Old story of mine now Beta´d and packed into 1 chapter. Thanks Guinevere81!

~oOo~

"Come on John we´re losing him"

Sherlock dashed after the suspect, with John only mere meters behind.

"Coming" John shouted back through the rain.

Suddenly the man in front turned around and raised a gun ready to fire. Without thinking Sherlock ducked away while the shot rang out.

Only seconds later Sherlock continued the chase. It took him several meters to realize that he could not hear John´s steady footsteps behind him anymore. Why had John stopped? Surely he knows than to stop in the middle of chase just because he is tired.

"Come on there is a time for a break later when we…" Sherlock turned his head around and came to a sudden halt.

There on the pavement lay John, unmoving. The suspect completely forgotten Sherlock staggered forward in the direction of his only friend. Noticing the blood pooling besides Johns head he stopped again.

"Oh god no… please no…"

The likelihood of surviving a shot to the head was minimal. John was dead and it was his fault. John who had always trusted Sherlock´s lead. John who, only moments before, was running directly behind him and therefore couldn´t see the suspect. By ducking away Sherlock cleared the path for the bullet. John was shot without a chance to react. His John who would always take a bullet to protect others was killed because he, the clever Sherlock Holmes, stepped away to clear the path.

Realising his fatal mistake his legs gave out under him and he found himself sitting on the pavement unable to form a clear thought anymore.

~oOo~

The suspect took a flight and once again Sherlock and John dashed after him before Lestrade could coordinate the next necessary steps with the surrounding officers. God how he hated it when they did that. But as this was not a new scenario to DI Lestrade he had long since established a permanent link to his phone (with the help and permission of Mycroft of course) which allowed him to trace Sherlock´s mobile 24/7.

For the last couple of minutes Sherlock´s position hadn´t changed. Hence there were two possible scenarios. Either Sherlock had lost his phone during the chase or they got the suspect and were now waiting for him to arrest him. Lestrade hoped for the latter.

Catching up with Sherlock and John Lestrade was shaken by the horrific sight that met his eyes. John was clearly knocked out and Sherlock was not helping him but sat approximately 10 meters away on the pavement, shaking. Prioritising the unconscious, Lestrade rushed to John while simultaneously calling for an ambulance.

"Oh shit! Don´t let him be dead." He thought as he approached John. Kneeling beside him he searched for a pulse on his neck and let out a long breath of relief when he found a steady rhythm beneath his fingers. On closer examination he could see that John had suffered a heavily bleeding grazing shot to the left side of his head. Not immediately fatal than but it could still be a serve injury with possible concussion and brain swelling and internal hemorrhaging. Adding the cold and wet pavement he lay on in the middle of February, the ambulance couldn´t arrive soon enough.

After stripping his jacket off he put it over John´s rapidly cooling body.

"Sherlock can you give me your coat? We need to keep John warm till the ambulance arrives." Lestrade shouted over his shoulder.

"Sherlock! What is the matter with you?"

Lestrade let his gaze settle on Sherlock. The frown on his forehead deepened when he didn`t get an answer. Sherlock was clearly distressed and not responding but he couldn`t see any obvious injury so he would have to wait.

"John? John, can you hear me?" turning his focus back to John Lestrade leaned over him as he tried to bring him back to consciousness.

~oOo~

Gosh, did his head hurt. Why did his head hurt? And it was freezing. To be more precise it was wet and freezing.

"John?"

That was his name. Was there someone calling him? Who? Why? What?

Coming slowly to consciousness John was hit by a wave of nausea when he tried to open his eyes. Several deep breaths later he tried again and was greeted by a very concerned looking Lestrade.

"Hi there. Good to see you awake. You scared the hell out of me John." Lestrade stared, babbling "The ambulance should be here in no time to take you to a nice, clean and warm bed in the hospital."

"Mmhh…ccold…"

"Yes John. Just try to stay awake for me. Can you do that?"

"…head hurts"

"Yes, yes I would say that is to be expected when getting shot to the head"

Oh great, that explained quite a lot. But where was Sherlock? He should be at his side. Was he shot too? John tried to sit up fighting the rising panic.

"Easy, mate. You surely shouldn´t move." Lestrade tried to push him back.

"Shsherlock?" John slurred slightly, his teeth were shattering. Still he tried to push himself up again to better survey the area and to look for Sherlock. Surely he must be here somewhere.

Sensing his determination Lestrade helped John into a sitting position "Alright John. Just take it easy. Sherlock is sitting right over there."

~oOo~

"What´s wrong with him?" John asked, taking in Sherlock form. He was clearly distressed and unconsciously muttering under his breath.

"I don´t know. He´s sitting like this since I arrived. But he doesn´t seem to be injured." Lestrade replied following John´s gaze.

"Check on him." John reached a hand to his head and winced as it made contact with the wound.

Lestrade shot him a worrying glance, clearly hesitant to leave him.

"I am fine." John said. Seeing the sceptical look Lestrade gave him he added "Or at least I will be."

"Yeah, you better be, you are the only one who can handle the mad man."

"Would you please just go over there and check on him." Undoing his scarf John used it to apply pressure to the still heavily bleeding wound. Why do head wounds always have to be this messy?

Sending John a concerned look Lestrade walked over to Sherlock. Where was the fucking ambulance? How long could it take for them to arrive? They were in the middle of the city for Christ´s sake and not somewhere lost in the countryside.

Kneeling in front of Sherlock Lestrade put a hand on his shoulder.

"Sherlock what´s wrong." Again he got no response whatsoever from the man in front of him.

"Sherlock look at me." Lestrade said while he shook Sherlock´s shoulder slightly.

"John I think he is in shock. He is not responding. What should I do?"

Jesus, why would he be in shock? They had handled far more dangerous situation. Sherlock was shot at on a regular basis. And they both had their fair share of injuries during the years.

~oOo~

Someone was talking to him. He knew the voice. Lestrade´s, wasn´t it? It didn´t matter. Nothing mattered anymore. John was dead because of him. The bullet that was meant for him, killed John instead. He should have stayed exactly where he was and just have taken it. Instead he stepped aside and with that killed his only friend.

Suddenly he became aware that he would not be able to cope. Not if he was to blame. He would never be able to handle the loss of John Watson. By killing John the bullet has killed him even so.

~oOo~

Seeing that Lestrade didn´t get anywhere with Sherlock the doctor in John took over and he staggered carefully to his feet. He slowly tried to make his way to Sherlock but a wave of vertigo hit him.

Seeing this coming Lestrade rushed to John´s side and prevented him from keeling over. Nevertheless the motion was too much for John to handle and doubled over, vomiting violently on the pavement.

"Damn concussion." John groaned when he was finished. "Help me get over to him."

"Seriously John I really don't think you should move."

"Fine." John replied as he tried to move without the help of the detective in the direction of Sherlock.

"God you really are a stubborn fellow." Greg muttered as he tried to help John getting safe and sound to his friend.

Reaching Sherlock John was relieved to sit down again. His world was still spinning dangerously.

"Sherlock?" he asked anxiously.

Reaching one hand out he let it run shortly through Sherlock´s curls before he grabbed his chin and gently lifted his head up.

After an endless seeming moment Sherlock´s eyes finally focused on Johns face. There was still a look of utter defeat in them.

"John…?" he uttered disbelieving. How could it be John sitting in front of him? John was dead, wasn´t he?

Sherlock let his gaze glide over the pale face of his friend. Concussed and cold, but not dead. Head wound, yes. But not as bad as he´d thought. Stupid! He should have checked to be sure. Why hasn´t he checked?

"Oh… " A thought dawned on John. "You thought I was dead, didn´t you?" Johns face softened.

"You stupid git. You didn´t even think you should check on me to see if you´re assumption was right. Because the clever Sherlock Holmes is always right and never guesses." John chuckled. "So let me tell you this, mister. You were wrong. And there will always be a time when your assumptions are wrong but you will still have me around to tell you so."

"John." The relief expressed in that one word was almost tangible. "John you´re, I…"

"What Sherlock?"

"I uhm I´m sorry" Sherlock stuttered.

"Yeah you better be letting me lie there all alone on the pavement."

"No that´s not, that´s not what I meant. I am sorry for stepping aside."

"What?" John shared a confused look with Lestrade.

"The bullet, John. It was meant for me. I ducked away and you got shot."

"So what?" John exhaled. "You think you should just have letting yourself get shot. You really are an idiot sometimes. What good would that have done?"

"You wouldn´t have been shot."

"Yeah well, who knows. Anyway last time you were dead I didn´t cope so well so I think I should be thanking you that you kept yourself safe this time. But let me tell you this, if you ever let yourself get shot at just because you think it is safer for me I will be very shirty, understood?"

~oOo~

Thanks for reading. Reviews are most welcome.