No Holmes Should Be Without Their Watson:
Six months had passed as John recovered agonisingly slowly.
Sherlock didn't want to know details after being instructed to leave, despising his better judgement. He only wanted to know when John was returning. Then he could focus.
This meant he hadn't known about the wound becoming infected, the infection spreading and forcing John into a coma.
It was secretly heartbreaking for the elder Holmes to keep his little brother in the dark, but he forced Sherlock to take cases and keep himself distracted. Though of course the first two months Sherlock plainly refused to eat, sleep or take cases provided. Only playing beautiful yet meloncholic music mourning for John, the compositions roamed through the fabric of the walls and length of Baker Street.
In Sherlock's mind he would see John coming through 221B's door any second to hug him, kiss him and never leave to that war ridden desert ever again. He begged his mind to delete the image of John when Sherlock had first arrived but after three weeks of nothing and being manhandled home eventually Sherlock took Mycroft's advice and restarted work.
Lestrade had seen the obvious change in Sherlock stoic presence once returning to the precint now and again. Anderson and Donovan were silent most of the time, not portaying their usual selves despite Lestrade's warnings. The pair barely saying a word to Sherlock actually annoyed him thoroughly, "Why are you just standing there? Make yourself useful besides pretending to work!" The Detective snapped at Sally's pitying eyes after finishing another case.
"Lestrade," Sherlock bounded his way into the DI's office "Yes?" "Give me any case you have, I don't care about scale or the fact no-one has a brain in their head here" Greg could just hold off his saddest expression long enough for Sherlock to leave, he was under order of Mycroft - after a surprise kidnapping and bribery, 'Does this man have morals?' Greg thought to himself once being escorted home - to keep Sherlock busy, he wasn't informed why but the less he knew the better, apparently.
Another four months had past and all was dreadfully quiet in 221B. Sherlock sulked in his large leather chair. He drifted away into sleep without wanting to as he hadn't properly rested or taken care of himself since his return. His dream seemed too good to be true, he was finishing a crime scene and walking home alone. The sound a three-patterned footsteps followed him. Sherlock kept his cool to see how long his 'stalker' would follow. It turns out all the way to Baker Street. Sherlock had had enough and hurled himself at the stranger, "Male, recent army service with several fresh and raw injuries-" "And a Husband who seems to thinking attacking someone is a great way to say 'Hello'" The voice couldn't be real but to Sherlock it was heaven "John? My John?" "Yes, Sherlock" John's body was still hidden in that shadows "Don't leave me again" "I'm not back yet" Sherlock could have cried "Stop taking so long to get back to me. I need you here" Sherlock complained resting against John's left shoulder, a groan of pain escaped John, "Shoulder, Sherlock" "Yes I know-" Sherlock froze as a bullet burst through John's head and shoulder, the shadow bled out on him "JOHN!"
"John!" Sherlock woke himself up shouting, collapsed onto the floor curled beside the red chair his faithful husband would alway sit on. "Hoo Hoo" Mrs. Hudson came in, "Sherlock, dear. Are you in?" "Mrs. Hudson?" Sherlock popped his head over the arm rest, his mind bleary from sleeping "I've made you some fresh tea, and you'll be happy about the mail" "Mail?" "Here you are, I'll leave the tea on your table over there, just this once, I'm not your housekeeper"
Sherlock paid no attention to her dribbles and carefully analyzed the paper
*Neat but hands were shaking, nerves? Unlikely, this person is ambidextrous but uses the right hand more often unless this person has sustained and injury. Address written perfectly as if-*
"No it can't be... Doctor's handwriting, swivelled like he usually would but he's- He's alright. John. You're awake!"
Dear Sherlock,
I apologise for the quality of hand writing you are reading but my injuries left more damage than I originally thought.
I'm awake, only have been for a week by the time you get this. I wasn't wasting any time the moment I could move and function properly. I miss you like you wouldn't believe. I was told you were here. I hated the fact of you seeing me like that. I'll explain everything once I get back.
I instructed this letter to be sent the day after I leave. I'm on my way home.
I love you.
Yours, John Watson-Holmes.
Sherlock practically wept. Never would he tell John but he was sure his other half knew. Minutes later after composing himself, his phone buzzed.
-He is currently taking an aeroplane home. Dr. Watson will be arriving at 16:48PM tonight. Arrivals Section A. Mycroft Holmes-
-Only I am to pick him up and take him home, where he is safe. SH-
With no reply and the time being 14:16PM Sherlock could tidy up the falt and little and look his best for his husband. Clenching the dog tags and wedding ring that lay above his heart, for the first time in nearly a year, Sherlock smiled. It felt strange, but a good strange.
With an hour and a half to go Sherlock was already bouncing with excitement. Deciding to leave now, the lanky man nearly crashed into the DI. "Not now Lestrade. I have to be somewhere, with much higher importance than your thieves" "No, I know. I was instructed to take you to the airport" "Good. Let's go. Come on" Greg had to grin at Sherlock's child-like nature. Whoever this "John" was, he certainly made an impressive impact on Sherlock's life. "Gavin, we need to move!" Sherlock whined as he waited impatiently.
Arriving at the airport with still twenty minutes to go Sherlock dashed of leaving Greg in the dust. There was no point in calling him so, taking a light jog to find Sherlock twitching like made as the final ten minutes ticked by.
"Where are you?" Sherlock mumbled to himself as passengers made their way through checkout, Sherlock was suddenly panicking, thinking he'd missed him but Lestrade kept a firm grip on his shoulder repeatedly saying "You're not exactly hard to miss. He'll see you" "Shh. Three impacts instead of two, the steady pace suggests egerness- John" Greg barely comprehended a word that left his younger before once again he was off. Greg noted he swirved out of the way and nearly toppled a smaller man with a walking stick off his feet.
Sherlock wasted no time getting to John. Hugging him for all his worth, John could only grunt as the wind was knocked out of him, his duffle bag dropped with a loud thud "John. John. My John" Sherlock repeated himself countless times as John relaxing and held his husband the best he could given his cane and the sling holding his left arm. "Don't ever scare me like that, ever again" Exaggerating his last two words Sherlock's head dipped onto John's right shoulder. "It's alright. I'm OK now. I'm alive, just wounded"
Sherlock squeezed a little tighter earning a sliver of a groan "Lungs, Sherlock" "Sorry, I just... needed that" "I know. Me too. Who's that?" Sherlock had completely forgotten Lestrade even being there. Swiping up John's bag and taking a slightly slower pace Sherlock introduced them "Geoff Lestrade, John Watson-Holmes" "It's Greg, good to meet you. Glad you're back" "Good to meet you too. Sorry if he's been out of sorts" "Anyone would react the same way. I work in Scotland Yard, I'll be assigning his cases so we'll see each other more often" "That should be interesting. You were Sherlock's ride here no doubt" "Yeah. I'll happily take you both back home" "If it's not too much to ask" "Can you not be selfless for one second. That's how you ended up like this" "I'm a Doctor, it's what comes second nature to me, Sherlock" "Remind me to kick that out of you" "Not a chance"
During the car ride Greg watched as Sherlock held John close, "Shoulder wound, it ruined the back of your shoulder, the physchosomatic limp should leave once you've healed up properly and I take you out on cases. We'll deal with your PTSD as it comes" "Thanks, Sherl. How's Mrs. Hudson keeping" "Fine, I think. I haven't been paying attention" "Next time, for me, yeah?" "I'll try" Leaning on Sherlock John acted as if electrocuted "When was the last time you ate or slept for that matter" Sherlock didn't answer, pretending to be a pouting child after a scolding "I slept earlier today but I'm not sure how long, as for food..." "Oh my God, Greg can I ask you a favour?" "Yeah?" "If and when I'm not around or in the flat, shove food down his throat" Greg chuckled "Sure thing" "In return I'll accompany him on cases, keep him right"
Sherlock lit up, "Donovan doesn't believe you're real. Guess you can prove her wrong" "Am I a ghost?" "The construct of paranormal elements are only-" "Sherlock, please. Save it, I've heard enough explanations to last me a week, I want to sleep in an actual bed tonight, let my shoulder heal a bit more then I'll want to hear everything" "Fine. Doesn't mean I won't stop talking" "That's fine too. Oh. I have been involved in to going to therapy, yes or no, should I go?" "No. Whoever they send you to will be an idiot" "Everyone is, compared to you. I'm going to rest my eyes a few minutes, keep talking though, need to hear your voice" John dozed off minutes later to Sherlock's voice, talking about his compositons that he played while awaiting word of his return. Sherlock wrapped his hand around John's wrist allowing himself to love every pulse theat beat through his fingers.
Arriving home Sherlock roused John gently the two carefully moved up the seventeen steps after an eternal hug from Mrs. Hudson. John felt like he was actually home. He couldn't wait to run around London again but not just yet. He asked Sherlock to give him nine days then he would be back to his regular health. They ate Chinese take-out, to both, it tasted amazing.
Climbing into bed John and Sherlock could properly relax with each other. Sherlock tangled himself around John. "My John. No going anywhere I can't protect or follow, is that clear?" "Yes Sir" John joked as Sherlock completely tensed up "Please don't call me that" "Alright. I can't tell you how comfortable I am, Sherlock" "I'm right here if you need anything" "Sherlock?" "Yeah?" "Never go off the rails again" "Promise" "I won't be going anywhere this time to let you, you know. I made a vow, 'No Holmes should ever be without their Watson'. Remember that?" "I always do. That's what made you leaving me so hard" "Well you're stuck with me now. Night" Pressing a kiss to John's tan temple Sherlock listened to John's REM sleeping and whispered to John "No Watson should ever be alone"
