Disclaimer: If either Sherlock or Leverage were mine I'd be doing a happy dance.

"Eliot? Are you alright?"

"Yeah Nat, just a little gunshot wound to the side. Nothin' to be concerned about." As he pressed his hand harder into his side he felt a mite concerned at the fact that the blood hadn't even slowed in its steady trickle. The bullet must still be inside, he realized.

"I'm sending Hardison to get you."

"No! I've already compromised the mission, we can't let the mark get away!" With this amount of damage he was going to need a hospital- or one really good army doctor.

"You're bleeding man! Let me come and get you, take you to see a doctor!"

"No! Besides, I already got a doctor that can patch me up."

"In London? Who is it? Doctor Who?"

"Nah, but he is the best." And he just had to hope that John was at home.

LEVERAGESHERLOCKLEVERAGESHERLOCK

John was having a peaceful day doing nothing.

Sherlock was off doing who-knows-what at Bart's, the clinic hadn't called, he had a fresh cup of tea at hand and was just opening his blog to write-up another of their cases.

Just as he settled down a knock came from the front door. Setting his laptop to the side he went to answer it as Mrs. Hudson was visiting her sister.

Opening the door he was met by a face he hadn't seen in years.

"Eliot?"

"Hey John. Sorry to bother you, but you wouldn't happen to still have your kit, would you?" Noticing the blood soaking one side his friend's shirt he quickly led the man upstairs and sat him in the bathroom.

Quickly grabbing his old kit from his army days- though, thanks to Mycroft, it was filled with fresh supplies as Sherlock was prone to injury and hated hospitals- he set to work.

"I would ask how, but I'm not too sure I want to know."

"It's not what you think, Doc."

"I'm sure." Quickly removing the bullet he cleaned the wound, making certain there was no internal hemorrhaging John started stitching the ragged hole closed.

"I've turned over a new leaf, I'm doing good work with a group now. We help out those who most need it, but can't get it."

"Sounds nice." John said absently as he tied off the last stitch.

"Yeah, it really is." Holding the gauze in place while the doctor taped it down, Elliot finally felt his adrenaline waning.

"Let's get you in bed. You've lost a lot of blood and I'll need to replace that as well as get you an IV drip to prevent infection." Too tired now to question how the pensioned off ex-army doctor would be able to get that kind of equipment, let alone the IV bags and extra blood, Elliot let himself be tucked into John's' bed.

"Thanks Doc, don't know what I'd've done if ya hadn't taken me in."

"Not a problem, I'll always be ready to help out a friend."

Unable to keep his eyes open any longer the injured man fell asleep feeling safe. As unconsciousness finally drew him down Elliot had one moments worry: How was the team going to get on without their hitter?

LEVERAGESHERLOCKLEVERAGESHERLOCK

"John!" Sherlock called as he entered the flat. When no answer was forth coming he made his way around in search of clues as to where his blogger could have gone.

His coat was gone, so he was out- obviously- but they didn't need anything from the store, and his briefcase was still here so it wasn't that clinic he spent time at.

The cold cup of tea sitting forgotten by his chair said that John had left in a rush.

Looking in the bathroom he had a moments panic- not that he would ever admit to that- when he saw the bloody shirt and used medical supplies.

Quickly deducing that John had been treating someone else, and not himself, he relaxed.

Heading to John's room- it being the last place to check now that he had some idea of where John was- Sherlock looked over the sleeping figure.

Backing out quickly and quietly- not wanting to disturb the obviously trained killer- Sherlock decided to wait for John in the sitting room.

It would be easier to get answers directly from the source after all.