Sherlock One-Shots and Preferences

John - Fallen Warrior

Distant gunshots and explosions were heard as I ran to john, over the dry, dusty hills, over the fresh blood, and over the sand bags and over the gun casings.

Then, out of the foggy and dusty air, i see a familiar helmet with a red cross on it. One so familiar that i could never forget. My gun clatters over my shoulder, furiously bumping into my survival pack. As i slow down i grab the shoulder of my dazed friend, snapping out of the frozen comatose he was in.

"John, get the bloody hell off the battle field, you'll get hit!" I yell ducking him and I under a fort.

"But i have to fight, I've got to do it." His voice cracks and I know he won't stand a chance on the battle field. His gun is shaking and his hands are worse, i don't even know if he can pull the trigger.

A closer explosion shook the ground, and fine pebbles of dirt rain down.

"John this is an order! Get your arse back in the medical wing or I will do it for you!" I yell to him, and the information seems to sink in.

Yelling close enough to be ten feet away tells us to fall back. I know if we make a break for it its 50% 50% that we would make it alive.

Pounding footfalls shake the battle field again, and my ears are nearly blasted out when a grenade was thrown right beside us.

Something knicked my arm but i grab john and throw him towards the trenches.

"Go John go! I'll cover you!" I yell, tears burning the corner of my eyes.

"B-but Y\N!" John yells, staggering backwards. Gold bullets flash past me, and i nod, sending him on his way.

"Goodbye, love." I call and a warm tear slips down my cheek. I begin shooting my gun, making all the figures who come into view crumble to the ground.

Every gunshot i take a step backwards, until i feel a sensation.

One like I've never felt before. It has a warm tingle, but inside its tearing, ripping. Ripping me apart.

I stumble and fall backwards, my gun clattering against the powdery ground. I grab my chest, feeling the numbness taking me over. My hand slowly slipped into my pocket and brought out a grenade, with all my strength i pull the pin and chuck it forwards, where the pounding boots approach.

I reach into my breast pocket and lay my head back, bringing out a picture and holding it tight until the pain stops, the sound stops, everything stops.

I clutch a picture of my John Watson, knowing that i was but one in many fallen warriors. But only i was his fallen warrior.

:(

Guys i am really sad and i brought the sadness upon you

Sorry

-CW