HOLLY IS EVIL (but gooooood)
       John is an ordinary human being, nothing more than a regular doctor with regular training. He is not magic, and he does not believe in it. He sees Seb drop, so suddenly and completely he knows it is not a wound, not a bullet, not anything they couldâve seen coming or stopped. He is just John Watson, and he doesnât believe in souls or fate. So he cannot explain how itâs his own fluttering pulse that sends him pushing into Sebâs neck, fingers digging hard into the carotid because it canât be this still, finding the pulse there twitching, not beating, not the reassuring solid la-dub, la-dub that he falls asleep to every night. There is nothing but a weak thing rolling beneath the heel of his hand, and itâs only been seconds, itâs soon enough for John to strike Sebâs chest, once, hard, fast. Cardiac medicine without a defibrillator. Not recommended but no time, no time now, no time in the sand and the heat, no time in the fog and drizzle, not with Sebâs heart floundering beneath one hand, clenched in a fist now, hard and fast chest presses, rescue breaths, free hand fumbling with his mobile â itâs V-Fib, yes for Christâs sake Iâm a doctor, Iâm performing CPR, Christ hurry heâs â
           âPlease, Iâm a doctor, Iâm his--â but he canât say Iâm his doctor, Seb would kill him for saying something like that (Iâm not the posh git who needs a personal doctor, stop fucking making me him and John would press his hands and lips and teeth anywhere Seb would let him, I wasnât doing that I wasnât). The medic is still looking at him expectantly, and it hangs in the air, âIâm his--â boyfriend? If he said that Seb might actually sit up and sock him one, so he briefly considers it. Partner? Friend? God. She finally rolls her eyes and motions for John to climb in alongside Seb, swings the doors shut and Johnâs hand finds Sebâs, and itâs soft and clammy. He wants to drop it for how much it doesnât feel like Seb, warm and unyielding. But he clings to it and hauls in shuddering breaths that shake apart on the exhale.
           He nearly climbs atop the gurney to keep Sebâs hand in his but itâs an impractical need, to keep clutching him so he wonât let go. The doctors need to work and John is shown outside, ushered into a waiting room and it is entirely still and silent, only his own heart racing in his ears, pounding out fight, god damn it, Seb, fight.
           âFor Sebastian Moran?â John is the only one in the room, of course heâs for Sebastian Moran â he raises his head and sees it in her face, the careful breathing, the crinkles in her forehead, deduces it (leave me alone god you left me alone). âYeah. Me.â and he watches her mouth move without hearing, you did everything you could John they did everything they could but it was too late he only ever had 5 minutes from when he dropped. She has stopped and is looking at him questioningly. He shakes his head. âSorry, what?â She lays a hand on his forearm, Introduction to Consoling Loved Ones, and repeats. âWhat relation are you to Mr. Moran?â
           John swallows his tears, his anger, the thing that tastes like Sebâs blood on the back of his tongue. âIâm his--, well, Iâm his.â And she cannot move fast enough to catch him when his leg gives out.
