AN: I don't usually write slash …but when I do, it's Johnlock. They are not exactly kissing in the first chapter, so you can tell it's more pre slash. I just thought it a good opening for this fic.
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or any of the characters.
Chapter one: Not so boring
John is on the verge of panicking. He ignores the dull pain in his shoulder and proceeds to drag the unconscious form of his flat mate out of the water. He can hear the sounds of sirens in the distance, but he is not calmed by it.
Once they're both safely on the bank of the river, he begins to hastily work on the buttons of Sherlock's coat and soon discards him of the damp and heavy piece of clothing. The instincts of an army doctor kick in John and he is thankful for whatever experience he has, so he'll be able to be productive in critical situations. And what is this, if not a very critical situation?
He presses his ear against the detective's chest and the air is knocked out of his own lungs as he realizes that Sherlock is not breathing. With a new found determination John tilts his friend's head back slightly, brushing away the wet locks from his face and puts some pressure on his jaw to pull it forward. The good doctor doesn't think twice as he pinches the man's nostrils closed with his experienced fingers and places his mouth tightly over Sherlock's mouth. He blows two quick, shaky breaths and releases the nostrils expectantly, waiting for the chest to rise. When it doesn't happen, he growls angrily and leans in to repeat the procedure.
"Come on.." he mumbles weakly, desperately, hoping that this time the results will be different. And John almost sobs in relief as the detective's eyes shot open and the same instant he is caught into a fit of loud and throaty coughing.
"Breathing...You're breathing..." John chokes out trying to be assuring, but he says it more to himself than to the other man.
He rubs soothing circles on Sherlock's back, as the detective is still wheezing uncontrollably and spluttering water.
"Jh'n.." the detective manages to pronounce groggily in between his uneven inhales and exhales.
"Breathing..." John repeats in a murmur, an unreadable expression on his face, "Not so freaking boring now, is it?"
Sherlock only nods mutely, and lets to be shifted closer to his blogger. He doesn't comment when John doesn't remove his hand from his back.
AN: Did you like it? Shall I continue? Let me know.