A/N: Hi everyone! Warning: Some graphic content involving rape, it's short but it's still there so you have been warned! Hope you like it!
-0.0-
"Sherlock!? Why is the milk purple?" John shouted from his position in the kitchen, his eyes focused on the florescent liquid as he held the refrigerator door open.
"Experiment." Was the one word reply the doctor received from the detective currently sprawled out across the couch.
John stared down at the tinted liquid while several slow, hazy, thoughts buzzed around in his head, one of which being his already poured bowl of cereal.
"Can I drink it?" He suddenly asked, much too tired to run down to the store and buy a new one.
"What-? No! It's purple!" Sherlock quipped as he leaped off of the couch and ran into the kitchen, confiscating the liquid from the doctor before quickly pouring it down the drain- just in case his flat mate got any ideas.
"Given the shade it would have killed you instantly should you have taken a sip." The genius explained to the groggy "not genius".
"Ah, yes, and I was just supposed to magically know that now, was I?" John asked as he rubbed his temples. It was far too early for this, he hadn't even gotten his morning cuppa yet.
"Magically? No, of course not- no such thing exists. I may have expected you to use a bit more common sense, though." Sherlock hissed, pulling the now empty carton closer to his chest as if it could still kill his unobservant flat mate.
"It could have just been food coloring or something!" John defended as he closed the fridge door, deciding there was nothing of interest left in it.
"Yes, John, because I just love to put food coloring in milk. And here I was beginning to worry you were an idiot-"
"Yes, yes, alright- I get it." The doctor cut in, raising his hands in mock surrender.
"I'm going out to get a new carton. I'll be back in a bit" John yawned out as he pulled on his jacket and slid on his shoes.
Sherlock promptly went over to fall back into his prior position on the couch, his eyes falling closed as he quickly hissed, "Try not to kill yourself"
The doctor raised his hand and opened his mouth as if he were to make a retort, then suddenly decided against it and waved dismissively at the supposed sociopath.
Closing the door shut behind himself, John descended down the stairs, accidentally running into Mrs. Hudson as she began her way up.
"Where are you heading off to so early?" She inquired, tilting her body back ever so slightly so that the doctor could slide his way passed.
"I, have to get more milk because someone turned the other one into a deadly poison." John groaned in frustration as he swung the front door open to reveal the bright and early streets of London, making the tired doctor wince as his eyes tried to adjust.
"Oh dear..." Mrs. Hudson mumbled just as John waved his goodbye's and stepped out into the streets.
The landlady quickly hurried up the steps, knocking on the door twice before opening it to reveal a dramatic Sherlock draped across the furniture.
"I ran into John on the way up... a bit put off by, what was it? Poisonous milk, perhaps?" She tutted while subconsciously organizing a stack of papers that had fallen onto the floor god knows when.
Could have been five minutes ago, could have been a week ago, whenever it was, it had already been long forgotten.
"Hardly my fault he thinks purple milk is safe to drink." Sherlock grumbled from the couch.
Mrs. Hudson paused mid-movement before shaking her head and continuing to clean.
"I understand deary, you're worried about him is all." She concludes, setting the stack of papers neatly back on the table.
"Don't be ridiculous! I'm not worried" Sherlock scoffed, suddenly finding the act of sitting still unbearable so he began to fidget.
"It's perfectly normal, Sherlock, just be sure to let him breathe, yeah?" Mrs. Hudson continued to say, completely ignoring the previous interjection from the detective currently tapping his foot repeatedly on the living room floor.
"If anyone's worried here it's you- fiddling around nervously- clearly you haven't been sleeping well either- don't even get me started on your nail biting-"
"John's a good man." The land lady piped in, cutting off the others deductions.
Slightly taken aback, Sherlock stopped moving his leg and instead began trying to predict where this conversation was headed. "Obviously." He replied, Mrs. Hudson's fact being just that, an obvious fact about his flat mate John Hamish Watson.
"Ever since the pool incident you two seem to be fighting much more... I'd hate to see the two of you split up..." Mrs. Hudson confessed as she pushed the chair properly into the desk and let her fingers hesitate for a moment along the soft material.
"Don't be so dull. I'm not going to kick him out just because he was kidnapped by Moriarty." Sherlock deadpanned before pushing his body back up against the couch.
"Perhaps not... but sometimes while protecting someone you accidentally push them away..."
"If I had wanted you're advice I would have asked for it." Sherlock seethed, his hands pressed together and set under his chin as he started at nothing and yet everything all at once.
"Then at least try not to be his cause of death" Mrs. Hudson advised just before leaving through the still open doorway without so much as a farewell.
With furrowed eyebrows, Sherlock began to tap the pads of his fingers against one another in contemplation until finally deciding to pull out his cell phone and send off a quick text.
It has come to my attention that perhaps I may have been out of line. I'm sorry- SH
With an exasperated sigh, Sherlock held the phone between both of his hands and pressed them against his lips as he continued to analyze the last several weeks.
-0.0-
John didn't hear as his phone went off due to his muffled screams.
The ex-army doctor kicked and squirmed against his captors- one of which threatened to break his arms with his hold while the other removed John's belt.
The doctor's mouth was covered in duck tape, muffling any and all noises of protest and pleas from the man.
He hadn't gotten two blocks from baker street when he was attacked by the two men who dragged him into one of the adjacent buildings.
"Stop moving or I'll break your right arm." The man holding him from behind warned while the other tugged down John's pants.
As the man tried to pull off the doctor's boxers, John immediately kneed him in the gut, sending the bastard to the ground.
In response, the man behind him tightened his grip, causing the captive to shout out against the duck tape.
"You fucker." The man currently standing back up grumbled, followed by roughly pulling off the doctor's boxers and tossing them with his shoes and jeans.
John felt helpless and paralyzed as his legs were thrown over two sturdy shoulders, knowing that any rough movement would cause his arms to either snap and/or dislocate.
A finger prodded at his entrance and John's eyes widened, completely immobile due to the man holding him from behind.
"Let's get this over with and collect our money, yeah?" The man from behind suggested.
"Right." The man in front confirmed, immediately removing his finger and instead beginning to work at his zipper.
John immediately started squirming again in panic, only stopping as a jolt of pain shot up his arm from twisting it the wrong way thanks to the grip he was in.
The doctor felt tears prick at his eyes as something large, warm, and sticky aligned itself with him.
John whimpered at the intrusion, biting his tongue as he felt himself rip apart.
Nonetheless, the ex-army doctor rested there limp and helpless as he was pounded into by the other man.
John closed his eyes and waited for it all to end, almost thankful when he felt his rapist release inside of him.
With an ecstatic smile, the other man pulled out and zipped himself up before dropping the short man's legs off of his shoulders.
"Moriarty said to make sure he doesn't leave for the next few hours. Hit him hard." The man from behind ordered.
John jerked up at the familiar name, only to black out a second later as a fist collided with his eye.
-0.0-
"An experiment! This was all just some experiment to see how long it would take me to realize John was in danger and how quickly I could find him, Leastrade!"
"Calm down, Sherlock."
Familiar voices echoed in the dark of John's slowly awakening consciousness.
"How can you be so calm, Greysmere!? This isn't just some game anymore! This is revolting!" Sherlock yelled into the D.I.'s face.
"Sh-sherlock...?" John mumbled as he blinked his eyes open, vaguely noticing that one of which were swollen.
"Sherlock?" He asked again into the sudden silence as he began to try and look around, stopping the painful movement only when the consulting detective rushed over to his bedside and scanned the doctor over with his calculating gaze.
"I'm here, John..."
John gave a small sad smile to the detective upon seeing him, now suddenly very aware of where he was, the all too familiar aroma of a hospital giving that away as he sank back into his bed and reached for the button he knew would raise the bed so he could look around.
"How did I get here, again..?" John asked as he observed his heart monitor and tried to make sense of his blurry memories.
"How are you feeling?" Sherlock asked, completely ignoring his friend's question and instead deeming his own much more important.
Upon receiving only an impatient glare in response, Sherlock took it upon himself to check for any signs of discomfort, allowing his hands to skim over John's body, searching for tension and any sign of damage.
The ex-army doctor let out a small yelp when his right arm was grabbed and immediately Sherlock retracted, very aware that there must be some nasty bruising hidden under the loose cotton sheets.
"Umm.. John, I'm going to go fetch a nurse and then, if you're ready, I'd like to ask you a few questions..." Greg piped in awkwardly, his face looking almost as if he were the one sitting in the hospital bed.
"For god's sake- give the man a break." Sherlock hissed, subconsciously leaning closer to his flat mate.
"No- no.. It's fine. I want to get this over with.." John confessed with a heavy sigh as he ignored the dull achy pain from his left eye, arms, hips, and back side.
"Alright, I'll be back in a minute" Lestrade coughed out uncomfortably, taking his leave with one last sorrowful glance at his hospitalized friend he had been at the bar with not two nights ago.
"So... Moriarty?" John asked as his foggy memory began to clear, remembering one of his captors mention the name.
Sherlock visibly flinched, his eyes cast downward at the doctor's right arm as it released itself from the restraints of the sheet. John quickly noticed the purple bruising along his right shoulder and immediately went to stuff it back under the covers, only to have Sherlock reach out and stop it by grabbing his hand.
"He was umm..." The detective stopped briefly to clear his throat as he gazed upon their intertwined hands, desperate to stop John from feeling like he had to hide things.
"He was conducting an experiment.. How long it would take me to find you... that sort of thing.." Sherlock risked a glance up at John, who was now casually staring out the window beside his bed with a far out look on his face.
The doctor must have sensed eyes on him because he immediately turned his head to meet the detectives gaze.
Sherlock promptly dropped his eyes down to their hands again, using his thumb to brush over John's knuckles.
"I'm sorry..." He mumbled, refusing to make eye contact with the smaller man.
A sharp laugh released itself from John's throat, catching the detectives attention as the doctor gripped icy fingers tighter, no doubt not realizing this subtle action.
"Why is that funny?" Sherlock inquired, narrowing his eyes to search for the answer on John's face.
"You never apologize unless someone forces you too" The doctor explained with a soft chuckle.
"Well obviously, I do." Sherlock retorted a bit defensively without meaning to.
"Apology not accepted." John grumbled despite the ever present grin across his lips.
Sherlock scowled back and furrowed his brows, leaning even closer to the patient as he got down on his knees so that he was eye level with the blonde.
"You can't decline my apology!" He protested as he used his free hand to join their intertwined ones.
"Well obviously, I can." The doctor replied smugly, watching triumphantly as revelation devoured the consulting detective's features.
"How are you feeling, Dr. Watson?" A nurse asked upon suddenly walking into the room, catching said doctor off guard and by the looks of it the detective, too.
"Oh, well, I'm fine, just fine, thank you" He responded quickly, not giving his answer much thought since, no, no one is ever fine after something like that.
"Alright, John, are you ready?" Lestrade asked as he walked into the room with a pen and paper. It was then that this all became very... real, for the doctor.
-0.0-
The next few days went by fairly smoothly, John answered questions, changed his bandages, and all the while Sherlock wouldn't let go of his hand until finally John had to shoo him away for some privacy in the restroom.
"Sherlock, don't you have something else to do? Like, I don't know, solve a murder or something?" John asked rather casually after looking up from his newspaper for the fifth time only to find Sherlock still staring at him and holding his hand.
The detective didn't respond, instead simply continued to stare at his flat mate with unwavering eyes.
Deciding two could play at that game, John let his newspaper fold into itself after letting go of it with the hand currently joined with Sherlock's.
Scrunching his nose, John narrowed his eyes and stared back into light blue.
After several minutes of staring, John finally blinked and had to rub at his dry eyes. "Alright, fine, I give up, what do you want?" The doctor asked in defeat as he raised with free hand up in surrender, then leaned back into his bed and folded his arms under the one Sherlock refused to let go of.
Yet still, no response.
"Alright, you're really starting to freak me out now, Sherlock.." John confessed with raised eyebrows as he cleared his throat awkwardly and went back to leaning forward over toward his apparently paralyzed friend.
"Hello? Anybody in there? Have you gotten.. lost, in your mind palace or something..?" John asked as he waved his left hand quickly in front of Sherlock's face a few times, even snapping once or twice in an attempt to get a reaction out of the other man.
"John!" Sherlock suddenly exclaimed, jumping forward in his chair and pulling John's forehead up against his own with his free hand which cupped the doctor's cheek and jaw line.
Said doctor stared with wide, startled eyes as all of a sudden the only thing in his vision was very close bright blue.
"I've figured out how I can still hold your hand while you use the restroom, yet still giving you your privacy!"
"That's... what you've been thinking about... this whole time? Just sitting there.. thinking about toilets and hand holding?" John asked in disbelief as he shifted his eye sight from one pool of blue to the next, and back.
"Of course I would need to make some modifications to the door, nothing too dramatic, though, I'm sure Mrs. Hudson won't mind-"
"Sherlock. I don't care if Mrs. Hudson minds or not, you are not following me into the bathroom, do you understand?" John said sternly as he raised his hand up to move with his words as if scolding a child.
"What if I-"
"No"
"But-"
"No, Sherlock, I mean it."
The consulting detective scrunched his face up and leaned back in his chair, a look of childish disappointment written all across his face.
Leaning cautiously back into the bed, John gave Sherlock one last glance before unfolding his newspaper and getting back to the latest events.
Shortly after, a few soft knocks tapped on the door just as one of the nurses walked into the room holding a clip board and pen.
"Excuse me, Dr. Watson, your test results are in. As far as we can tell you're free of all STDs and you can be released just as soon as you sign these papers!" The girl announced with a smile as she handed the clipboard and pen over to John, only to have Sherlock snatch it from them both.
"What are you doing, Sherlock? Give that back!" John protested as he tried to reach for the board, only to have Sherlock shift out of reach as he read through the documents.
"Why would I do such a thing? I'm your personal representative, therefore, you have given me full right to look through these" Sherlock quipped, meanwhile the nurse decided it'd be best to just leave and not get stuck in the middle of another one of their bickering battles like she had made the mistake of doing earlier.
"What? Since when?" John scoffed as he attempted to tug Sherlock closer so he could grab the papers back.
"Since you signed the papers for it nearly three months ago, do keep up"
"I think I would remember signing off on having you, of all people, as my personal representative!"
"Stamford."
John immediately stopped his struggling upon the mention of his friend's name. "What?" He asked, lost as to how Mike related to all of this.
"You spent the night out with Stamford and when you got back I asked you to sign the papers." Sherlock explained as he struggled to flip to the next page without the use of his other hand.
"You had me sign official documents while I was drunk!?" John seethed at the back of Sherlock's head.
"Oh please, now you're going to complain about the immorality of it all, aren't you?" The consulting detective groaned as he rolled his eyes despite knowing full well that John couldn't see it.
"A bit, yeah!"
"Would you stop fussing if I revoked myself as your personal representative?" Sherlock inquired as he glanced back at the frowning doctor.
"Depends. What other documents have you had me sign without realizing it?" John asked, suddenly worried as he let go of Sherlock's hand and stared directly into a mix of light blue, green, and a small flicker of gold.
"...I don't want to talk about it." Sherlock decided as he used this opportunity to sign off on the papers, officially releasing John from the hospital's care.
"Oh my go- Sherlock! That is not okay!" John growled in frustration at his flat mate who simply waved him off and mumbled something about drinking purple milk not being okay.
"Are you even listening to me? Do you ever , actually listen to me?" John asked, followed by biting his lip and sucking in a few deep breaths just as Sherlock tossed him the clipboard of signed papers.
"Of course I listen to you, John, don't be absurd." Sherlock groaned as he stood to straighten his coat and readjust his scarf, holding a hand out for a grumbling John immediately afterward.
"Could have fooled me" John grumbled back as he made a point to avoid the other man's hand in favor of getting up by himself to prove he wasn't completely helpless.
"Please, John..." Sherlock said softly as he continued to hold out his hand despite the smaller man already having stood.
Realizing it was more for Sherlock's sake than his own, John gently laced his fingers with the detectives as if to assure him that he was safe and wasn't going anywhere.
"John.."
"Yeah, Sherlock?"
"You didn't read through the release forms"
"Shut up, I trust you."
Sherlock promptly looked down at the smaller man, that of whom looked obliviously around the room for where the nurse had put his regular street clothes.
"Restroom sink" Sherlock answered the unasked question, still finding himself staring at the doctor as he observed the shorter man's eyes light up and shoot toward the restroom.
"Ah, right! Thank you"
John went to move forward and release Sherlock's hand, only for the consulting detective to follow in suit, their hands still connected.
"Really, Sherlock!? We are not going through this again!"
-0.0-
A/N: Thanks for reading! Next chapter should be up shortly, hope you like it! Reviews are appriciated, along with questions, comments, and concerns!