15

                                    

                                          
*Greg's POV*
                          
The whole world seemed to stop when I realised the gun was being aimed at me. A million questions raced through my mind. Why me? Why now? What is the purpose of this assassination? Will I survive? Will I see Mycroft again? 
                          
Will I be able to tell him how I feel?
                          
The moment Sherlock tackled the stranger to the ground, hope and relief washed through my body like a waterfall. I thought that Sherlock had done it - he saved my life. I thought that I owed him one. But then Eddie's face tells me otherwise. It was full of so many emotions all at once - horror, sadness, shock and grief. I knew that it was all too good to be true. I looked down towards my shoulder, suddenly noticing red liquid pouring through a small hole in my blazer jacket. I couldn't feel a thing. The adrenaline was tricking my body into thinking that I was absolutely fine. It's funny how your body can deceive you. The shock seems to make me fall to the ground. It's almost as if it's in slow motion. Eddie tries to reach out for me. The criminal escapes the scene, with Irene following. Irene. Sherlock begins to run over.
                          
"Stay awake Greg! Everything is going to be just fine." I remember Eddie kept on repeating, mainly to himself, whilst keeping pressure on my wound. I tried to comfort him with a smile, but the pain began to sink in, and all of my senses seemed to stop functioning.
                          
Is this my end? That's what kept running through my mind. But I haven't accomplished anything yet. Is my life going to be meaningless?
                          
_______________________________________
                          
My eyes begin to open slowly. The unfamiliar surroundings are blurry, and it sends a bolt of anxiety to my stomach. Where am I? I roll my head, trying to figure out where I am. My blurred eyes can only pick up white. White surrounds my vision, but a shadow is cast in the middle. A figure? The sound of a constant, repeated beep echoes throughout my ears. It's sounds so excruciatingly loud, and I wish that it can stop. 
                          
My senses begin to declutter. 
                          
I'm in a private hospital room. I'm lying down in a pristine white bed, with far too many duvets for one person, and I'm hooked up to an IV. I look towards the shadowy figure that is beside me, only to have relief and happiness fill my entire body. Mycroft. He's here, sleeping. He's sat on his chair, his head leaning forward against his chest, and lightly snoring. His hand is linked with mine. A weak smile forms on my lips. He looks so adorable when he's like that. I squeeze his hand gently, and this seems to make him jolt awake immediately.
                          
"Greg. You're awake!" He says happily, his voice thick with sleep. He looks so relieved, and it makes my heart wrench. He leans over me and places a long, chaste kiss on my forehead. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there. I'm so sorry this happened to you. Im-"
                          
"Myc. Stop blaming yourself. It's not your fault." I whisper, and he nods his head, his eyes squeezed shut to stop his tears from rolling down his face. He sits back down in his chair, his grip on my hand becoming firmer than before. "How come you're here? Aren't you meant to still be at work?" I ask, and a sad smile forms on his lips. 
                          
"Work can wait." Butterflies flap through my stomach. I can't believe he just said that. He just said that I was more important that his work. His work is everything to him. Does that mean... I am everything to him? "Besides, I couldn't be apart from you. Not again." He whispers and it makes my heart wrench. I squeeze his hand lovingly. We were apart for 10 years. Never again. We've been through too much and there are too many emotions tied to one another. I don't think either of us could survive without the other. 
                          
"What happened Myc? Who was that man who shot me?" I whisper curiously, and I can tell that he knows the answer. Of course he knows the bloody answer. He's the bloody government! But, I can also tell by the way he looks down at his lap that it's a sensitive subject for him. Why though?
                          
"You were shot by a man named Luke Evans. It appears that he was working for Jim Moriarty." He whispers coldly and the mention of Jim's name. My body tenses. Jim Moriarty wanted me dead? Still wants me dead? 
                          
"Jim Moriarty wants me dead. Because I'm leading the investigation?" I ask frantically, the tension inside my body becoming too much the handle.
                          
"That's...part of it. He seems to know that you and Eddie know about his plan to steal the crown jewels. He needed you eliminated before you could write it in a formal report and fight against him." He whispers soothingly, trying to calm me down. Somehow it kind of works.
                          
"How does he know? I haven't told anyone about what we found out. I haven't told anyone about the person tipping us with the information. Unless..."
                          
"Eddie." Mycroft interrupts and my body fills with different emotions. Eddie...betrayed me? But who on earth would he have told that would have told Jim Moriarty? Wait...
                          
"Eddie told Sherlock." I state monotonously. Mycroft nods in a agreement. 
                          
"Sherlock knows where Jim Moriarty is."
                          
Hey guys. A really short chapter but it's getting the storyline moving along. And oh no Greg and Mycroft know about Sherlock betraying them. I wonder what will happen? ;D
                          
I hope you enjoyed this update!
                          
-darcie