A/N TRIGGER WARNING Attempted suicide. Edited 01/06/16

SHERLOCKS POV

"Stay with me Sherlock!" I could hear John shouting at me. His concerned voice was cutting through the fog that filled my mind. I could faintly hear other people talking, bags being unzipped and machines being turned on. John was holding my hand, his warmth cutting through the cold that was taking over my body.

'He must be covered in blood' I thought as I felt his hand being ripped from mine.

"I'm right here Sherlock! Hang on!" He wasn't supposed to find me. That wasn't the plan. He was never supposed to find out. Mycroft promised. John was supposed to live his life with Mary, assuming I had gone on some mission for Mycroft.

"I'm so sorry John." I whispered as I felt my mind fade to blackness.

JOHNS POV

"I'm so sorry John." Sherlock's words echoed through my mind as I sat in the waiting room of the hospital. They had taken him into surgery, hoping to repair the slashed veins. Why would he do this?

"John?" I looked up to see Mary standing in front of me, concern in her eyes. "John what happened? Are you hurt?" Why would she ask that? I looked down and saw the blood staining my hands and shirt.

I was covered in Sherlock's blood.

I shook my head.

"Thank god. What happened?" Why does she care? She doesn't really care about him does she?

"Sherlock-" my voice cracked as I spoke. "He tried to-" I can't say it. "He cut his-" If I don't say it, it isn't real.

"John." She figured it out. "Why would he do that?" That was the question that had been pounding through my head since I found him.

"I don't know." She hugged me, but it felt wrong. I never felt that spark with her that I felt when I touched Sherlock. My mind floated back to a few weeks ago, when we had kissed. We had been drinking and it just kind of happened. It felt so right. If Mary hadn't been pregnant I would have left her on the spot. But I grew up without both parents. And I wouldn't make my child live like that. I told him that we could never be together; that I wouldn't leave Mary.

"John?" A new voice pulled me from my thoughts. I looked up to see Mycroft standing there. He looked older than I had ever seen him look before. His eyes were red, almost as though he had been crying.

"Hello Mycroft." We didn't speak for a while. There really wasn't much to say.

"John I need to tell you something." He glared at Mary. "Privately, Mrs. Watson, if you don't mind." I opened my mouth to object but Mary nodded and walked away before I could.

"What Mycroft? What is so important?" I snapped. The man I love was dying and Mycroft wanted to chat.

"Thank you for finding him." What? Mycroft was thanking me? I looked up at him in shock. Tears were running down his face as he crumbled before me. "He didn't want you to find out. He wanted me to tell you he had gone on some mission for me." He knew. Sherlock had told him.

"Why?" I whispered, voice cracking once again.

"I'm sorry?"

"Why would he do this? Why did he want to die?"

"He didn't want to hurt you anymore."

"Hurt me? How does he think he was hurting me?"

"I don't know John. He wouldn't tell me. He was convinced that this was for the best."

I killed my best friend. I broke down. I rejected him, assuming that he would brush it off like he brushed off everything. How could I not see how much it hurt him?

"I can't lose him Mycroft." I heard the words fall from my mouth before I could stop them. He nodded and grabbed me in a hug. We stood there, crying into each other's shoulders. "I love him so much Mycroft. I can't do this without him." I mumbled into his shoulder. The first time I had said these words out loud, and Sherlock may never hear them.

"I know John. I know." We parted in time to see the doctor leaving the operating room.

"Mr. Holmes?"

"Yes."

"Your brother's condition is stable. We were able to repair the damage to his wrists and are going to keep monitoring his condition through the night."

"Can we see him?" I asked, not even really sure if I could handle seeing him right now.

"Yes. The nurse will be able to tell you which room he is in."

"Thank you, Doctor." Mycroft muttered before rushing off to find a nurse. I stood there, relief flooding my veins. He survived. I could fix this. I could tell him how I feel.

"John?" Mary's voice cut through my thoughts. "Mycroft told me. Are you going to talk to him?" I had to tell her. I couldn't do this to Sherlock again.

"Mary. We need to talk."

SHERLOCKS POV

The consistent beeping of monitors pulled me from the darkness. I smelled the traditional overly clean scent that permeated hospitals.

I had failed.

But why am I in a hospital? My plan was foolproof. Mrs. Hudson was away and John wouldn't be by.

John.

Oh god! He found me. He knew.

"Sherlock," My brother's voice cut through my thoughts. Something about his voice pulled me farther out of unconsciousness. I started to feel a stabbing pain in my wrists.

"Why am I here?" My voice was scratchy from disuse.

"John found you."

"How did he find me?"

"I don't know."

"Don't lie to me Mycroft."

"I'm not Sherlock. I have no idea why he came to the flat." I started to blink, trying to adjust to the bright lights. "But I'm glad he did." I looked at my older brother in shock. Tears were streaming from his eyes.

"What?" Why did he care if I lived or not?

"I am glad your plan failed Sherlock. I can't imagine living knowing that you had been hurting that much and I had done nothing to stop it. I love you little brother." Tears were falling from my own eyes now.

"I love you to Mycroft." I whispered.

"Sherlock" The voice I had fallen so deeply for. The voice I had wished to hear just one last time.

John.

"Excuse me. I believe you both have a lot to discuss." Mycroft left the room, leaving me and John alone. The tension in the air so thick you could practically grab a handful of it.

"John-"

"No." John's breaking voice cut me off. "No, Sherlock. I don't want to hear any excuses. I have some things that I need to say and you are going to shut up and listen." His voice was harsh, firm, and hurt. I nodded and stared at the ceiling. He inhaled deeply and walked closer to me. He was close enough that I could smell him. He had such a distinct scent. "I am so sorry, Sherlock." What? "I am so, so sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"Because Sherlock, I hurt you." Please God no. He figured it out. "I hurt you and I never wanted to." John was crying now. I wanted to grab him and hold him, but the scars on my wrists limited any movement.

"You were happy with Mary and I almost ruined it. I had to leave you and her alone. I couldn't live without you. So I decided I wouldn't."

"Mary is gone." These words cut through every defence I had placed. Hope started peeking through.

"What?"

"She is gone. I told her I don't love her and that I had to be with you. She knew. She had known for a while. She will get the papers and handle everything." He sat on the bed beside me, cupping my face in his hands. "I love you, Sherlock Holmes. And I will never leave you like that again." He leaned down and pressed his lips against mine. It felt so right; so perfect. John was mine. And now we could start to heal together.

"I love you too, John Watson."

Z\pw*

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