Necessity
Summary: John is drowning. Sherlock needs to deal with an old trauma. 221B format: 221 words, the last beginning with a B. WARNING! Mentions of child abuse! Gen.
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Sherlock hated swimming. Water slowed his movements, blurred his sight, distorted his hearing. Worst of all, it stopped him breathing.
"Breathing's boring," he'd told John once. Because it was. Breathing being an autonomic function, focussing on it was pointless. But Sherlock knew better than most its necessity.
John needed to breathe. John was currently disappearing under the surface of the Thames and not doing anything about it. Unconscious people can't swim.
Their murder suspect was long gone. Lestrade's team had yet to arrive. Only Sherlock was around. Letting John die was off the table. So it stood to reason Sherlock save him. Obviously. Right.
He dove in, immediately wishing he hadn't. Anxiety gnawed at him, but he valiantly pushed it back. He grabbed John's coat and started upwards. Then his lungs made their desire for fresh air known.
Sherlock panicked.
He couldn't breathe and there was a hand pushing him down and the water was so hot and the hand squeezed his neck and pulled his hair and the man was calling him "Worthless Freak" and Please Daddy, don't hurt me!
He broke through the surface and dragged John onto land, collapsed next to his coughing friend. Relief filled him with the air he desperately dragged into his lungs. Lestrade's team would arrive soon.
Until then, they simply breathed.
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R&R please! And remember, nitpicking will be used to improve my writing, flames will be used to warm up our boys!