Disclaimer: Sherlock, along with its characters, location, etc. are the property of BBC and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I do not own them, though I definitely wouldn't mind being on a first name basis with Benedict Cumberbatch ;)
Summary: A few missing scenes from during and after TFP. Sherlock and John have a moment after John is saved from the well, Sherlock helps Mycroft, etc. Scenes are connected, but not one long scene.Set right after John is saved from the well in TFP for the first chapter, the others are set after the whole incident. No Mary or Rosie, they both died from complications during birth. Rated T because I'm paranoid.
A/N: I don't usually like changing canon to set up a story, nevertheless to set up the scenes I have in mind I couldn't have Rosie around in 221B. These scenes are all connected, but they're more like interconnected one-shots rather than a continuous story. Set during and after TFP that are all in the same fic. I'm going to mark this fic as complete, but I may add a new chapter here and there if I get any motivation. This chapter is about Sherlock saving John from the well, and making sure he didn't get hypothermia from the cold water. Leave a review if you liked it!
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After The Well
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Chapter 1
The Well
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"John!" Sherlock yelled. He was standing over the well and looking down inside, seeing John struggling with the cold water that was up to his neck. "Hold on, John, I'm coming down!"
John turned his face away as Sherlock took off his coat and scarf and dropped into the well, bolt-cutters he had found in the house in his hand, just in case.
"John?" Sherlock touched his shoulder. John turned toward him. "Do you want me to cut the chain or the cuff?" Sherlock asked.
"Cuff." John croaked out. He was freezing.
"All right." Sherlock let go of John's shoulder. "You'll feel a pressure when I press the cutters into the cuff." With that Sherlock bent and dropped face first into the water. John felt something press his ankle into the side of the cuff, then heard a satisfying snap. He felt the same thing on the opposite side of his ankle before he felt a piece of the cuff break away so he could free his leg.
Sherlock came back up from underwater, his shirt sticking to his torso and his hair plastered to his forehead.
"John, are you strong enough to climb?" Sherlock asked, his hand once again on John's shoulder.
John slowly nodded his head.
"All right, you go first." Sherlock motioned for John to start climbing out of the well, releasing his shoulder once again. With a sigh, John heaved himself onto the wall and slowly began to climb. He thanked his army training, because his whole body was numb from cold, and he knew he wouldn't be able to climb out if he wasn't trained to do so.
After an agonizing ten minutes, John slowly heaved himself out of the well and rolled onto the grass. Sherlock following soon after.
After a moment, John saw Sherlock stand and move in front of John. He held his hand out.
"Come on, John." John groaned and took Sherlock's outstretched hand, pulling himself off the ground.
Once he was up, Sherlock moved over to a heap next to the well and picked it up, moving back over to John. He set the heap back on the ground and turned toward John.
"You're going to get hypothermia." Sherlock stated.
"Probably." John responded.
Sherlock narrowed his eyes and moved forward. He motioned toward John's soaked coat. "May I?" he asked.
"Depends on what you want to do." John replied.
Sherlock rolled his eyes and stepped forward, grasping the zipper of John's coat and pulling.
"What are you doing?" John asked incredulously.
"Making sure you don't get hypothermia." Sherlock finished unzipping John's coat (his fingers were really very numb) and peeled it away from John's shivering torso. He then proceeded to undo the buttons of his shirt one by one until he could also pull that away from John's body.
"Sherlock…" John started to protest.
"Hush, John." Sherlock snapped. He grabbed onto John's white undershirt and pulled it up and over his head so he was standing there in just his wet jeans. Sherlock then bent down and grabbed the heap on the ground, letting it unravel. John was briefly aware that in was Sherlock's coat before it was whipped around him and set on his shoulders. "Put it on." Sherlock commanded.
"But, Sherlock, this is your coat." John argued.
"Yes?" Sherlock questioned.
"Why would you be letting me wear it?" John asked, an incredulous look on his face.
Sherlock gave him a look like he was the dumbest person on the planet.
"Because you're cold and wet and bound to get hypothermia if you don't warm up. And my coat is only warm and dry piece of clothing around." Sherlock answered.
"You're cold and wet too." John replied, pushing his arms through the sleeved of the coat and pulling it tight around himself.
"You were in there much longer. I'll manage. I have Lestrade bringing us dry clothes from the flat. Until then I'll be fine."
"You'll give up being warm to make sure I'm comfortable?" John asked.
Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "Of course, John. You're my best friend," Sherlock replied. "Also, the whole reason you were in that well in the first place was because you're friends with me, and that makes you a target for my sister. Naturally, I want to make sure you are safe and comfortable before attending to my own needs."
"You've come a long way, Sherlock." John replied.
"Thank you?"
John stepped forward and hugged Sherlock, wrapping his arms around his middle. He wouldn't normally hug someone like this, especially Sherlock, but he felt the need to, since he had just saved his life and taken care of him.
Sherlock stiffened at first, not used to the contact, but he soon relaxed and wrapped his arms around John's shoulders. He wasn't very good at this, but he still enjoyed it.
They could hear sirens and helicopter blades in the distance while they stood there, hugging and sharing body heat.
Soon, Lestrade ran up to them with a bag of clothes in his hand. Sherlock turned out of the hug, keeping his left arm wrapped around John's shoulders.
John reached out and took the bag from Lestrade's hand, and the D.I. turned to leave.
"Hey," Sherlock spoke, making Lestrade turn and look at him. "make sure my brother is taken care of, will you? He's not as strong as he thinks he is." Sherlock asked.
"I will." Lestrade responded.
Sherlock stretched his right hand forward to grasp Lestrade's. "Thanks, Greg."
"Yeah…" Lestrade squeezed Sherlock's hand briefly before letting go and making his way back over to the SWAT team that had arrived with them.
Both Sherlock and John turned toward the house, making their way inside so they could change out of their wet clothes. Sherlock still had his arm wrapped around John's shoulders, and he felt John's arm snake around his waist.
They would survive this, as long as they were together.