You're in Sherlock (Sherlock × Reader)

The Lying Detective: Chapter 5

After Sherlock had gotten admitted into a hospital room and was well taken care of, you were ordered to get another check-in on the baby, just to make sure your extreme stress hadn't harmed anything. Everything came out looking fine and you felt a relief wash over you that Sherlock would soon be okay and so was your baby.

You were still pretty angry with John, though. You understood his frustration and his anger, but there was no reason he should have pounded down on Sherlock the way he did after you were sobbing for him to stop. His rage had taken over. You hoped he was sorry, that he lived with the fact he could've killed Sherlock and felt guilty about it.

Then you felt bad for wanting that, because John was your friend and he shouldn't live with heavy guilt like that. Sherlock thought he deserved it... no one deserved getting beaten like he had. He still hadn't woken up since he quite literally passed out in your arms.

The nurses explained there was no permanent damage done, and this was simply Sherlock's body trying to rest up and heal itself. You knew that, but you just wished you could've talked to him before... well before everything was about to go down.

You slowly made your way to Sherlock's room, knowing John would probably be showing up soon to say goodbye after he finished up all the police interviews with Lestrade.

Sherlock had predicted how John would react weeks ago, and you'd helped him. You were still shocked at how fast everything had happened, you weren't really expecting everything to play out like it had, but you knew that it would all be over soon. Tonight. You told yourself.

As you pushed open the hospital door, you couldn't help but have flashbacks to all the times Sherlock had put himself in harm's way in the past. If he outlived every stupid thing that had happened in his past, he could live through this. He would live through this. That was the plan... but sometimes plans could go wrong. You tried not to think about this as you leaned against the door, pushing it closed under your weight.

The hospital room was sad. That's the only word you could use to describe it. It was larger than your average hospital room, and extremely bare. Everything was muted colors and there wasn't any furniture in the room other than a chair or two. The hospital bed and equipment was centered in the room off to your left.

Sherlock laid on his back, motionless. You studied him from afar, he looked peaceful asleep, like the worries and stress of life couldn't reach him now. You rubbed a hand over your stomach as the baby kicked softly, as if sensing the sadness that was creeping up on you.

You took small steps towards the bed, pulling up a chair to sit next to him. He'd gotten fixed up while you were also getting checked up on.

The cut on his eyebrow was stitched, and his mouth and nose were no longer bleeding. His face was scattered with dark bruises and the other minor cuts he had gotten were scabbing up.

You took his hand in yours, squeezing it tight. You were scared something might go wrong with what Sherlock had planned, but you knew you couldn't dwell on it or you could ruin the plan yourself. You needed to get to work.

"I love you, Sherlock... and if you even try dying on me, you know like not near death because you've already done that to yourself, but actually dying, I will personally kick your arse myself." You spoke softly. You waited for Sherlock to wake up and tell you that if he were dead, you couldn't kick his arse and argue your statements, but he stayed sleeping. His face slack and emotionless.

You took a deep and shaking breath as you leaned forward to kiss him gently on the cheek. You then pushed yourself to a stand, making your way towards Sherlock's IV bag.

At the moment, it was filled with Morphine, but you needed to switch that out so there was no way Smith could overdose him. You and Sherlock had thought ahead for this.