Rough Draft of Sherlock Fanfic (Not sure if I want to continue it)
John staggered forward, trying to keep up with the doctors and nurses pushing Mary’s hospital bed down a seemingly long hallway. Mary looked like she was falling asleep; her head lolling from side to side, her eyes barely open. She was deathly pale by now, her breathing low and slow.
“What’s happening?” John demanded, staying close by her side, taking her limp hand in his.
One of the nurses gave him a weary look. “The baby, she doesn’t want to come out. Your wife is bleeding internally, it’s suffocating her. We need to get the baby out immediately.”
John looked down at Mary, horror stricken. “What about my wife?”
The nurse shook her head. “I’m sorry, we don’t know right now.” They suddenly pushed the hospital bed into another room, one he recognized all too clearly, the same nurse gently placing a hand on John’s chest to keep him from entering. “I’m sorry sir, you’re going to have to wait outside.”
With that, the nurse disappeared into the room, the double doors closing behind her.
Sherlock was playing a tune on his violin when he heard the faint buzz of his phone, muffled by the couch cushions. He had thrown his phone onto the couch when he saw no text messages indicating a case moments ago, grabbing his violin from its case and hoisting it under his chin, the bow already in his other hand, ready to play.
He ignored the continued buzzing, too lost in his music. Whatever it was, it had to wait. He was composing.
Suddenly, there was a knock at his door. He groaned inwardly. The door opened a crack and without having to turn around, Sherlock knew exactly who it was.
He turned his head slightly, just enough to making sure the other person could hear him speak. “Busy.”
“Sherlock,” Mrs. Hudson started, her voice small.
Sherlock turned fully around, setting his violin in its case while whipping its bow in front of him, gesturing for her to leave.
“Mrs. Hudson, I said I was-“
The words died on his lips. John? He hadn’t spoken to him in ages. Was he the one who called him? Obviously. But why call Mrs. Hudson? Something important apparently. Sherlock glanced at the clock. Just after one o’clock in the morning. Something felt wrong. John wouldn’t call this late at night, definitely wouldn’t have called Mrs. Hudson when he didn’t pick up, not unless something was wrong.
Sherlock set the bow on top of his violin and gingerly took the phone from Mrs. Hudson. She gave him a pained expression and brought both her hands close to her chest. He pressed the phone close to his ear, glancing once to Mrs. Hudson.
His words were firm. Not shaken or wobbly. Sherlock could tell by the way he said it that he was clenching his jaw.
Sherlock knew of only one thing he could do at this moment. “Where are you?” he asked, already reaching for his coat on the hanger.
Please for crying out loud, continue this!!! You can’t leave us at such a horrible cliffhanger! There’s so much potential in this, please continue~
- me: *at school*
- friend: omg i stayed up so late last night
- me: what time did you stay up till?
- friend: 11 pm!
- me: *looks into the camera like Jim from the Office*