John shook as the icy winds chilled his bones. His hands felt raw, and the skin was peeling away. His throat was on fire, frost clung to his cheeks, and his eyes had been sealed shut. He felt lost, and scared. He couldn't remember how he'd gotten here, and as he cataloged his injuries his panic rose. His limbs were numb, and in some areas he'd lost feeling altogether.
John parted his cracked lips and tried to breath, but it was a challenge, and he was scared. He considered giving up, and letting the cold take him, but he couldn't. He couldn't quite remember, but someone was waiting for him, or coming for him, and he had to stay awake.
John lay there in the cold, counting the minutes, praying that someone would find him. After what felt like hours, John's numb arms registered, but only barely, the feeling of hands grabbing him. He tried to open his eyes, but had no such luck. Frostbitten ears picked up on a faint calling.
"John? Jesus . . . somebody get help!" Then there was another voice. It was closer, and more familiar.
"John, can you hear me? Are you all right? Please, answer me." John groaned as he was slowly dragged into a sitting position. "It's all right. You're safe now, I've got you."
John felt warm familiar hands brushing snow and ice from his eyes. He peeled them open, but icy winds stung him and tears fell, freezing before they could run down his face. The long arms wrapped around him, and John's face was pulled into a thick coat. He let out a sigh, and the tears flowed freely now as he was gripped tighter.
"It's okay John. It's me, Sherlock. I'm here, I've got you," Sherlock whispered into John's ear as he shuddered violently. John's eyes widened slightly at Sherlock's name and he knew that this was whom he'd been waiting for.
"Sh-sherlock?" he breathed out, as if he hadn't believed it.
"Yes John, I'm here. An ambulance is on the way. You're going to be fine, just stay with me."
"I waited."
"I know, and I'm so sorry. I should have figured it out sooner. I'm sorry John," Sherlock muttered as he rocked him back and forth in a feeble attempt to warm John up.
"Sherlock . . ." John trailed off, and his eyelids fluttered.
"John? John I need you to stay awake. I know you're tired, but please, just a few more minutes." John squinted and peered up at the man with the curly hair, and smiled.
"I waited for you, and you came." Sherlock smiled sadly.
"I was a little late, I'm afraid." John leaned into his friend.
"I will always wait for you, Sherlock."