Aftermath
It wasn't the pounding in his head that woke John Watson, or the dust slowly filling his lungs; it was the sound of his friend's voice filling his hears from somewhere far away. Blinking the dirt from his eyes John raised his head groggily and tried to take in his surroundings. It took him all of his strength to focus just for a few seconds. He could make out bricks and glass and a tall figure making his way through the rubble. He collapsed back into unconsciousness before the figure reached him as the blackness overwhelmed him.
Sherlock was carefully making his way through the ruins of the building they had been standing in searching for his friend. He called out his name and saw a figure stirring in the distance. He had almost reached John when he saw him slump back against what remained of the wall. Fearing for John, he rushed to his side taking a mental note of every cut and bruise visible as well as his heart rate and breathing; which he noted were a bit not good. He could hear the siren in the distance and hoped they would reach them in time. Sherlock knew that he was in just as much danger as John but at this present moment in time he didn't care. That was knew…Sentiment was not a word many would associate with Sherlock Holmes but he had learned that alone could not always protect him and John was a dab hand at saving his life.
The paramedics arrived and listened to Sherlock before pulling John out of the rubble and placing him in the back of the ambulance and placing Sherlock in another. This was protocol and for once Sherlock didn't argue. He didn't have the energy for a lesson on why it would be more suitable for him to travel with John. Instead he focused whatever energy he had on trying to work out the events which had led to the building collapsing down on top of them not half an hour previous.
They reached the hospital within ten minutes and Sherlock was wheeled down the corridor to a private ward which he was to share with John. Here Sherlock sat in silence, the cogs turning in his mind putting together the puzzle piece by piece. They had been there for a case; that much was true. He had told John it was a simple open and shut case but in reality the mystery went deeper than he had originally anticipated. He had been interrogating a seemingly unsuspecting witness when the rumble of an explosion began to filter through. As far as he could tell said witness scarpered at that precise moment obviously aware of what was just about to occur. Sherlock, however, sprinted back towards his friend as he had left John guarding the entrance to limit the witness' chance of escape. Unluckily for both of them the witness had been prepared for them and had a second escape route which was not on any plan.
It was thirty minutes later when John was brought in, looking a bit worse for wear but not seriously injured, thankfully. The two sat in silence for a while longer letting the events of the past few hours wash over them and sink in. It was John who broke the silence.
"Sherlock someone bloody well tried to kill us back there!" he stated staring at his friend in disbelief.
"I am well aware of that fact John…now it only remains to find the culprit and place them in prison for two counts of attempted murder as well as the murder of poor Mrs Gregory formally of Brixton." Sherlock replied in his usual confidant and sociopathic way. There was no emotion there and John wished that at least once during their friendship he would see the human Sherlock. Little did he know that beneath the façade Sherlock was hurting and struggling to process what had happened. He didn't know what was bothering him so much, he had been in numerous explosions before, but somehow this one was different and he couldn't shake the feeling of fear that now engrossed his mind.
The rest of their stay in hospital was largely uneventful with several people calling in to see them. Lestrade brought Mrs Hudson who brought cake (John was happy about this, hospital food still sucked). Molly came by briefly before her shift and Mycroft made his usual umbrella wielding visit confirming for Sherlock that the case which they had been following was indeed more complex that originally believed. They were released on the third morning and Sherlock was glad to be out of the confines of the stuffy room where his mind was stifled by thoughts of suffocating in a sea of dust and rubble.
They made their way back to Baker St. hailing a cab just outside the hospital. The trip was a chance for the cabbie to do them out of forty quid which Sherlock refused to pay on account of the fact that there was a more direct route which he could have taken. John muttered an apology to the driver and explained briefly about Sherlock.
"Don't worry about it mate…We all have heard the stories about Sherlock Holmes and taxi fares." This brought a smile to the doctor face as he imagined a group of taxi men in a room scheming to get revenge on Sherlock for not paying his fares. Sherlock was sitting on the sofa by the time John entered their living room. In John's medical opinion Sherlock didn't seem to be quite over the effects of the blast but, of course, Sherlock would never admit that, and John would never force the subject. Mrs Hudson brought them dinner once again repeating that it was a one off as she was not the housekeeper. There was a kindness in her voice though and John knew full well that she enjoyed the cooking and looking after 'her boys' every once in a while.
Later that night there was a knock on the door which John answered as Mrs Hudson was out. At first he presumed it was just another client but as he led he man up the stairs he felt the cold metal circle on his back and knew immediately the worst was not yet over for him or for Sherlock…
A/N: I hope you enjoyed this. Let me know whether I should continue and also if you liked it by review I love getting them…Really I do!