Papa and I are coming to get you

John Watson could tell you the exact days he was scared. The days his heart stopped in his chest, but he remained alive, frozen in terror. Those were the worst days of his life. Today, was one of those days.

John Hamish Watson was in his office at work when his life came crashing down. It had been a good day, the sun was shining and the patients minimal. John had even remembered to make anniversary plans with his husband of 7 years, Sherlock Holmes. Thank god he had such a wise daughter, otherwise he may have never realized his feelings for the man he now had as his. Thank god he had such a wise daughter.

"John! John!" a nurse cries flinging his door open. John jumps, startled from his chair. The woman scrambles wildly and turns on the telly, it really had been such a good day….

BREAKING NEWS: ACTIVE SHOOTER IN BAKER HIGH SCHOOL

Johns heart stops. He freezes. And then he springs into action.

He runs straight out of his office, sprinting down the hall faster than ever before in his life. He swings himself into a cab when his phone rings a familiar tone, Sherlock.

He answers instantly and is greeted with detached words:
"I'm on site, Mycroft is here with Lestrande. I'm going in," Sherlock snaps with anger not towards John.

"Sherlock! You wait a bloody moment, okay? I will be there in exactly 42 seconds," John hisses in warning. Sherlock releases a growl of frustration.

"No time John!" However, John hears a sharp intake of breath and a ringtone invading their connected call, it could only be Rosie.

Sherlock accepts the call and their daughters voice fills their collective silence.

"Papa! There's a man in the school with a gun! He's killing people! Papa, help me please!" She cries desperately.

"Rosamund Mary Watson, I need you to collect yourself. You are in shock and you are going to snap out of it," Sherlock demands. There is sniffling on the other line as Rosie reigns in her emotions.

"Very good darling," Sherlock praises. John finally arrives on scene and is running across the lawn toward a group of police cars and a tent.

"I'm here," John says with double meaning. He hears Rosie sniffle again.

"Daddy?" She asks, voice cracking a bit. John feels a stab, Rosie had grown out of that name for him around 10 years old. He hadn't heard it in 6 years.

"Yes baby, I'm here. Papa and I are coming to get you," he promises shoving through officers, Lestrande spots him and goes to help. After being allowed through, Lestrande hurries John over to the tent. Sherlock is already there analyzing blueprints of the building.

"Okay," Rosie squeaks. John and Sherlock both freeze at the sound of gunshots through the speakers of their phones.

"Where are you right now?" Sherlock demands.

"Music room, I was in class when it started. Papa, I think he's entering the corridor!" Rosie weeps. Sherlock locates the correct map and begins instructing while running into the active building. He hears multiple protests behind him but can also feel both John and Lestrande's presence as they too follow.

"Rose, gather all the students in the room with you. Tell me exactly what is in the room," Sherlock whispers sliding through the main doors. The band room was on the other side of the building, chances of being caught at the front were slim.

"Umm, a lot of chairs and stands. Instruments big and small. Backpacks and bleachers. Oh! A lot of filing cabinets too," Rosie lists. Sherlock processes the information while slinking along the walls of the building. As he nears the corridor he draws his gun from his waistband. John and Lestrande follow close, having already done the same.

"Okay darling, listen closely. Take all of the chairs you can and block the doors. Stack them high and wide, okay? Use Instruments too, only the large ones. Then, I noticed an attached office. Go inside and pull the bleachers in front of the door. Once inside use the cabinets and backpacks to block that door too. Your dad and I will be with you in a moment, but I need you to do exactly as I have instructed. Am I clear?" Sherlock demands. He hears rustling as she moves.

"Yes, Papa," She says having settled. Sherlock freezes at the final turn.

"Darling, this is the hard part now. I am going to disconnect the call. You will be fine. I will see you in a moment. I love you," Sherlock whispers disconnecting the call. He quickly snatches Johns mobile as well and ends his too.

"What the bloody hell was that, Sh-" John whispers heatidly. Sherlock stops him with a chaste kiss and pushes him back into Lestrande before literally jumping out into the corridor.

"Stop. Right. There," Sherlock seethes at the man before him. Both have their guns drawn on one another.

Early twenties, bottle blonde hair, still lives with parents, no pets, low class, no intimate relationships, untrained, unstable, murderer, definitely clinically psychotic.

"Place the gun on the ground, make any other move and I will not hesitate to kill you," Sherlock promises. Then man turns his dead grey eyes on Sherlock. Having successfully diverted his attention from the band room entrance, Sherlock fires. The man, as expected fires too. A force hits Sherlock from the side, throwing him right. John.

They land in a heap, John on top of Sherlock.

"John!" Sherlock gasps rolling the man over. Johns eyes glare at him.

"Of all the stupidest, inconsiderate, bloody insane plans William Sherlock Scott Holmes-Watson!" John bellows rising to his feet. Sherlock releases a breath in realization that John hadn't been hit.

"Oh, for gods sake John. I took precautions," Sherlock mumbles. John only has a moment to witness a look of pure shock before Sherlocks hands roughly throw him into the opposing wall. Another gunshot rings out, there had been a second shooter.

John doesn't process, he just acts.

He fires three precise shots. Two at center mass and one through the skull. The gunman didn't stand a chance.

"Sherlock!" John cries scrambling over to his husband. Sherlock stares at the ceiling above him, eyes clouded in pain. John's hands shake as he feels around Sherlocks chest, his extremely solid chest.

"Oh, you arse Sherlock Holmes!" John exclaims ripping a few buttons to expose the smashed bullet clinging to the vest Sherlock had slipped on. A police issued bullet proof vest.

"My insistence," Lestrande offers pulling Sherlock to his feet.

"You didn't mention how much it'd sting," Sherlock gasped. Lestrande chuckled and pulled Sherlocks shoulder until the taller man was leaning forward, relieving the pressure in his chest.

"Ch-check the rest of the building, I hadn't factored in more than one shooter," Sherlock admits. Lestrande nods and briskly walks away, phone in hand.

"Rosie-" John mumbles rushing towards the broken band door.

Sherlock loosens the vest he wears and helps John to climb into the room. Sherlock feels a well of pride at the handiwork their daughter accomplished. Everything was done exactly as he instructed.

"Rosie!" John yells struggling to pull the bleachers away from the final door.

"Dad?" They hear a muffled response.

"It's safe now darling, Papa and I are here to take you home," John says finally pushing the bleachers aside. Sherlock reaches for the door handle to find it too was locked.

"Oh for gods sake," he says in annoyance of yet another obstacle. His plan worked a little too well it seemed.

Analyzing the age of the knob combined with the rust, Sherlock grabbed what appeared to be a part of a flute and smashed it down against the knob, effectively knocking it clean out. By the time this was accomplished, the students had moved the cabinets so that finally the door would open.

"Dad! Papa!" Rose cried throwing her arms around them. The men hold her close and move away so the other children could come out as well.

"Alright," Sherlock announces disentangling his daughter from him, "everyone listen closely."

Sherlock instructs the students to file into a line and remain together. They were to keep their eyes directly on the person in front of them. They were not to stop, not to look around and not to make a sound. After his speech Sherlock dialed Lestrande to be certain it was clear before they all came out.

"Finally," Sherlock adds in after thought, "everyone keep your hands firmly on the back of your head."

They file out, only 20 people including John and Sherlock. For the most part, the children listened to Sherlocks instruction. Rosie, however, did not entirely.

"You shot him," Rosie stated to her dad. John's head snapped up to his daughter who was being examined by the medics.

"And you didn't listen to your Papa," John responds. Rosie looks down.

"I knew him," she says quietly. John stares her down for a moment, questions brewing.

"He was in my class. I never thought he'd-" she sniffs.

Sherlock goes over to Rosie and gently cups her cheek in his hand, he looks at her face until her eyes meet his.

"There are good people and there are those who need help. There are no inherently bad people, Rosie, just those society chooses to ignore until it is too late," Sherlock says before adding his final words on the matter, "it was not your fault."

Rosie wanted to believe her Papa, he was afterall the smartest man in London. However, his words unsettled her. Surely there really were people who were simply bad… right?

She didn't dwell on the matter much longer, she was safe with her dad and papa. They saved her.

Rosie's Uncle Mycroft wanted to move Rosie to a different school, a "safer" one. However, Rosie refused. Baker High School lost 13 students that day, Rosie had known them all. She wasn't particularly close with them, but the idea of "abandoning" them made her decision to stay final.

The men who stole their lives were James Goldsmith and Aaron Holding. Goldsmith was the first man Sherlock encountered, he had been fired as a teacher at the school a few years ago but the death of his wife and child is what sent him off. Aaron Holding was recruited by Goldsmith, he attended the school and was Goldsmith's inside man. Now, they too were dead.