Hey, hope you enjoy!
UnBETA'd as always - so sorry for any mistakes, hope you enjoy, this kind of crept into my head today so I wanted to get it out!
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Sherlock was reclining on the sofa watching his secret pleasure, The Jeremy Kyle Show, he snorted with derision at their stupidity. His phone began to buzz next to him and he considered not answering, it was only Lestrade, but he was beginning to feel bored so he hope there might be a case for him.
"Lestrade," He greeted.
"Hey Sherlock."
"Can I help you with something? Another case got you stumped?" He said smugly.
"Actually it's not a case, you need to keep calm and behave rationally, it's nothing too serious." Lestrade sounded nervous.
"For goodness sake, Lestrade, spit it out would you."
"It's John, he was brought into Saint Barts, he's been beaten up pretty badly."
Sherlock felt his blood run cold, his vision clouded over. John had been hurt. Some worthless scum had hurt John. His John.
"Sherlock?" Lestrade called into the phone when he received no reaction, "I've sent someone to pick you up, just be outside in 5 minutes." The line went dead, but Sherlock still found himself trapped where he was. He took a few deep breaths and tried to focus, the most important thing right now was John and getting to John, he just needed to go downstairs and wait for the car to get him. He pulled himself up from the sofa slowly, feeling weak and unsteady and gradually gained confidence in his balance, grabbed his coat and pulled it on as he headed downstairs.
He stepped out of the front door and glanced around, he couldn't be expected to wait for one of Lestrade's imbeciles to amble over to his house. Mycroft always had a car hanging around him, it was just a matter of spotting it, which honestly wasn't too difficult.
The black car with blackout windows stuck out like a sore thumb and Sherlock bundled himself into the back of it immediately.
"Mr Holmes, unusual to see you here," a nameless, faceless chauffeur greeted, "where to?"
"Saint Barts hospital, fast as possible." Sherlock demanded.
"Of course, sir." The car pulled away smoothly and was soon speeding towards the hospital. Sherlock drummed his fingers against his thigh, intermittently between tapping his foot.
His deep thoughts plotting revenge were interrupted by the driver, "Here we are sir, do you need me to wait?"
"I don't know, probably, maybe not." Sherlock didn't want to talk to this man, he wanted to talk to John.
"Okay, well I'll be outside if you need me."
Sherlock burst out of the car and hurried into the hospital, nearly flying straight past Lestrade, who put a hand on his chest to slow him down.
"Move Lestrade, I need to get to him. Where is he?" Sherlock whipped his head around frantically.
"Hey, hey, calm down, he's fine, just take a deep breath. Come with me I'll show you where he is." Lestrade began walking away, Sherlock right on his heels.
"You will tell me everything that happened after I have seen him, and then I will have free reign over this case. This will not go unpunished." Sherlock barked at Lestrade as they slowed outside of a private room.
"Yeah sure." Lestrade didn't seem to mind letting Sherlock do what he liked to the bastards who did this, he was pretty fond of John himself.
Sherlock nodded absently at Lestrade, dismissing him as he gently opened the door to John's room and slipped in. His breath caught as he saw his lover looking so small in a hospital gown, his face decorated with a black eye and a bruise spreading across his right cheekbone.
"John," Sherlock breathed, barely above a whisper.
"Hey," John replied, equally quiet.
Sherlock stayed pressed against the door until John lifted his hand a little and motioned with his head for Sherlock to come closer, "Come here love."
Sherlock took the room in two steps, collapsing onto the bed near John's hip, his fingers reaching out to trace the dark patterns against John's skin.
"John." He whispered again.
"I know," John whispered in return, "it looks worse than it is, I'm fine honestly."
Sherlock leaned his head down to press his forehead gently against John's, "You idiot." He muttered, his voice cracking.
John chuckled, "I know, I'm sorry."
Sherlock's throat felt tight and his voice seemed thick, "I'm never letting you out of my sight again, clearly you can't be trusted."
"Okay, deal." John agreed, a smile in his voice.
Sherlock finally leaned his head down fully and kissed John gently against his lips, "God, John. I cant..." He trailed off.
"Shh," John soothed, combing his fingers though Sherlock's hair, "I'm here, its fine, just bad luck, could have happened to anyone."
"I don't care about anyone, I care about you." Sherlock muttered stubbornly.
"I know, but its fine, I'm fine."
Sherlock huffed out a huge breath, leaning himself against John comfortably. Johns strong arms wrapped around the detective, pulling him as close as he could.
Chapter 2 to follow soon!
