Foxes among Hounds
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or any of its related property. I make no profit from this. I write to entertain.
Warnings: nightmares, panic attacks
Pairings: Sherlock/John friendship (or pre slash if you read it that way)
AN: Set during The Hounds of Baskerville. Spoilers I guess?
START
Sherlock watched from the video feeds. As orchestrated the lights switched off in the room and he sounded the recorded roar of the wolf. As predicted John reacted with panic. Ever the soldier, John thought of a solution to his impending doom at the hands of a great hounds fangs by thinking of a solution.
Sherlock expected the phone call. He continued as scripted, ignoring the bad feeling he had.
Still the way John sounded worried him. He had never heard John sound so breathless. So overwhelmingly frightened. "Sher...Lock...Where-" John had stopped suddenly.
Sherlock was starting to actually worry. "John, keep speaking to me. I'll be there soon" he lied, hoping to comfort the other enough to get his experiment on track.
John didn't reply. Not even a grunt to show he had heard. Johns breathing was worryingly rapid now.
"John, I'm a few minutes away. Promise you will stay with me." he spoke worriedly. The experiment was officially over.
For a moment he thought John had hung up on him but he could hear the background noises still. He couldn't hear John breathing. He felt a white hot stab of worry. He couldn't hear John moving either. This was bad.
He ran faster than he could remember ever doing so. When he reached John's side, his hypothesis was confirmed. John had passed out and wasn't breathing. His John wasn't breathing. He reacted quickly with what little he remembered of medical care.
He was rewarded when John gasp his first breath. Though he was far from awake.
John POV:
I wake up still in the cage... it wasn't a dream after all. That thing is probably still out for me. I feel a warm body in front of me. Someone is speaking. Speaking? That makes no sense. Hounds don't speak. Must be imagining it.
I catch movements around me, my military training kicking in. The hounds are swarming around me. They stop and I wonder why. Then I see a flash of black coming closer. A bigger hound. The leader hound? Dogs are pack animals.
I feel warm contact on my skin. I don't need to think. I fight as I have been taught. This hound may be big and scary but its flesh and blood. I can fight it, or at least disorient it while I ran away. Maybe lock the door behind me.
I throw my weight at the hound, I feel the cage shake as I hear a satisfying thud. The hound is stronger than I thought because it only pauses a second. I growl and make a fist. Aiming for its head, I find I hit only cage. I pause to try gain my bearings...suddenly I am thrown to the ground, pinned by a warm black body.
Thats it. I'm done for! Hound chow! I know its useless to try throwing it off and my arms are pinned.
After a few minutes, I am surprised not to feel sharp fangs or claws pull me apart. I hear someone speaking. When its clear I can make out the words. Familiar voice.
Sherlock POV:
He relaxes enough to actually focus on me. I keep him pinned, ignoring the stinging on my back. "John, its Sherlock. Your okay." I say calmly.
After a minute he seems to notice me. "Sherlock? The hound! It had me!" he calls out all at once.
I place a hand on his shoulder, calming him. "It's just me." I say. The others in the room seem to get the hint and leave us to our privacy.
He shakily pushes himself up against the nearest surface. His still so pale. At least his aware now. I'm thankful I had the foresight to insist that I was the only one to approach him. I was right about his military reflexes. I didn't expect his strength though.
"You okay now?" I ask softly.
He whines in reply, curling up into himself. Thats a no. "You cold?" I ask. He nods. I take off my long black jacket and place it over him. He smiles and relaxes into the warm jacket. "Come on, lets get you back to the hotel. You can sleep properly there" I prompt.
He seems to realise that and tries to get up. Key word – tries. I catch him before he stumbles to the ground and place an arm around his waist, supporting him.
SHJWSHJWSHJWSHJWSHJWSHJWSHJWSHJWSHJWSHJWSHJWSHJWSHJWSHJWSHJW
At the hotel, he seems better. His not as pale. His also more aware, more stable. Sherlock was relieved. "Sleep now okay? You had a panic attack. You need to rest." he said, trying for assuring. After getting his jacket back, he put the sheets over the ex army doctor. His friend.
Sherlock settled down, finally able to relax. He felt a pang of guilt. He had done this to his friend...if he still had the honour of calling him friend after John found out what he had done. Still it was comforting to see John a little better.
Only an hour later, Sherlock heard John's terrified whimpers. He found John in the grips of a nightmare. John was tossing and turning, whimpering loudly. Sherlock's first thought was to comfort him.
Sherlock placed a hand on John's, telling him that Sherlock was here. That he was safe. It seemed to do little good. John tensed up and aimed a punch toward Sherlock. He too stunned to duck and the fist impacted hard. John really was strong. Sherlock recovered enough to duck the next punch. He realised that John needed to feel safe, to feel that he did not need to defend himself. He remembered the fond smile when he wore Sherlock's jacket. Maybe that was not merely warmth?
The idea was absurd. But it would work. He knew it would. He ducked the next attacks and dived for John. He wrapped his arms around John comfortingly, keeping a strong grip. In merely 7 minutes, his friend had calmed, turning into the warm body instead of fighting.
A knock sounded at the door. Sherlock didn't pay that any mind. He had John to care for.
He heard the door opening to find Lestrade looking angry. "I hope your happy. I know John will forgive you but I won't. Imagine putting your best friend through that?" he said angrily.
Sherlock felt his friend stir in his arms, whimpering. "Lestrade, Can you keep it down! Your scaring him" he snapped back quietly.
The anger seemed to disappear. "John? Is he okay?" he asked worriedly.
"Hard to tell." Sherlock only said.
Lestrade took in the odd scene in front of him. Sherlock had John in his arms, protecting him fiercely. John looked relaxed and calm, though wary of Lestrade.
"I heard he was in shock. That he had a panic attack when you saved him" the police officer said.
Sherlock nodded.
"Nightmare?" he asked kindly.
Sherlock nodded again. "He can't seem to sleep without one. He doesn't need more reasons to have nightmares".
"I guess not. When my boy had nightmares, I would stay with him. It was the only thing that helped." Lestrade spoke. Sherlock showed no sign of actually hearing him but he was not offended. Sherlock had better things to focus on.
AN: R and R.