I decided to have a go at writing a sick-fic; I kind of got a little caught up in doing so.
I decided to try another '4 times Sherlock -' idea and decided to go ahead with "4 times Sherlock was sick in front of John'. This is another compilation of 4 scenarios (including a fifth, in which the roles are reversed) and I can only hope it will be received as well as the previous one.
This is just the first chapter of the series; the others are written, but I'd like to see how this will be received before I post those.
My apologies about it being so short.
Sorry for any mistakes.
Please, let me know what you think.
1. Intense pain
"Sherlock!" The doctor's worried shout echoed through the council estate as he came to a stop at the end of a dark alleyway, something having caught his attention; his gaze fell on the outline of the detective at the bottom, balancing on his hands and knees. John set off at a run down the darkened alley, dodging rubbish bins clearly waiting for collection, and skidding to a stop beside his friend's frame. The ex-soldier dropped, unceremoniously, to his knees, the joints cracking under the pressure and he immediately set about assisting the detective. John didn't need to ask any questions as, even in the dim lighting, his eyes were drawn to a large wound on his flatmate's stomach, blood soaking through his friend's white shirt; John knew it was a knife injury.
It clearly took a large amount of effort for the detective in question to force himself to look up at his friend; when he did his eyes were hazy, clearly dazed. Sherlock's hands were shaking, even as they held up the man's weight, and he opened his mouth momentarily before closing it again. His multi-coloured eyes closed slowly and, for a moment, the doctor worried that he was going to collapse, but his eyes opened again and, when they did, they immediately met with his own and the detective opened his mouth once more. "Help me." He rasped, pain evident in his voice; the amount of effort it took for the doctor to utter those two words shocked the doctor.
John instantly reached forwards, taking a firm hold on the detective and slowly lowering him so that he was lying on his side. John removed Sherlock's scarf from around his pale neck and placed it under his head before taking off his own scarf and applying pressure to the wound on his stomach, trying to stem the bleeding as he fumbled with his left hand, trying to remove his phone from his coat pocket. Sherlock's head lolled slightly before he found the strength to move it, turning it so that he was facing the stars, his eyes open, watching.
John could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he phoned for an ambulance, mentally checking the man over for injuries. The doctor found the detective's labored breathing and could see a few broken fingers on the man's left hand. His violin hand, John noted to himself. The ex-soldier had just ended the call and was pushing the phone back into his jacket pocket when the sound reached his ears and John turned his gaze to the detective's face. The man's usually pale complexion had reddened slightly and his body convulsed as he coughed, the sound gurgling in his throat, as though the man was gargling.
The doctor was quick to reach out, turning to detective's head to the side and watching with an air of disgust as vomit almost poured from his open mouth and onto the floor beside his head. John found himself wondering, as he attempted to comfort the man, how someone who ate so little could have so much for his stomach to reject; the ex-army medic's nose scrunched up slightly as a second round of vomiting escaped his friend.
"Hurts." Sherlock whimpered once he was done; he sounded pitiful. John, instinctively, ran a hand through the detective's curls, trying to calm him.
"I'll bet it does. But don't worry, we'll have you to a hospital soon, okay?"
Thank you for reading.
I'd love to know what you think and whether I should post the others or not.
I also have two chapters of Time's Arrow to post.