A/N: Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at /works/358004 around March.
Disclaimer: Just playing in someone else's sandbox.
His hands shook.
He had never been this scared in his life.
He almost dropped the gun, but slipped it into the holster instead.
"Sherlock." John said, panting a little. Sherlock watched as John rolled away from the very dead man who held him earlier, threatening to shoot him with a gun. "Sherlock…"
Sherlock had come in the nick of time.
Sherlock tried to talk the kidnapper out of it, but he would not budge. John gestured at him to shoot.
Sherlock shook his head. No clear shot John, I will hit you.
Do it. John urged. I trust you.
The man fell. So had John.
Sherlock's hands shook. He was scared. And he was worried.
"John." He ran to the fallen man. Blood pooled on the floor.
John smiled in spite of himself. "I hope the man doesn't have any diseases. I'm getting soaked with his blood."
"I called Greg. They're coming. They sent an ambulance in." Sherlock said, placing a hand gently on John's shoulder. He pressed his jacket against it in an effort to staunch the bleeding. "You're going to be okay."
"Stop fussing Sherlock, it's not like I've never been shot before." John grinned, and winced. The doctor's white shirt has turned scarlet red. Sherlock wasn't sure how much of it was John's.
Sherlock inspected the shirt. "I did it clean. Through and through. I didn't hit anything vital."
John grinned. "Good - " he grunted, and shifted a little "-shot, then."
"I'm sorry." Sherlock's hand still shook as he tended to the wound. "I'm sorry. Had to stop him. There was no opening." Sherlock breathed slowly, trying to get his...everything, in check. "He would have killed more. He would have killed you."
John almost laughed. "I told you to do it. Don't worry about - ah, wait, fuck that hurts - it." John winced. "Sherlock, how long until Greg arrives?"
"Five minutes. Stay with me, John." Sherlock swallowed. "Come on John."
"Oh stop it, Sherlock." John said, and he smiled at Sherlock. "I'm not going to die. I'm just going to close my eyes a little. Lost some amount of blood, my heart pumping fast from adrenaline not…" Silence.
"Shit. John! John… come on John…" Sherlock's heart sped up more, if it was possible, and he prepared to administer resuscitation.
"What? Sherlock…" John opened his eyes. "Enough. Can't speak anymore. It's starting to hurt." He grimaced. "How long until they arrive?"
The two heard hurried footsteps, and Sherlock looked up. Greg ran towards them with two EMTs. "Finally. I shot John."
Greg stopped. "What?"
"I had no choice - just go and help him, will you!" Sherlock huffed, and moved away from John.
"I'll be fine!" John said a little feebly. "Just follow to St. Bart's." The EMTs carried him away.
Sherlock nodded, and stood up. "I'm going with you."
Greg made a move to stop Sherlock, but thought twice about it and just shook his head. "Expect a call from me. I need your statement."
Sherlock didn't answer. He was already off to follow John.