Sherlock is going to get shot at some point in the future. It won’t be fatal, and Sherlock will be fully conscious when John gets to him. John will drop to his knees and Sherlock will ready himself for the doctorly tone and exasperated wisecracks, as is their stock in trade. What Sherlock won’t be prepared for is the sheer panic written on John’s face, the terror in his voice as he takes Sherlock’s face in his shaking hands, presses his forehead against Sherlock’s, and breathes, “Not you too, not you, please. Not you. Please not you. Please.” And Sherlock will be taken aback at first, uncomprehending in the presence of such an uncharacteristic display of fear in his blogger, but he’ll understand after a moment, after a minute of having his face held so tightly as to border on pain, of John gasping out trembling breaths and pleas and “not you”’s. And Sherlock will reach up and put a steadying hand on John’s shoulder, crack a smile, and ask, “Where did my Doctor Watson go?” And John will blink, close his eyes, and his breathing will even out. Then he’ll huff out a shaky laugh and open his eyes. He’ll lean forward and press a kiss to Sherlock’s forehead. “Sorry, I guess he stepped out for a minute.” They’ll giggle until Sherlock winces in pain and John will hum an apology as he starts applying pressure to the wound.
When the paramedics get there, they’ll find two men looking much too unbothered by the current circumstances. Sherlock will be lifted into the ambulance, and John won’t have to fight them to get in as well. The matching wedding rings will be enough of an explanation.
