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Terror, utter terror, coursed through me when I saw John. He was bloody, bruised, and looked like hell. I didn't really register the man with the gun, all I could focus on was the blood trickling from the cut above John's eyes.
My John.
My blogger.
I fired a single shot, barely even paying any attention as the man crumpled to the ground. I was already at John's side, pressing one gloved hand to his forehead to stop the bleeding and checking his pulse with the other. It was weak, but still there.
Lestrade races around the corner moments later, takes one look at John, and pulls out his cell, quickly dialing for an ambulance.
"Let me up Sherlock!"
"Absolutely not John. The doctor said that you should rest for at least a week and I intend to make sure you do."
"I am a doctor Sherlock! And he may have said to rest but I'm positive tying me to the bed was nowhere in the instructions!" I tell him, tugging meaningfully on the length of rope securing me to my bed by one wrist.
"You refused to stay in bed so I had to take preventative measures." He says like I should have know this.
I give him a withering glare but he continues to read his book, pointedly ignoring me. It has no affect on him so I try a different tactic.
Begging.
"Please Sherlock? Just to the couch? I hate being cooped up in here."
Sherlock shakes his head stubbornly but I can see that I've won. A second passes, agonizingly slow in the silent room, and then Sherlock sighs. He sets his book aside, crosses the short distance from desk to bed, and begins picking at the knots on my wrist.
"Fine. But just to the couch! You can't go any farther."
I smile in relief as he frees my hand but just as I'm about to swing my legs off the bed Sherlock picks me up bridal style and starts down the stairs to the living room.
"Put me down Sherlock, I can walk!"
But despite my protests, Sherlock simple ignores me until he sets me down on the couch and takes a seat in my chair. "Doctor's orders John."
As if that explains everything!
"I don't care what the bloody doctor said Sherlock, you can't just pick me up! Let alone tie me to my bed!"
He ignores me.
I try to get up. He pushes me down.
I begin to glare at him again.
"You're acting like a child John."
"No, I'm acting like someone who's being manhandled by a sociopath!"
Sherlock shakes him and gives me the same condescending look that you give a small child that being especially difficult.
I start to say something else but my mouth is suddenly very busy as Sherlock leans over and kisses me.
"Please let me take care of you John." He whispers in my ear when he finally pulls away.
I scowl furiously at him but don't protest as he pulls me into his lap and leans his head on my shoulder, silently apologizing for making me mad. Lucky for him, I can't stay mad for very long because I'm finding it difficult to stay awake.
For someone so thin, he is remarkably soft.
"Go to sleep, John. You need it."
As if I had much of a choice.