Sod's Law Slippage
A/N Ooooo haven't been here in a while. Found this on my computer and thought I'd post it up. As always, I hope you enjoy :-)
"John, I could do with some assistance"
"Yeah, well, we have got a bit of a problem..." John looked up from the table to where Sherlock stood bleeding in the doorway, "Oh my...what happened to you?"
"Ice," Sherlock grimaced as both John and Mrs Hudson motioned to see his injuries more closely; he had a gash on his forehead and was clutching his arm, "I imagine Mycroft is somewhere watching the whole ungraceful slip on a loop."
"You ought to be more careful. Rushing about," Mrs Hudson chastised gently as she guided the detective into a nearby chair.
John had finished his assessment of his friends head, "This isn't too deep. Just needs a good clean."
"Excellent," Sherlock stated flatly, "Let's do that then."
John smiled slightly, "Hang on, I'm not blind; your arm?"
"Hmm, we need to get you out of that coat," Mrs Hudson agreed.
The next few minutes were a struggle as John and Mrs Hudson tried their upmost to free Sherlock's arm from his clothes and he tried his hardest to hide the pain.
John didn't even need a second to diagnose though, "Yeah, that's broken."
Sherlock groaned, "I want a second opinion."
"It's broken," Mrs Hudson nodded completely ignoring the glare that trained on her.
John chuckled, "Your third opinion can come from the hospital."
"I hate hospitals."
"Sure you do; St Bart's is like your second home."
"I hate waiting rooms."
John scoffed "News flash, Sherlock, no one likes them."
"Well, the sooner you go, the sooner you can get back," Mrs Hudson said as she lightly draped Sherlock's jacket back around his shoulders.
Sherlock stood up slowly, nodding his head towards the paperwork on the table, "What did you need my help with?"
"Doesn't matter now," John told him, "It can wait until we get back."
Sherlock gaze left the table and found John's face, "We?"
"What?"
"I am capable of going to the hospital alone."
John studied his friends face; Sherlock looked slightly perplexed. He sighed, " I know that you can go on your own but, you know, you don't have to."
"Yeah, no one should have to do all that waiting around on their own," Mrs Hudson agreed.
"Always done it before," Sherlock stated.
"Well, now is different," John smiled, "I volunteer to get bored with you."
"You're strange."
John laughed, "The words 'pot' and 'kettle' spring to mind." He shrugged on his coat, "Now, let's get moving shall we?"
...
"John, I'm bored."
John shifted in his uncomfortable seat and flicked onto a new page of the year old magazine he'd managed to find lying around.
"John."
"I gave you the crossword."
"Ridiculous questions. Useless information."
"Have a go at the Sudoku then."
"Already done," Sherlock groaned and John rolled his eyes although he instantly regretted doing so when he actually looked at his friend. They had been waiting a good hour for the x-ray and truth be told Sherlock was doing better with the waiting than John had expected. It was only now that he had begun complaining and whilst John knew that boredom would be a big factor it was clear that the detective was also in quite a bit of discomfort and pain. John shut his magazine.
"Right, there must be-"
"What did you need my help with?" Sherlock interrupted.
John thought for a moment, "This may actually cheer you up whilst providing a distraction."
"What?"
John smirked, "Sherlock, me and Mrs Hudson have come to the conclusion that you will have to sort out the post issue."
"Post issue?"
"Yes. You may not have...no, wait, you won't have noticed but our post keeps on being delivered to the wrong address."
"Does it?"
John scoffed, "Yeah, I have to go and collect it from three doors down before you stab it to the mantel piece."
"I don't understand the problem."
"That is the problem, Sherlock."
"Stabbing the post to the mantel piece?"
"No. No, Sherlock," John shook his head; he was beginning to wish he hadn't started this, "Well, yes, that is a problem because it upsets Mrs Hudson but that isn't this problem."
"John, this is neither cheering me up nor distracting me."
"If you would listen," John persevered, "Mrs Hudson and I have nominated you to go down to the post office and make sure that our post gets delivered to our house."
Sherlock almost groaned aloud, "That's it? I still fail to-"
"You can be as rude as you like," John unexpectedly interrupted.
There was a pause where John thought Sherlock hadn't quite heard him but then he simply said, "explain."
John smiled because he knew he had his friend's complete attention now or so he thought, "I cannot count the amount of times I have rung up the post office to try and resolve the issue and every time I have got nowhere so yesterday Mrs Hudson went down there."
"Is this why I didn't get my liver?"
"Is this why...what? Sherlock, I thought you wanted an explanation."
"You were taking too long," Sherlock wafted the hand of his unbroken arm dismissively, "Is it why I didn't get my liver?"
John sighed, "Your liver nearly ended up getting us reported; Mr and Mrs Higgins did not appreciate organs through their letterbox."
"Why did Mr and Mrs Higgins have my liver?"
"They live three doors down," John was frustrated now, "I swear talking to you is like talking to a child sometimes. For once will you just listen?"
Sherlock had the decency to look chastised, "Go on, John."
"Thank you. Mrs Hudson went down to the office where she was patronised and shouted at by some little upstart and then palmed off with some undecipherable, pointless paperwork about confirming our address. I was going to go back down there tomorrow and tell them where to shove it but I think you can have the pleasure, if you like?"
John could see that despite an edge of pain, there was now definitely some amusement dancing in Sherlock's eyes, "I am not sure if that's a job I can do, John?" he smirked.
"No, no, you're right," John nodded his head, "Completely out of the realms of your capabilities."
They both looked at each other in mock seriousness before laughing although this made Sherlock inadvertently move his arm and he could not suppress a small howl of pain from escaping his lips.
John winced in sympathy."It shouldn't be too much longer now," he said as he helped Sherlock try and support his arm in a more comfortable position.
"I hate this," Sherlock gritted as he closed his eyes and leaned back into the chair.
"Nobody likes this."
"Slows down everything," Sherlock said under his breath, "useless transport."
"It's only one arm, Sherlock. Your left one at that."
"Never broke an arm before."
"Really?" John asked. He was quite surprised that given Sherlock's complete lack of safety awareness that the man hadn't broken every bone in his body at least once before.
"Fingers but never an arm. Foot but never a leg. Concussion twice. Stabbed once."
"Arm, dislocated shoulder and shot."
"Almost been shot."
John snorted, "I think if we started listing the things we almost ended up in hospital for we'd be here a while."
"Overdose," Sherlock said opening his eyes. John knew that was not an 'almost'.
The topic of drug use was one that was skirted around in the Baker Street household. John knew the bare minimum which had mostly come from Mycroft and Lestrade rather than Sherlock so he was always surprised when his friend referenced the subject himself. He waited to see if the detective would say more.
"Wasn't even on a case," Sherlock groaned.
John furrowed his brow, "I thought that's why..."
"I mean now, John. This," he said pointing at his broken arm, "I wasn't even being reckless."
"Oh," John sighed; he couldn't help being a little disappointed that Sherlock hadn't expanded on the drugs issue, "Sods law."
"Sod's what?" Sherlock asked.
"Sherlock Holmes!" A shout suddenly cut through the waiting room as a nurse walked towards them holding a clipboard.
"About time," Sherlock muttered loudly as he began to stand up a bit too quickly.
"Carefully," John advised putting a hand on his shoulder.
Sherlock unexpectedly looked John straight in the eye and close to a whisper he said, "Once. Only once. Never again."
John knew what he was saying and nodded. "Never again," he agreed giving Sherlock's shoulder a supportive squeeze.
"Mr Holmes?" the nurse asked as she reached the two men.
"That would be me," Sherlock replied, "It's about time you were here."
John rolled his eyes, "Sherlock. Not good."
...