried her to the ambulance.
Sherlock gripped the edge of the sink and bent his head down. His knuckles turned white.
This is your fault.
Sherlock slammed his fist into the sink. The physical pain was nothing in comparison to the guilt tearing him apart from the inside out.
This is your fault.
Sherlock inhaled deeply. He turned off the water. He took another breath. He walked out of the bathroom and down the hall, back to Evelyn.
Mrs. Hudson kissed Eve's forehead.
"Call me if there are any changes." She said.
"Where are you going?"
"I think I need to go round to John's." Mrs. Hudson said. "Evelyn's a fighter, always has been. She'll be okay. Besides, I watched her sleep enough when she was a baby. No use all of us staying to do that now."
Mrs. Hudson pulled Sherlock into a hug. "She'll be okay, Sherlock."
Sherlock dragged another one of the blue cushioned chairs over to the side of Eve's bed and sat down. He took her hand, brushing his thumb over her knuckles repeatedly.
"I know we've never been close, but I really would have appreciated a wedding invitation." Mycroft said after a while.
"Fuck off, Mycroft." Sherlock said.
"No." Mycroft said. "You love her."
Sherlock said nothing.
"You do." Mycroft said. "Never thought I'd see the day."
Sherlock let go of her hand and stood up. He turned away from the bed.
This is your fault.
"I nearly killed her. I always knew you had a twisted definition of love, brother, but..." Sherlock said.
"Sherlock," Mycroft leaned forward. "This wasn't your fault."
Sherlock put his hand into the pocket of his coat. His hands found the small velvet box he'd been keeping there for the last month. He'd been waiting for the right time.
The ring felt impossibly heavy, weighing him down. He dropped it back into the pocket.
"She doesn't deserve this." Sherlock said.
He stood and walked to the door.
"William Sherlock Scott Holmes." Mycroft said.
Sherlock stopped with his hand on the handle.
"That woman," Mycroft said, standing up. "Is the single best thing that has ever happened to you in your entire, silly little life. She is the only person who knows you, who puts up with you, who loves you unconditionally. If you walk away from this because you think this is your fault, you will be throwing away the most precious part of your life. So, brother mine, I say to you again - this was not your fault."
Sherlock's eyes grew glassy as the tears gathered and began to fall. His hand slipped from the door and his shoulders shook as he cried. Mycroft walked steadily over to his younger brother and pulled him into a hug. Sherlock accepted the embrace, letting his tears fall onto Mycroft's shoulder.
The two brothers stood there, hugging for the first time since they were small children, until Sherlock could cry no longer.
Neither of them ever spoke of that moment ever again, but neither of them forgot it, either.
Sherlock pulled away and wiped his eyes, pretending not to see the tears on Mycroft's face. Sherlock returned to the chair beside Evelyn.
"I'll be back to visit her tomorrow." Mycroft said before gathering his umbrella and leaving.
Eve looked small in the hospital bed. Her face was calm while she slept, but devoid of life. She lacked the sparkling personality, the intelligence, the allure Sherlock loved so much. With every beep of the heart monitor, the box in his pocket grew heavier, and the words in his head got louder and louder.
This
Is
Your
Fault .
Around four in the morning, Sherlock could no longer take it. He pressed a kiss to her hand, on her ring finger, and left.
------------------
"You've been having dreams. A recurring dream. Do you want to talk about it?" The therapist asked.
There was a pause.
"This is a two-way relationship, you know. The whole world has come crashing down around you. Everything is hopeless. Irretrievable. I know that's what you must feel. But I can only help you if you completely open yourself up to me." She said.
"That's not really my style." Sherlock said. "I need to know what to do."
"Do?"
"About Evelyn and John." Sherlock said.
------------------
Sherlock knocked on the door of John's flat. Molly answered, holding Rosie.
"I just wondered if there was anything I could do." Sherlock said.
Molly pulled a piece of paper from her pocket. "It's..it's from John."
"Right."
"You don't need to read it now." Molly said. "I'm sorry, Sherlock. He says...John said if you were to come round, asking after him, offering to help..."
"Yes?"
"He said that he'd rather have anyone but you. Anyone." Molly turned around and took Rosie back inside.
Sherlock told the taxi driver to take him to the hospital. When they arrived, however, he didn't get out of the car.
Every day, he took a taxi to the hospital. Every day, he refused to set foot inside.
He couldn't face the white walls and IVs and the heart monitor. He didn't want to see her in the bed, asleep and barely hanging on. He couldn't do it.
"221B Baker Street." He told the driver.
------------------
"Nothing will ever be the same again, will it?" Mrs. Hudson cried.
"I'm afraid it won't." Sherlock agreed.
"We'll have to rally round, I expect, do our bit. Look after little Rosie." Mrs. Hudson said.
Darwin sat by the door, still waiting for Eve to come home.
Sherlock stood up.
"I'm just going to erm...look through these things. There might be a case." He said.
"A case?" Mrs. Hudson asked. "Oh, you're not up to it, are you?"
Sherlock sat in front of the laptop, looking at his hands rather than the photo of him and Evelyn he'd set as the screen saver.
"Work is the best antidote to sorrow, Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock said.
"Yes, yes, I expect you're right." Mrs. Hudson said. "I'll make some tea, shall I?"
"Mrs. Hudson?"
"Yes, Sherlock?"
Sherlock blinked. "If you ever think I'm becoming a bit full of myself, cocky or overconfident..."
"Yes?"
"Would you just say the word 'Norbury' to me? Would you?" Sherlock asked.
"Norbury." Mrs. Hudson repeated.
"Just that. I'd be very grateful." Sherlock said.
Sherlock thumbed through some of the papers on his desk. He pulled out an envelope.
"What's this?"
"Oh, I brought that up. It was mixed up with my things." Mrs. Hudson explained.
Sherlock opened it, pulling out a DVD labeled 'Miss me?'
"Oh God, is that..." Mrs. Hudson said.
"Must be." Sherlock said. "I knew it wouldn't end like this. I knew Moriarty made plans."
Sherlock put the disc into his laptop. The screen loaded before playing the video.
Mary's face appeared on the screen.
"Thought that would get your attention." She said. "So, this is in case...in case the day comes. If you're watching this, I'm probably dead. I hope I can have an ordinary life, but who knows? Nothing is certain, nothing is written. My old life...It was full of consequences. The danger was the fun part but you can't outrun that forever. You need to remember that, so I'm giving you a case, Sherlock. Might be the hardest case of your career. When I'm gone, if I'm gone, I need you to do something for me. Save John Watson. Save him, Sherlock. Save him."