I spent the last 2 days with a bandage on my hand, bored out of my mind, so I sat in bed and watched Sherlock. I then wondered what Sherlock would be like if he injured his hand. Thus this fic happened at 11pm last night. Though I've written tons of fanfics before, I've never gotten around to actually finishing one, so this is my first ever completed fic, though it is a bit short XD
Sherlock belongs to the BBC, and as much as I wish I owned it, I don't :'(
Sherlock and John were sat in Speedys, sipping on strong coffee. It was incredibly cold outside and John was gripping his cup tightly to warm his chilly hands.
"Are you OK Sherlock?" John inquired. He noticed that his flat mate was looking a little weary and out of it, more so than usual, and he lacked that spark of enthusiasm that usually accompanied him when he was on a particularly clever case. He also noticed a slight sheen of sweat covering Sherlocks face, which wouldn't be so strange had it been a hot summers day, as the heating in Speedys seemed permanently turned on, yet it was the middle of winter and John was worried about his friend.
"Im fine! Argh!" Sherlock, who had been trying to text on his phone, threw it down onto the table in anger.
"This stupid hand!" He waved his bandaged hand in the air "I can't even send a bloody text!"
Sherlock previous case had led him to a fight with a particularly large, knife-wielding man, and though Sherlock had managed to successfully win the brawl, he hadn't come away unscathed. The palm of his hand had been sliced open, and was fairly deep, but Sherlock being Sherlock had refused any stitches or treatment, and had only allowed it to be bandaged up saying 'It was only a scratch and that it would be fine'
John had agreed that he would only bandage it, so long as Sherlock continued to change the dressing often.
"Sherlock, when was the last time you changed that bandage?" John was sure that he had spotted traces of blood on the bandage as Sherlock had waved his hand. Surely it should have stopped bleeding by now, even with Sherlock trying to use his hand as though the wound wasn't really there.
"I honestly don't remember John, now shh, I'm trying to think" Sherlock clenched his jaw and closed his eyes.
"Sherlock, will you let me take a look at it for a minute?" Concern was showing all over John face, his eyebrows knitted together with worry.
Sherlock opened his eyes slowly, rolled them, and held his palm out to John.
"If you intend to read my future, ill tell you now, it doesn't work" Sherlocks bad attempt at humor had John worried. It wasn't like him at all.
John took Sherlocks hand in his and only had to look at the bandage for a second to see that the wound was clearly infected. It was damp and stained with blood and pus and John could smell the pungent smell that accompanied infected flesh.
"Sherlock! You need to change this right away! Its infected! And by the looks of you, its making you ill!" John was cross and he held onto Sherlocks wrist tightly.
"We're going back right now so that I can clean it! And you'll need antibiotics too!" He pulled on Sherlocks wrist, but Sherlock yanked it back.
"John, can't you see I'm in the middle of a case? Its terribly important that it gets solved, and soon! A mans life may depend on it Besides, I barely notice it, I need not worry myself with such things. Its fine"
"Such things? Sherlock, its a wound that is making you ill! I can assure you that it is definitely something to worry about! Now come on, we're going back right now so that I can change that god awful bandage!" John hadn't realised that he had raised his voice so loud in his concern for Sherlocks wellbeing, and the few other people in the tiny cafe was now all staring that the two men squabble.
"Now John, no need to cause a scene" Sherlock stood up and gently ushered John out of the cafe and into the cold wind outside.
Once they were back inside the warmth of thier flat, John instructed Sherlock to sit in one of the chairs in thier living room and that he'd be back in a moment.
Sherlocks hand must have been giving him more grief that he was letting on because he obediently complied.
John disappeared into the bathroom, where he poured a bowl of warm water and added a few capfuls of TCP antiseptic. He then retrieved a small green first aid kit from his room upstairs and headed back into the living room where Sherlock was still sat in silence, slouched in the chair.
John knelt down beside Sherlock, whos hand was resting palm-up on the arm of the chair.
"This is going to hurt like hell" He looked into Sherlocks eyes, and Sherlock nodded, urging the Doctor to continue.
"Though its your own fault for being such a careless idiot! I think you deserve it!" He gave Sherlock a sharp, disapproving glare.
"Ok, I take that back, no one deserves this" He said gently, as he started to unwrap the bandage. Seeing the condition that the bandage was in made him want to clip Sherlock round the ear for being so careless. He held Sherlocks hand as gently and as steady as he could as he tugged at the thin, sticky bandage.
As John got closer to the wound, he found that the blood and pus had done well to stick the layers of the bandage together and John was continually apologizing as he had to really pull at the bandage to unwrap it from Sherlocks hand, causing him pain.
Also, as he neared the gash, the smell became worse and even Sherlock had to cover his mouth and nose with his shirt sleeve to avoid gagging.
"Ok, this is the worst bit" John had gotten down to the very last piece of bandage that was covering the wound. The blood and pus had dried around and through the bandage, making it hard, and peeling the last bit off would certainly reopen the slice in his hand.
"I promise I'll be quick" And as he said that, John ripped the last of the sticky bandage from Sherlocks hand tossed it across the floor so they could no long smell its pungent odor.
"Argh!" Sherlock let out a sharp cry before gritting his teeth once more. The pain clearly visible on his usually unreadable face.
The wound was open now and was weeping fresh blood and clear pus. John quickly rested the bowl of warm water on the arm of the chair and carefully placed Sherlocks hand inside. Sherlock let out a hiss as the antiseptic touched his wound.
"Im going to clean it, then sew it, but before I do, I need to be rid of all that dried stuff around the surface"
John pulled on a pair of sterile gloved from the first aid kit and began to slosh the water over Sherlocks palm as gently as he could.
The water was turning a nasty dark brown colour from the dried blood and pus that was coming away from Sherlocks hand, mixed in with the fresh blood of the wound.
The only sound that could be heard in the flat was the sound of water slopping in the bowl and after a few minutes of John washing the gash, he decided that it was now clean enough, the dried blood and pus had all gone and there was now only the large gash surrounded by soft pink skin.
John took Sherlocks hand and dried it very carefully, then searched through his first aid kit, pulling out some cotton wool balls and some tweezers, both wrapped in sterile wrapping. He then got up and headed to the kitchen, and began to search around in the cupboards.
"Sherlock, where have you put the iodine?" He closed another unsuccessful cupboard.
"Its behind the brown sauce" Sherlock didn't look up as he spoke as he was too deeply engrossed in staring closely at the slice in his hand, studying it carefully.
"Im not even gong to ask" John replied as he fetched the iodine from the shelf that housed the condiments.
He returned to Sherlock who held his hand back out to John in an almost bored manner, but John knew that he just wanted it over with quickly.
John poured some of the iodine into the cap of the bottle and then removed the tweezers and cotton wool from thier wrappers. He used the tweezers to soak the cotton wool in the brown liquid before dabbing it gently onto Sherlocks palm. Sherlock ground his teeth in response but didn't utter a sound.
"Im sorry, I don't mean to hurt you" Johns voice was soft, he really didn't want to hurt his friend.
"John, stop apologizing and get on with it, I have a case to solve" Sherlock replied through his clenched teeth.
John frowned and jabbed a little harder with the swab.
"That's done now, just got to sew it up"
John rummaged through the first aid kit once more and pulled out the needle and thread required for sewing wounds. He threaded the needle and placed Sherlocks hand down onto the arm of the chair so that he could use his other hand to firmly hold Sherlocks hand still.
"I've sewn much worse you know" John tried to make small talk to distract Sherlock but it didn't work, Sherlock just continued to stare at the wound, fascinated by what John was about to do, no doubt trying to save the process to memory.
John was very neat with the stitches and assured Sherlock that the scar would be minimal, though it would have been a lot less had he accepted stitches in the first place.
Once he was all sewn up, John wrapped a new bandage around the freshly cleaned cut and tidied away the dirty swabs and old bandage.
"All done, though I'm going to have to prescribe you some antibiotics, as the infection has spread, which is why you've got a fever. Your temperature is so high, I suggest you're better off resting today, you don't want to make yourself more ill. Make sure you keep that hand raised to, it helps" John was very concerned for his friend as the infection was quite bad and Sherlock couldn't have been feeling all too well, though he would never show it. It was only the sweat from his fever that gave him away earlier.
"I don't get ill John! Its terribly inconvenient and gets in the way of my work!" Sherlock snapped back. He was very touchy when it came to illness it seemed.
"Sherlock, that's ridiculous, everyone gets ill at some point! Even great consulting detectives like yourself! Now I suggest you go and lie down and take the day off!" John snapped back. He was only trying to care for his friend.
"Its impossible for me to take a day off when my brain is continuously ticking away, always thinking. Besides, there is no way that you could actually keep me here!" Sherlock actually smiled. He knew he was right, John wasn't going to do anything if he tried to leave the flat.
"Actually, I have my gun in my pocket and don't think I wont use it!" John said in a light tone.
"Oh please, you wouldn't shoot me, don't be so preposterous!" Sherlock actually chuckled at Johns threat.
"Oh no, you're right, I wouldn't shoot...to kill. Maybe just a bullet in your foot or perhaps in you're other hand hmm? Which would you prefer?" John said this with such a straight face and in such a calm tone whilst he was putting away the bowl he had used that Sherlock was almost sure that he was telling the truth.
"I just want you to get better, that's all. You know what? Lets compromise. Ill call LeStrade and have him bring over those case files you were asking for, and you can look them over. Or better yet, I shall pick them up on my way back from picking up your antibiotics from the chemist. That should keep you going for today at least"
Sherlock could see that John was concerned and he sighed in defeat. It wasn't often that he would let someone tell him what to do, but John was a doctor and his friend and he knew what was best.
"Fine!" He huffed "But before you go, could you make me a cuppa? I would but I'm supposed to be resting" Sherlock waved his newly bandaged hand in the air before resting it across his chest, above his heart to keep it raised. He had a big grin on his face and John couldn't help but retrieve a mug from the draining board and flick on the kettle. At least he had gotten Sherlock to compromise, an act which had most surprised him, and with antibiotics and a little bit of rest, he knew his good friend would be better in no time.