Fic: An Inconvenient Shooting- Part 1
Title: An Inconvenient Shooting- Part 1
Author: ununpentium
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Wordcount: 2553
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Hamish Watson-Holmes (OC)
Read on A03
There was a distinct Christmassy feel to the air. Don’t ask John what that felt like, because he couldn’t tell you, but he just knew that Christmas was around the corner and the atmosphere was festive. He enjoyed walking along the residential streets close to Baker Street with Hamish clutching on to his hand, marvelling at the twinkling Christmas lights that people had strung up across their houses. This was Hamish’s third Christmas and he was getting increasingly excited every day that passed, babbling nonstop to Sherlock about Santa. John had given Sherlock a glare that simply said “do not spoil this for our son”.
A quiet Saturday afternoon three weeks before Christmas saw John, Sherlock and Hamish ambling through Regent’s Park, walking along the edge of the boating lake. Hamish was pointing excitedly at a flock of geese gliding peacefully across the water.
“We should start getting some Christmas presents, Sherlock. I imagine Mycroft is a hard person to buy for.”
Sherlock scrunched up his face.
“Do we have to buy him anything? Can’t I just send him a lump of coal?”
John pushed at Sherlock’s shoulder playfully with the hand that was not holding on to Hamish’s.
“No, we have to find him something proper. And for Greg. I suppose we could get them a joint present.”
Sherlock sighed, though his voice lacked any real irritation. John bent down to Hamish who was still pointing at the geese and Sherlock allowed himself to look at his little family and smile. He had never anticipated meeting someone and having a child, though now he had these things he could not imagine it being any other way.
Sherlock was just about to crouch down next to John and Hamish; he hated missing out on all of the fun, when he saw something move out of the corner of his eye. Sherlock turned his head sharply and stepped in front of John and Hamish, blocking their view. A small, haggard looking man emerged from behind the boating shed and Sherlock’s gaze immediately fixated on to the man’s right hand. He was holding a gun.
“John? Why don’t you take Hamish and see if you can find that present then, hmm?” Sherlock said in what he hoped was a calm and steady voice, still looking directly at the gun.
John stood up, smiling, reaching out to thread his arm through Sherlock’s when he noticed Sherlock’s rigid posture. He saw where Sherlock’s gaze was directed and every muscle in John’s body tensed.
“Sherlock Holmes,” the small man sneered, stepping slowly closer to Sherlock. “I have unfinished business with you.”
Sherlock glanced back over his shoulder at where John was holding tightly on to Hamish who looked visibly confused.
“John, take Hamish and run,” the urgency in Sherlock’s voice sent John’s adrenaline racing and his grip tightened on Hamish’s shoulders.
“They go no-where,” the man with the gun shouted, brandishing the gun further, a wild look in his eyes.
“Your business is with me. Let them go and we can talk,” Sherlock replied, swallowing down his fear.
“You don’t even remember me? Oh, that just takes the biscuit,” the short man started to laugh manically. Sherlock could hear Hamish whimpering behind him and he knew he needed to do something to protect his family. He stepped closer to the man, eyes roaming over his clothes, observing every detail, even down to the mud splatter on his shoes.
Oh.
“You’re Ian Matthews.” Obvious.
“Ah, finally, we’re getting somewhere. Yes, I was released from prison this morning, no thanks to you.” Ian had crept even closer to Sherlock. Sherlock could still see John and Hamish in his peripheral vision; John had almost entirely blocked Hamish from view now but held his arm out uncomfortably behind him for Hamish told hold on to, the other hand in his coat pocket.
“It was unfortunate, I agree, but you had committed a series of house burglaries and stolen some incredibly valuable items.”
“And I would have got away and started a new life in Spain had it not been for you, Sherlock,” Ian spat, taking another step closer.
“You’re not a killer, Ian. You’ve never handled a firearm in your life; you don’t want to do this. Put the gun down and we can talk properly,” Sherlock could see Ian’s hand quivering, the gun shaking along with it. Sherlock lunged for the gun as Ian raised his right hand and blindly fired, closing his eyes as his finger pressed the trigger.
Sherlock felt the impact of the bullet as it tore into his stomach. White hot pain flared outwards, shooting through his veins and he collapsed, limbs flailing. The last thing he heard was the sound of Hamish’s screams.
~*~*~
“Is Pa going to die?” Hamish peered up at John through his tears. John tightened his arms around Hamish who was sitting on John’s lap, facing him.
“I don’t know Hal. He’s having an operation. Do you know what that is?”
Hamish shook his head slowly, his brown curls painfully reminding John of Sherlock.
“It’s where the doctors need to fix someone because they have been badly hurt, or got really ill. It hurts when they fix someone, so the person has to be asleep.”
Hamish’s eyes filled with fresh tears and his bottom lip trembled.
“I don’t want Pa to be hurted,” his voice wobbled, “he, he, he looked very hurted when the nasty man made him fall over. There was red stuff everywhere, the red stuff that came out of my knee when I fell over. That really hurted and I don’t want Pa to hurt, Daddy.” Hamish buried his face in John’s chest. John fought to keep his own tears at bay; he wanted to remain strong for his son. Sherlock had been in surgery for two hours- the doctors had explained that the bullet had missed the major organs but had caused a lot of tissue damage and internal bleeding that urgently needed to be controlled.
The door to the operating theatre opened and a nurse stepped out, removing her face mask and gloves.
“How is he?” John asked urgently.
“Sherlock is being moved to intensive care. We managed to stop the bleeding, but he isn’t out of the woods yet. He needs to be carefully monitored in case he starts bleeding internally again. I’m sure you understand that with internal bleeding things can get very serious very quickly.”
John nodded gravely.
“Sherlock’s consultant will be out to talk to you soon and then you’ll be able to see Sherlock once he’s been stabilised in ICU.”
John smiled weakly at the nurse who smiled sympathetically back and walked back into the operating theatre.
John let his head fall back against the wall and closed his eyes. Sherlock was alive.
~*~*~
PART TWO
Author: ununpentium
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Wordcount: 2553
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Hamish Watson-Holmes (OC)
Read on A03
There was a distinct Christmassy feel to the air. Don’t ask John what that felt like, because he couldn’t tell you, but he just knew that Christmas was around the corner and the atmosphere was festive. He enjoyed walking along the residential streets close to Baker Street with Hamish clutching on to his hand, marvelling at the twinkling Christmas lights that people had strung up across their houses. This was Hamish’s third Christmas and he was getting increasingly excited every day that passed, babbling nonstop to Sherlock about Santa. John had given Sherlock a glare that simply said “do not spoil this for our son”.
A quiet Saturday afternoon three weeks before Christmas saw John, Sherlock and Hamish ambling through Regent’s Park, walking along the edge of the boating lake. Hamish was pointing excitedly at a flock of geese gliding peacefully across the water.
“We should start getting some Christmas presents, Sherlock. I imagine Mycroft is a hard person to buy for.”
Sherlock scrunched up his face.
“Do we have to buy him anything? Can’t I just send him a lump of coal?”
John pushed at Sherlock’s shoulder playfully with the hand that was not holding on to Hamish’s.
“No, we have to find him something proper. And for Greg. I suppose we could get them a joint present.”
Sherlock sighed, though his voice lacked any real irritation. John bent down to Hamish who was still pointing at the geese and Sherlock allowed himself to look at his little family and smile. He had never anticipated meeting someone and having a child, though now he had these things he could not imagine it being any other way.
Sherlock was just about to crouch down next to John and Hamish; he hated missing out on all of the fun, when he saw something move out of the corner of his eye. Sherlock turned his head sharply and stepped in front of John and Hamish, blocking their view. A small, haggard looking man emerged from behind the boating shed and Sherlock’s gaze immediately fixated on to the man’s right hand. He was holding a gun.
“John? Why don’t you take Hamish and see if you can find that present then, hmm?” Sherlock said in what he hoped was a calm and steady voice, still looking directly at the gun.
John stood up, smiling, reaching out to thread his arm through Sherlock’s when he noticed Sherlock’s rigid posture. He saw where Sherlock’s gaze was directed and every muscle in John’s body tensed.
“Sherlock Holmes,” the small man sneered, stepping slowly closer to Sherlock. “I have unfinished business with you.”
Sherlock glanced back over his shoulder at where John was holding tightly on to Hamish who looked visibly confused.
“John, take Hamish and run,” the urgency in Sherlock’s voice sent John’s adrenaline racing and his grip tightened on Hamish’s shoulders.
“They go no-where,” the man with the gun shouted, brandishing the gun further, a wild look in his eyes.
“Your business is with me. Let them go and we can talk,” Sherlock replied, swallowing down his fear.
“You don’t even remember me? Oh, that just takes the biscuit,” the short man started to laugh manically. Sherlock could hear Hamish whimpering behind him and he knew he needed to do something to protect his family. He stepped closer to the man, eyes roaming over his clothes, observing every detail, even down to the mud splatter on his shoes.
Oh.
“You’re Ian Matthews.” Obvious.
“Ah, finally, we’re getting somewhere. Yes, I was released from prison this morning, no thanks to you.” Ian had crept even closer to Sherlock. Sherlock could still see John and Hamish in his peripheral vision; John had almost entirely blocked Hamish from view now but held his arm out uncomfortably behind him for Hamish told hold on to, the other hand in his coat pocket.
“It was unfortunate, I agree, but you had committed a series of house burglaries and stolen some incredibly valuable items.”
“And I would have got away and started a new life in Spain had it not been for you, Sherlock,” Ian spat, taking another step closer.
“You’re not a killer, Ian. You’ve never handled a firearm in your life; you don’t want to do this. Put the gun down and we can talk properly,” Sherlock could see Ian’s hand quivering, the gun shaking along with it. Sherlock lunged for the gun as Ian raised his right hand and blindly fired, closing his eyes as his finger pressed the trigger.
Sherlock felt the impact of the bullet as it tore into his stomach. White hot pain flared outwards, shooting through his veins and he collapsed, limbs flailing. The last thing he heard was the sound of Hamish’s screams.
~*~*~
“Is Pa going to die?” Hamish peered up at John through his tears. John tightened his arms around Hamish who was sitting on John’s lap, facing him.
“I don’t know Hal. He’s having an operation. Do you know what that is?”
Hamish shook his head slowly, his brown curls painfully reminding John of Sherlock.
“It’s where the doctors need to fix someone because they have been badly hurt, or got really ill. It hurts when they fix someone, so the person has to be asleep.”
Hamish’s eyes filled with fresh tears and his bottom lip trembled.
“I don’t want Pa to be hurted,” his voice wobbled, “he, he, he looked very hurted when the nasty man made him fall over. There was red stuff everywhere, the red stuff that came out of my knee when I fell over. That really hurted and I don’t want Pa to hurt, Daddy.” Hamish buried his face in John’s chest. John fought to keep his own tears at bay; he wanted to remain strong for his son. Sherlock had been in surgery for two hours- the doctors had explained that the bullet had missed the major organs but had caused a lot of tissue damage and internal bleeding that urgently needed to be controlled.
The door to the operating theatre opened and a nurse stepped out, removing her face mask and gloves.
“How is he?” John asked urgently.
“Sherlock is being moved to intensive care. We managed to stop the bleeding, but he isn’t out of the woods yet. He needs to be carefully monitored in case he starts bleeding internally again. I’m sure you understand that with internal bleeding things can get very serious very quickly.”
John nodded gravely.
“Sherlock’s consultant will be out to talk to you soon and then you’ll be able to see Sherlock once he’s been stabilised in ICU.”
John smiled weakly at the nurse who smiled sympathetically back and walked back into the operating theatre.
John let his head fall back against the wall and closed his eyes. Sherlock was alive.
~*~*~
PART TWO