Chapter 1

Sherlock finally stood face to face with the man he had been hunting for days. Each had a gun pointing at the other, the only question, who would make the first move?

"How did you find me?" the killer demanded.

"Oh, it was simple. You left far too many clues. I've tangled with far better criminal minds than yours." Sherlock answered all the time thinking about what came next.

"You need to put that down before you get hurt" he went on.

His prey snorted "I could say the same to you"

He was right, thought Sherlock, this was a stalemate situation. Where was John, he wondered. They had entered the building together but split up to cover more ground. And what about Lestrade? Sherlock had let him know where he would find the criminal, why wasn't he there? He was always late! Typical Scotland Yard, never there when you needed them.

Then it happened. Sherlock heard the door beside him open. So did the killer. Sherlock saw him divert his attention to the door. He caught a glimpse of his best friend enter the room and then the gun shot echoed out. He saw a look of shock spread over John's face, then he staggered backwards and crumpled against the wall.

"John!" he cried out but he knew he could do nothing to help him at that moment.

Sherlock turned his attention quickly to his foe and saw him start to bring the gun back towards him. He knew he only had the advantage for a split second so he fired. The gun dropped from the killers hand and he fell to the floor. Sherlock rushed across the room. He had to secure the killers gun. Only then could he concentrate on what was important, his friend.

He heard John groan in pain "Are you OK?" he called.

He raced to John's side. There was blood, so much blood. On John's clothing, on the floor, it seemed like it was everywhere. How could John have lost this much so quickly?

"Sherlock" John's voice was weak.

Sherlock knelt down and put his hand on his friend's shoulder to try and comfort him. Just this slight touch seemed to make him wince in pain.

"I'm here John" he said "I'm right here"

John smiled. "Is it me or is it cold in here?" he joked.

Sherlock could see that John was shaking, his skin was pale but he didn't know what to do. John was the one who saved lives not him. He didn't know where to start. His friend needed him and for the first time in his life Sherlock felt utterly helpless.

Sherlock took off his coat and placed it over John's bleeding body. He didn't know if it would help but John had said he was cold so it seemed like a start. Sherlock watched as John's eyelids started to flutter.

"John! John! Open your eyes." He said desperately.

"But I'm..so..tired..Sherlock" John gasped in reply.

Sherlock knew his friend was fading. He was losing him. John was dying. What could he do?

John took one last look at Sherlock's face, sighed and then closed his eyes completely.

"JOHN!" screamed Sherlock but there was no response.

He held John's wrist, he could feel a pulse, it was faint but it was there. At least John was alive but for how long if he couldn't figure out what to do next?

Sherlock could feel himself starting to panic. His mind palace, that was the answer. That was always the answer. He just needed to concentrate and go to his mind palace. There he could calm down and find out what he needed to know.

The only problem was it wasn't working. His mind was racing and every time he heard John take a ragged breath the panic inside him rose higher. He couldn't do it, he couldn't find the answer. His best friend was dying beside him and he was just watching it happen.

He scooped John's lifeless body into his arms. "I'm sorry" he whispered "I'm so sorry"

He knew that bullet had been meant for him. It was all his fault.

Sherlock sat holding his friend for what seemed like a lifetime. In truth probably only a minute had gone by before a figure in the hallway spotted them through the open door.

"Gov, over here!" she yelled.

DI Greg Lestrade came running into the room, a look of alarm falling over his face as he took in the scene around him. He pointed to the body on the floor "Check him out" he said to DS Donovan "and call for an ambulance"

Whilst Donovan did as she was told Lestrade bent down by Sherlock. "Sherlock" he said quietly but got no response.

"Sherlock" he said again. Still nothing.

Sherlock was oblivious to everything happening around him he just kept muttering "I'm sorry John. It should have been me."

"SHERLOCK!" Lestrade yelled. Finally Sherlock looked up at him startled. "I need you to let me have a look at John, OK?" he said gently.

Sherlock loosened his grip on his best friend and watched as Lestrade carefully lay him back against the wall.

"John can you hear me?" He gave John's cheek a gentle slap but got no response. Lestrade checked John's pulse and his breathing. They were faint and shallow but there. He pulled Sherlock's coat back a little to see the wound. It was still bleeding badly. He took off his own jacket rolled it up and pressed it hard against the wound desperate to stop the flow of blood. Sherlock flinched as he saw John screw his face up from the pain but at least there was a reaction.

"Where's that ambulance?" Lestrade called in frustration.

"It's on its way Gov" Donovan answered.

"Well do something useful Donovan and go outside and wait for it, make sure they don't get lost." Donovan rushed outside. She was glad to be out of that room if she was honest. She always thought of Sherlock as a freak but to see him looking so distraught was just too weird.

Sherlock held gently to his friend's wrist gaining a little comfort from the rhythm of his pulse, weak but still going.

He could hear Lestrade quietly telling John to stay with them even though John looked like he'd already gone. Sherlock had never felt so scared in all his life. What if John didn't make it? What would he do without him?

Sherlock had always felt that it was easier to be alone and that feelings just complicated matters but he suddenly realised that when John had become his friend he had let his guard down. Right now he wished he hadn't. If this was what having friends was like then he didn't want it. It hurt too much.