Each second that you spent without an update on Sherlock felt like an eternity. You paced up and down the halls of the small waiting room you'd been told to wait in. It had been hours and still no nurse, doctor, or anyone from the hospital staff had come to update you. You knew that was both good news and bad news. Good news because each second they didn't round that hall together, Sherlock was still alive, but bad news because that meant his condition still wasn't stable. They needed all hands on deck.
"Y/n..." John looked at you as you rounded back towards him, your gaze on the floor. You looked up at him teary eyed, seeing he was giving you a worried look. He stood making his way over to you. "Why don't you go wash up." He gestured to your hands that were still coated with Sherlock's blood. You looked down at them, more tears returning to your eyes. You nodded, making your way towards the bathroom.
As you watched the blood filter down the drain you began to cry, not able to hold it in. Sherlock lying on the floor, blood steadily leaving his wound came back to your mind. It was your fault, you had let him go off to the left and go into that room. You should be the one in surgery, not him. After you partially got yourself together, you returned to John, who patted the seat next to him. You reluctantly sat, wiping your hand across your face.
"It's not your fault." John told you. You shook your head turning away from him as he spoke. "It's not your fault and don't sit here blaming yourself. Sherlock is going to be okay."
"I let him go to the left. I let him-"
"Stop it. Stop it right now. You had no control over what happened, okay? Now how about we go get you a guest room so you can get some sleep?" John questioned. You shook your head at that. You wouldn't be able to sleep thinking about Sherlock back in that operating room. You couldn't be there to help him, so sleeping wasn't a consideration at this point. John sighed, looking down at you. "Okay, then I'm getting some rest. Let me know if you need anything." John placed his hand over yours, squeezing it before he walked away. You couldn't fathom how he could even think of getting any sleep. It was beyond you.
After he left, you got back up, continuing your pacing for who knows how long. You finally took a seat in one of the chairs after your legs were physically about to collapse. You buried your face into your hands, anxiety tearing through your body. You didn't know what you'd do if you couldn't apologize to Sherlock once more, to tell him how much you cared about him, and forgive him for all the stupid things he'd done. You needed him to know that you forgave him. You were still upset he hadn't talked to you but now that this situation had arisen you couldn't be mad at him. He was right about you not being able to act like you weren't a couple around Janine. She would've found out. And you were sure if you made another plan you wouldn't have been able to do it fast enough. You saw that it'd been basically the only option Sherlock had.
"Dr Y/l/n?" You stood as you saw a man in scrubs approaching you as he pulled off his scrub cap. He must be one of the doctors that operated on Sherlock. You scanned him quickly, sighing in relief when you saw he didn't bear bad news. Sherlock was still alive. "It was a long battle, but we finally got him stable. If that bullet was just a millimeter lower, he would've died." You looked at the surgeon, thankful for what he'd done, but did he really have to tell you how close Sherlock had been to dying? You brushed it off, just thankful Sherlock was alive.
"Thank you. Is it alright if I go back to his room?" You questioned, looking down the hallway from where the surgeon had come.
"Of course, but there's a few things you'll need to know." He told you as he began leading you down the hall.
What you learned from the surgeon was Sherlock had coded during surgery. His heart had stopped and they spent forever trying to restart the mechanical process of Sherlock's heart before they finally started to give up, all their efforts weren't working. But then, just as they were giving up, Sherlock's heart started beating on it's own. A miracle the surgeon said. They finished repairing his internal injuries and stopped the bleeding. It was a long and very tricky surgery, but they'd done it. Sherlock had defied all odds. He'd fought for his life.
The surgeon was kind enough to lead you to Sherlock's room, where he finally told you that he hadn't woken up yet, and he hopefully would by morning. They'd run more tests, just to make sure everything was going alright. He then told you to make sure you didn't try to wake Sherlock, as he needed his rest after the huge surgery. You nodded in understanding. You once again thanked the surgeon before making yourself comfortable in a chair next to Sherlock's bed. He looked so broken and small lying in the hospital bed. You took his hand carefully in yours, rubbing your thumb across it.
You hated hospitals. They were always a memory of the things they had taken from you, but right now, you were thankful. This hospital had given you Sherlock back. That was enough to make them okay in your book.
You spent the rest of the night at Sherlock's side, thanking the nurses when they came to administer Sherlock's meds or make sure you were doing okay. Sherlock hadn't woken up yet, but you felt hopeful he would soon. You eventually fell asleep, with your head resting on Sherlock's bed and his right hand clasped in yours.
You awoke the next morning, the sound of Sherlock grunting in pain quickly alerting your brain to wake up.
"Sherlock?!" You questioned, still half asleep as you looked around the room, before your eyes settled on Sherlock who was right in front of you. John was also sitting in the room, jumping up as he heard Sherlock as well.
"Marry." He groaned, shaking his head. You furrowed your eyebrows at him, glancing around the room. Mary? You looked up to John who laughed, before hurrying to get a nurse or doctor to inform them Sherlock was awake.
"Sherlock?" You again questioned. His eyes blinked open as you leaned over him. He squinted as the sun was shining directly from behind his bed and through the blinds. "Hey, can you hear me?" You questioned, lightly stroking a finger down his cheek.
"Blinds." He squinted. You nodded, leaning further over him to close the blinds. Once they were closed Sherlock seemed to relax more as he looked around the room, figuring out what had happened. He looked to his side where his IV drip was. He blinked, scanning the room before his eyes landed on your face again.
"Hey." He looked up at you, not making much sense as he was all drugged up. You laughed, squeezing his hand in yours as he smiled up at you.
"Hey. You pulled through." You held both of his hands in yours as he continued to silently glance around the room. He then looked down at your hands, looking back up at you. "Mary? What do you need from Mary?" You questioned him, with a sideways smile.
"No, Marry, Y/N." He told you, his eyes studying your face. "My coat." He told you. You glanced over to his coat, handing it to him. He grunted in pain as he dug through his pockets pulling out the engagement ring. "You said you wanted me to propose properly. I would get down on one knee, but-" You stared at him and he looked up at you, his face changing. "Y/n?"
"Of course, Sherlock! Of course I'll marry you. I've done a lot of thinking, while you were in surgery and I've decided I can't live without you." You told him cheesily, a cheeky grin on your face as you looked down at him. You realized you couldn't stay mad at him forever, besides without him who would take you along on all the fun cases?
"Oh, that's revolting." He groaned as he adjusted himself in the bed. "Here." He reached for your hand and you placed it in his as he slipped the ring onto your finger. You looked down at, tears coming to your eyes as you looked back up again.
"You're not out of the woods yet, just so you know." You told him.
"I know." He smiled, squeezing your hand in his.
"I totally love you." You told him, just to remind him. Even though you were still upset and needed explanations from Sherlock, didn't mean you weren't head over heels in love with him.
"Oh, you're on a roll today with the cheeky comments. Was it my near death experience?" Sherlock chuckled.
"Just shut up so I can kiss you, Sherl." You joked. He laughed, slowly wrapping his arm around your neck pulling you in for a kiss. You smiled into the kiss, pulling away slowly, your lips parted.
"I hated that nickname." He laughed deeply, shaking his head at you.
"I know. And Mike? God that one got me." You and Sherlock laughed together before he settled back into the bed. You helped him get comfy and he sighed, just looking up at you with these bright eyes with a soft smile on his face.
Suddenly a nurse came in and you stood, stepping aside, knowing they'd need to do more exams on Sherlock. You gave Sherlock a wave, telling him you'd be back as you walked from the room to let the nurses do their job. You took this opportunity to go on a small walk and stretch your legs a bit. You couldn't hide your smile as you kept looking down at the ring and the way it sparkled on your finger.
The hospital was quiet in the early morning, not many people were buzzing about as you walked through the halls. You waved at John as you passed him. He was talking on the phone to who you could only assume was Mary. He gave you a wave back, before he turned to look down the stairwell as he spoke. You looped around the floor a couple more times before you were ready to hopefully get some more sleep. Maybe you could find somewhere to lay down while Sherlock rested some more. He was going to need all the rest he could get.
When you approached the room again you saw Janine sitting on the edge of Sherlock's bed.
"Who the hell let her in there?" You turned towards a nurse's station before you barged through the door. "What the hell are you doing here?" You questioned, looking over at the newspaper articles Janine had brought with her. Of course she'd sold fake news to all sorts of different papers and made tons off of it, she only ever cared about money.
"Oh, just stopping to say goodbye." She spoke. You narrowed your eyes at her, ready to pounce at any second. "What are you doing here?" She questioned, as if surprised to see you in Sherlock's hospital room. She really was an idiot. You laughed at her, shaking your head.
"Janine, you obviously read the papers. Me and Sherlock are dating- actually I'm his fiancé." You held up your hand towards her showing her your diamond ring. She looked at it before slowly nodding.
"You really are a bastard, aren't you?" Janine shook her head at Sherlock, as she stood from her spot, collecting her things.
"Goodbye, money craving whore." You glared at her as she walked out of the room and you shut the door firmly behind her as she walked out. You cleared your throat at Sherlock's smirk. "Shut up." You told him, knowing he knew you hated her. You'd been jealous of her when Sherlock had dumped you, but now it was her turn to be jealous. You got Sherlock in the end and she didn't. That's all that mattered. Sherlock groaned in pain, shifting uncomfortably under his sheets. You hurried to his side, looking over his tabs.
"Did she fiddle with your morphine? That bitch." You shook your head, fixing Sherlock's dosages so he'd be more comfortable. "I have a feeling she might be a reoccurring problem. What was she doing here anyway?"
Sherlock smiled at that. "Telling me how idiotic I was, how mad she was so she sold fake news to the press, complaining I wouldn't 'do' anything with her." Sherlock summed it up.
"I can't believe she didn't realize anything. I still have stuff in your flat." You chuckled, still fidgeting with the machines.
"Y/n, I need to tell you something." Sherlock grabbed your hand as you were fixing all his IV's and heart monitors.
"Can it wait a bit? You need more rest, Sherlock." You told him. He looked exhausted, but a bit calmer now that the morphine was back into his system.
"It's about my shooter." You wanted to know what had happened to Sherlock, but you knew he needed to conserve his energy more. He could tell you once he got more rest. You'd be able to find his shooter and give them the beating they deserved after Sherlock slept.
"Tell me after you've had more rest." He shot you a look that told you, you needed to know now, but you again told him he needed more rest. Finally, when he knew you weren't giving up anytime soon, he gave in.
You rested in a chair in the corner of the room while Sherlock slept. You tried working on some stuff for work, but your head wasn't in the right place. You couldn't focus with Sherlock attached to all those machines right next to you.
Mary and John came in later, paying their visits briefly. Mary looked really concerned, which struck you as rather odd. She kept looking at you like any second you would say something no one should know. You ignored it, just assuming she was worried about Sherlock. Worry did weird things to people sometimes, you learned.
"Lestrade's stopping by for an interview later tonight, he's going to try to get some more information on what happened." John told you after Mary had left.
"I'm not sure if he'll get anything, the most sense he was making was this morning, now, not so much. It's the increased dose of morphine." You told him, glancing over at Sherlock's sleeping form
"I know, but it's worth a try." John nodded. "And congratulations, by the way. I see Sherlock properly proposed." He gestured towards your hand and you smiled.
"Yeah. He did." You nodded. He gave you a smile before leaving to head back to Mary to keep her company. John knew Sherlock would be fine as long as you were there.
As the evening began to come closer, Sherlock woke up again, fiddling with his morphine tabs. You glanced at the drip, seeing he'd turned it down. You were glad he was feeling better if he was turning the drip down, but you weren't so sure going off the look on his face.
"You okay?" You questioned, looking up from a file you'd been trying to finish for the last thirty minutes. You just kept losing your train of thought the more you stared down at its pages.
"Mary, Y/n." He reached his arm towards a button on the side of his bed and sat himself up as he looked over at you. You furrowed your eyebrows at him.
"Yes? She's a living and breathing human, what is your extreme interest all of the sudden?"
"She shot me." He told you deadpan. You stared at him in silence, the file that was sat in your lap sliding onto the floor. You took a shaky breath, things seeming to add up in your head. That's why she knew so much about stuff she shouldn't, and why she was acting so weird when she'd come to visit Sherlock.
"What? And you're trying to protect her?" You questioned, feeling anger slowly rising towards her. She'd shot Sherlock. She almost killed him. But something told you Mary wouldn't just do that. You knew she was truly your friend.
"It's more complicated than that. She could've simply killed me, but she didn't. I need your help to get her to confess to John." He told you, swinging his legs around and off the hospital bed. He began to push himself up and you hurried to stop him.
"Sherlock, you're not leaving this room." You scolded him. He was crazy if he thought it was even a remotely good idea to leave the hospital in his condition. Any complications could arise any moment then he might actually die.
"Yes, I am. And if you won't help me, I'm doing it myself." He grunted, grabbing onto his IV cart as he slowly pushed himself to his feet. His stance wavered and you grabbed his arm, letting him transfer his weight onto you as you wrapped it around your shoulder.
"Oh, god. Can't we just do it here?" You breathed, shifting under his weight.
"No, she won't confess to him. We need to trick her." He grunted, taking a shaky step. You sighed, knowing Sherlock had planned this out and he wasn't going to change his mind. You were either going to help him, or let him do it alone. And you weren't about to let him do it alone and just let him waltz away with the possibility of him dying.
"Okay, okay, just calm down a minute. Let's get some of these wires off of you before you go around willy nilly. We need to talk about this plan for just two seconds." You told him, grunting as he put all of his weight onto your side.
"No. Time." He grunted, taking another step forward. You sighed, doing your best to remove some of his wires and cords with one hand.
"You know without your medications you're going to be in intense pain, Sherlock." You told him. He nodded in understanding before telling you to remove his IV. You looked at him nervously, before you did as he said, wrapping a bandage around it once it was removed. You helped Sherlock escape the hospital, but you complained about it the entire way back to the flat where he wanted to go to change. He filled you in on his entire plan on the way.