John walked into the apartment after a long day at the surgery only to hear several gunshots ring out.
It's probably Sherlock. Nothing to worry about. Now I just need a nice cup of tea and-
"SHERLOCK! Are you alright?"
Sherlock was standing calmly, clutching his arm, blood running down in a thick stream.
"Sherlock! What happened?"
"I know you're an idiot but really, I thought I had taught you something! Obviously, I got shot."
"Yes Sherlock" an exasperated John sighed, obviously it couldn't be too bad, Sherlock was behaving like his normal self, "I can see that. But how did it happen?"
"Well, a bullet from a gun seems to have lodged itself into my arm- really John, it's plainly visible!"
"Yes Sherlock, I know, but how? What were you- Sherlock!"
The man had opened his mouth to reply but his eyes had rolled to the back of his head and fallen to the ground with a loud thud. John rushed over. He knew how it felt to be shot and it wasn't pleasant. His training as a doctor had also taught him what someone looked like when they desperately needed to be taken to hospital- and Sherlock was demonstrating this now.
"Shit, Sherlock! Shit! Why do you do such stupid things!" John hurried to grab his phone from his shirt pocket, hands fumbling a little as he undid the button. He called an ambulance- they would be here in ten minutes.
John knew Sherlock couldn't stay unconscious for that long. His extensive medical training and expertise as a surgeon had shown John just what he needed to do in these circumstances. He crouched down next to Sherlock and ripped a thin strip of fabric from the bottom of Sherlock's shirt briefly thinking how Sherlock would berate him after for doing it. Serves him right, thought John. This is his fault afterall. and tied it tightly around the man's arm, just above where he was shot.
There was a deep hole in Sherlock's thin bicep but thankfully the bullet hadn't gone in with enough force to pierce the other side. After some time this wound would heal and all that would be left is a scar.
The bullet's lodged in there. This is going to be painful for him. Well at least now he knows what will happen if he goes around shooting the wall!
John knew that he needed to revitalize Sherlock, just in case his body shut down. He rolled the man onto his side, into the recovery position and started to slap the man between the shoulder blades. After a few minutes John knew more than to continue and decided to wait for the ambulance, when the proper equipment came. He tried just a few more slaps and was rewarded with a weak
"ow. John, I'm awake"
Thank goodness! John thought, but slapped Sherlock a few more times as revenge for worrying him.
"Oh Sherlock! You're alright- well more or less, now you have to stay with me ok?"
"John I will always stay with you."
"Ok that's the spirit! Now keep those eyes open, look at me, talk to me! What's your name?
"Sherlock Holmes"
"Where do you live?"
"221B Baker street"
"right well you don't have any memory loss, so it looks like you just lost a lot of blood. The ambulance is on its way" John tried a weak smile, he was relieved that Sherlock was alright but still angry that he had shot himself in the first place.
"I don't want the ambulance."
"No? Well I do. I'm sorry Sherlock but you shot yourself and now you have to live with going to the hospital." The hospital was like prison to Sherlock, and John knew that. All the monitoring, all of the rules Sherlock had to obey, the procedures he had to follow. He wasn't allowed the independence he treasured so much.
"But I don't want the ambulance."
"Sherlock, you have no say in the matter. I've called the ambulance, you shot yourself and fainted for goodness sake! You need blood back in you! Now I can't give you blood, I'm afraid unless there is a secret supply here that you haven't told me about" that was probably a stupid thing to ask John thought there probably is.
"well…" started Sherlock, but John cut him off,
"No Sherlock. Just no! You are not getting out of this one! You are going to the hospital and that's final!"
"But John"
"No!" There were no exceptions, Sherlock was going whether he liked it or not.
"the thing is John, that… I don't want another doctor"
"For goodness sake Sherlock just shut- what did you say?" John wasn't sure he had heard right.
"I said" the taller man started, then blushed crimson against his raven hair "I only want my doctor. I want you, John and you alone."
Now John blushed, surely Sherlock didn't mean what John thought he meant. He couldn't, he was asexual for goodness sake! John refused to let himself imagine what this might mean. The tall man, genius and striking in appearance, with the deep, intelligent grey eyes and full lips had just said he had wanted John. It was probably an experiment John thought, not understanding fully why he kept rationalizing Sherlock's answer, trying to make it seem like something other than the shy declaration. He probably wanted to find out…well what did he want to find out? He probably wanted to find out the physiological attachment of the savior to the savee….That's it, John decided, an experiment, nothing more.
So why do I feel happy?
John licked his lips, feeling a sweat break out over him under Sherlock's all seeing gaze.
"Sherlock… if this is another experiment I'll…"
"This is not an experiment, John. Never an experiment."
Right, so it wasn't an experiment now? He is a sociopath anyway, socipaths can't feel anything and they're VERY GOOD at lying John reminded himself, Sherlock was lying.
"Look at me John. Really look." Sherlock moved his gaze up to John's face, noting that the man had still not looked at him. "Do you honestly think I am lying?"
Now John did look, alerted by purr of Sherlock's voice. A suspicious purr, too smooth.
"Sherlock I honestly don't know. Ok? And what makes you think that I like you like… that anyway? I date girls, Sherlock, women, females… and I know you don't understand that, but it's just the way I am." What John was starting to realize was that perhaps it wasn't who he was. That when Sherlock had said those words, that he wanted John, something had happened inside John, something inexplicable. He had started to wonder if perhaps, just in this one case, not dating girls would be ok.
"I see." Sherlock said bluntly. "fine, take me to the hospital and you can pretend I didn't say any of this" He sighed… John would possibly never understand him.
"No, Sherlock… wait. I didn't, I mean, I haven't-"
At that moment there was a knock on the door and Mrs. Hudson entered the room, took one look at Sherlock, and screamed. The ambulance woman beside her, put a comforting arm around her shoulders reassuring her that "these things" happened all the time.
"John! Thank goodness you came home!" Mrs. Hudson wailed as John walked over to her, to take over comforting from the ambulance woman.
"Yes, Mrs. Hudson, yes. Now look, Sherlock will be fine. He's only shot his arm and he will be better in a matter of weeks!"
"Oh dear" sobbed Mrs. Hudson "Oh, poor Sherlock!"
"It's ok Mrs. Hudson, I promise." John comforted the woman.