[Sherlolly fanfiction] Silhouettes

Chapter 14-- Remember

(JOHN'S POV)

I have the horrible feelings I'd experienced when he got shot.
It's a feeling of hollowness.
I am not scared, nor sad, I am hollow. It is as if my mind does not have the bravery or strength to be upset or scared.
The world just turns and moves whilst I stand back and watch it do so.

The only thing I can so is pray that, when I do finally see them, a cover won't be over their faces.

Soon, a doctor approaches me.
He tells me that neither of them are conscious yet.
Molly's pulse had disappeared, but they've managed to find one again, whereas there's still nothing for Sherlock.
He reassures that they won't give up on him, that they'll keep on trying.
I listen to his voice; I listen to him drip-feed me information. All of his words are manipulated so the impact is less painful, but it is not. Nothing in the English vocabulary can soften the blow of 'your best friend's heart has stopped'.
As he wraps up his final sentence, I see it as my opportunity to speak. Though, I merely croak; my voice can barely be heard to myself. "....can I see him?"
"We're still trying to bring him around. You can see him when we've done what we need to."
I know he's picked those words in case he doesn't wake. I do not speak for a moment. I merely replay images of sinister defibrillation.
I then realise that I have not spoken for more than thirty seconds, more than 'normal'. I regain eye contact with the doctor before I attempt to speak again. "And Molly?"
"She's not woken yet, she's still unconscious. We expect she'll come around in the next few days, three at the most."
My eyes are sore; I'm straining them just to stay awake.
I feel as long as I'm awake, Sherlock is too.
I am determined not to drop my eyelids.
The doctor can see the upset in me. As a comfort, he suggests for me to visit Molly.
I nod, no longer able to speak.
I know Sherlock loves her, he'll want me to check up on her until he's awake again.
**
She has a gash stretching from her temple to top of her hairline which has been stitched and covered. I can see she has a broken collarbone and a broken arm.
It gets to the point, I cannot bare to see her injuries. I stop cataloging them and I sit by her bed.

She looks as if she's in a peaceful sleep.
Her breathing is a little wheezy, but at least she is breathing.

"Molly," I say, my voice struggling, "please, wake up. He needs you....Sherlock needs you. Don't forget him, god, don't forget him." I close my eyes and place my head in my hands. "Oh....Sherlock." I whisper. "Oh, God...." I can no longer look at her without knowing how distraught she would be if she woke to find Sherlock dead.
I control my breathing, concentrating my eyes on one square of the tiled floor. "I thought he couldn't love, but apparently he can. He sees you as an equal, believe it or not, and that is an honour within itself. You need to wake up, to prove to him it's worth coming back....because I worried that just me won't be enough to bring him back." My breath catches my throat, so I have to cough to try to stop my upset. I purse my lips and bring my head up, inhaling as I look at her again.

She's just asleep,
merely asleep.

"If there's anyone Sherlock truly needs, it's you. Don't forget about him, please, don't forget about Sherlock." I utter, tears beginning to gather on the rim on my eyes.

I can hear her heart beating on the monitor, though it sounds lazy, almost forced. It sounds as if it could stop any moment.

I lean forwards and out my hand on top of hers.
She's so cold, dead almost.

I kiss her forehead, "Remember him." I say as I straighten my back and exit the room, rejoining onto the corridor once again.

He needs you, Sherlock needs you. Don't forget him,
don't forget him.
If there's anyone Sherlock truly needs,
it's you.
Don't forget about him,
please,
don't forget about Sherlock.