Sherlock held your arm in his, his hand clutched at your stomach as you stumble, blood seeping through the fabric of your dress. Your breathing is labored and shaky, sweat soaking your body. He quickly set you down, ripping open your dress top and applying pressure directly on your wound.

Stay calm. Stay calm. He said sternly, blood starting to stain his hands. He had already called for John Watson, knowing they’ll only be a minute. He looked at you. Just keep breathing. You can do it.