Chapter 2 - The Alarm is Raised
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Robin once again woke to a bland white ceiling. It was dim in the room, and Robin's eyes hurt less when she opened them. She was stiff but didn't feel as groggy anymore. Looking about the room, she admired the few flowers she had received silently, a small smile gracing her face. Although it had been a week since she had been in the hospital and some of the bouquets were wilting, she still greatly cherished those flowers. Hopefully, she'd be able to bring them home tomorrow.
Robin's brow furrowed. 'Tomorrow…I'll be going back home tomorrow,' she thought. The hacker knew that she still had a long road to recovery, but at least she was stable and relatively self-sufficient. She still couldn't quite hear out of her right ear, although that was slowly getting better. It would probably never be the same, but at least she hadn't lost her hearing completely in the ear. Her back was still sore, but she spent quite some time each day on her side, laying delicately so that her wound could heal naturally. Her head, too, was feeling better and now stitch free, although she still experienced headaches much too often. Overall, she just wanted to get home. It would be harder to take care of herself there, sure, but she didn't want to spend more time here.
What had she already missed, she thought? It had been a week and she had already missed John's attempt at proposing to Mary, although he had come in with his girlfriend yesterday and had explained how it went. It was lovely, of course, and quite a usual evening, which suited the pair perfectly after all the chaos surrounding Moran. That is until Sherlock had arrived. Robin huffed. Her plan had been to distract the detective long enough for John to propose, thanks to Mycroft, but apparently the brother's meeting had been shorter than they all had hoped. Sherlock had barged in on the proposal, spouting something about being officially alive again, and the evening had been ruined in the whirlwind that had ensued.
Not only had she missed congratulating her best friend, she'd missed Sherlock's re-emergence into society. She had been hoping to be at her computer, monitoring the news and enjoying the look on people's faces. Instead, she had been stuck to watching a short mention of it on the telly before a nurse shut it off. She apparently wasn't supposed to be exposing herself to too many stimuli, due to the head injury, and she had already browsed her computer that day. Sadly, it had been her normal laptop, too, so she couldn't do much concerning her work. She sighed, closing her eyes and pinching her brow.
Looking to her left, she was once again surprised to find Sherlock in the chair next to her bed. He seemed engrossed in thought. Why hadn't she noticed him right away?
Surely he hadn't come here to look after her? The detective didn't do that, simply didn't. Why was he here then? Was he angry that she'd arranged for him to be 'distracted' with Mycroft while John proposed? It wasn't like it had worked anyway.
She hadn't seen the detective since the first day she had truly been conscious when he had visited with Lestrade and John, which had been a very fortuitous coincidence. Honestly, him visiting in the evening, probably past visiting hours, was quite ominous. It tugged at her gut, and she didn't know whether it was a good feeling or one born from trepidation at the possibility of bad news.
"S-so…comment ça va?" she stuttered out, hoping to bring Sherlock out of his thoughts before she became too anxious. Gladly, it worked. He seemed to react immediately, straightening up and turning towards her. Getting a better angle, Robin briefly noted that Sherlock was looking like he normally did, and the little bruise that he had had was gone. His expression was slightly peeved, as per usual, but he looked…cold.
"You're awake, good. I've picked up a terrorist case for Mycroft and you'll be helping with reconnaissance," he stated bluntly, getting right down to business. This didn't phase Robin anymore, however, and she much preferred it to any of the other more touchy subjects they were both avoiding.
"Alright," she agreed, silently cheering at getting some work once she got out of the god-forsaken hospital.
"Lestrade has also been informed about the attack…apparently the terrorist alert level has been raised. With Moran gone, for now, it's prudent we keep all other possible threats at bay until we find him."
"Of course," nodded Robin, simply enjoying herself as she watched Sherlock rant.
"Hopefully John will be able to pull himself away from Mary for a while, as well. He's still cross that I interrupted his little plan. I'm sure Mary will see reason and persuade him to come along. I don't expect we'll be able to do much to begin with, as it normally goes with secretive organizations, but at least this will be something to do."
"How was the proposal going, you know, before you interrupted it," asked Robin, switching subjects suddenly and referring to John and Mary.
"It was a traditional proposal, fancy restaurant, and all. Nothing really interesting to note…not that I'd be able to give you any specific details," grumbled Sherlock, giving Robin a pointed look. Robin laughed a bit, winced, and give him a lopsided smile.
"Since you interrupted it," supplied Robin, causing Sherlock to groan.
"Oh, don't you start too!"
"I don't think John wanted it to be such a…a public proposal."
Sighing, Sherlock closed his eyes again and sank into his chair, folding his legs and once again steepling his hands. A few moments passed where they both were too absorbed with their thoughts to speak. It had happened quite a bit at Robin's flat, where the two would be discussing something, or even just be in each other's general vicinity, and they'd lapse into this amiable silence that could last for hours.
After some time, Sherlock finally decided upon something and straightened, unfolding his legs and leaning in. He had a very serious look upon his face, his light eyes catching the evening light and setting them ablaze. Robin, giving him her full attention, was enraptured.
"And you will only be doing reconnaissance. I'll be working with John on anything in the field. You are needed only for research, understood?" ground out Sherlock suddenly, words flying out of his mouth as he leaped out of his chair to stand menacingly over Robin's bed.
Recoiling, Robin winced. She had hoped they'd be able to skirt around the subject. She had thought, knowing Sherlock, that he'd completely ignore the fact that she'd saved his life and they'd both be able to move on as amiable friends. That had suited her just fine. Well…she still had to deal with her growing feelings for the detective but she was fine with them being friends. Sure, she'd saved his life but John had probably too a thousand times, and it wasn't such a monumental thing in his line of work. And even if she hadn't lived, sure John and Mr Forester would have mourned but they would have moved on like everyone else and it wouldn't have been such a big thing.
But no, Sherlock had to go and not be himself for once and be…what? Concerned? Robin guessed that's what friends did for one another, but Sherlock wasn't supposed to be like that. He didn't show outward concern…normally.
"I-…Alright. I promise to…to only research unless asked o-otherwise," responded Robin finally, her eyes wide and staring up at the detective. She internally cursed at how broken her speech was, betraying just how she was reacting and how she felt. Breathing in a deep breath, which hurt her back, she decided to take as much control as she could of the situation, at least for as long as she could.
"Sherlock…what happened?" she asked.
The detective seemed to back down, backing away slightly from the bed, but he looked almost pained.
"I-I mean, what happened after I was…I was shot?" Even after a week conscious in the hospital, no one had explained to her exactly what had occurred. She hadn't asked, of course, but still.
Again, Sherlock looked pained. His constitution, the pillar of stubborn dignity that he seemed to always carry around, crumbled a bit. Was he guilty? Something was bothering the man and Robin wished she had his ability to deduce just what it was. He turned away slightly and didn't look at her, concentrating on recalling the events. It didn't take long for him to compose the story though he didn't turn to face her.
"After you were shot, John shot the sniper, although he missed. He did buy enough time, however, for Lestrade to burst in and shoot the sniper in the knee before she was able to get away. I suspect they both had wished for a better shot, but it was dark and hectic so I won't blame them. The rest of his team apprehended the sniper before she escaped, the building was secured and an ambulance was called. The sniper is now in Mycroft's custody after being held by the Yard for a few days. Hopefully, she'll have some information on Moran. Although I doubt it. I deduced that she was a gun-for-hire instead of an operative," explained Sherlock in his normally brisk manner. Robin nodded, in thought.
"But…what happened to you? Was John alright?" she asked, realizing that he'd omitted quite a bit of detail from the story.
"John was unhurt and rode with you in the ambulance to the hospital since he is a veteran doctor and all."
"And…you?"
Sherlock looked flummoxed. Again, his face twisted.
"Of course, you fell on me when the sniper shot so I was taken down with you. It was with quite some maneuvering that…that I was…able to brace you. Apart from that...and I suppose a few bruises, I am fine," finished Sherlock lamely. He had been caught off guard with how direct Robin was being. Sure, he had been the one to broach the subject but it was still quite annoying. The normally timid woman he was used to was adamant about getting answers. Her curiosity and kind nature, both normally curbed, had apparently taken over for the evening.
"I contacted Mycroft as soon as I could. I filled him in on the details and it seemed that we agreed, for once, that it would be best that you recovered in a more familiar hospital." Sherlock seemed, at least for a moment, pleased at himself and also a bit sick at the idea of agreeing with Mycroft, which, in all honesty, was getting to become more of a jest than anything else. Or maybe it was just habit.
Robin nodded, casting her gaze down. Right, everything turned out well then. Everyone's safe.
"The question is, however," started Sherlock, startling Robin. His voice was a bit wary, and he had this constipated glare of his face, "why was it even necessary? Why did John have to call an ambulance for his friend? Why did I have to hold on to someone bleeding out in front of my eyes?" asked the detective coldly.
Robin couldn't meet his eyes. Her mind was buzzing with things that she should say, but her nerves got the better of her. Instead, she became irrationally angry at the detective in front of her.
"Because you were an idiot!" she bit out, not looking up. That seemed to startle the detective as much as it startled her.
"I was completely in control of the situation," he snapped back.
"No, you weren't! You would have gone in alone, unaware, into a room that clearly had to have a sniper in it ready for you! You might have known but are you so bloody full of yourself that you thought you could out-time a ready sniper?"
"Well it wasn't your responsibility to sacrifice yourself for me!" yelled back Sherlock, getting to the root of the problem now. Robin stared at him with wide eyes, disbelieving. 'No, I guess he doesn't get it after all,' she thought.
"You fool," she muttered silently, head lowered again and feeling exhausted. Sherlock was Sherlock, she supposed.
"Of course it's my responsibility to protect you, just as it is with John's. We protect you, Sherlock, that's what the people who care about you do." Robin couldn't quite get the word 'friend' to leave her tongue, so she went with the next best thing.
"You may not care, and I know we haven't known one another very long, but you are an f-friend to me. I would rather die than lose a friend. I'd rather die than let John go through losing you again. You id-" she was cut off by a hand on her face, covering her mouth. Springing from his spot near the foot of Robin's bed, he had shut her up quite efficiently with his hand. He was face to face with her, eyes blazing angrily. Robin had moved back habitually so that to balance himself the detective had to place his other arm around Robin on the other side of the bed. Robin winced, hitting her back as she scooted to the back of her bed. They stared at each other, Sherlock angry and Robin defiant, if not tired.
"You are not disposable, understood?" ground out Sherlock, the pained look coming over his face again, more prominent now. His face reflected a sort of agony in every fine line. His eyes were blazing, but they did not hate her, they calmed but gladly did not revert back to their icy gaze. He didn't remove his hand however, and Robin glared back at him. "You are neither trained nor experienced in these types of things, so you will no longer attempt such a stupid thing again."
This time, Robin was the one to act. She reached up with her good arm and pulled off the hand from her face. Sherlock, however, didn't back down and kept staring right at her, both arms now balancing him around her frame.
"If you had just followed Lestrade's instruction, I could have had time to inform you all of what was happening!"
"You still should not have run in! You can't have known that you could have saved me! It was completely illogical!"
"Don't presume you know what I can and cannot do, Sherlock!"
"Then tell me! You hide everything about you so much so it takes a trip to the hospital's emergency ward for everyone to find out that you have NO next of kin…at all!" yelled Sherlock, who was just as flustered as Robin at this point. The news of her medical records, however, made Robin's blood run cold. She sucked in a breath, choked, and squeezed her eyes shut. 'Merde.' Sherlock had trapped her and there was no escape. He did, however, realize just how much he had pushed Robin. He was almost ready to continue pushing, but a voice, which sounded suspiciously like John's, reminded of how frail her mind could be.
"H-how?" she whispered.
Sherlock, finally calming himself, shook himself mentally. Propping himself up on the edge of Robin's bed hesitantly, he let his arms leave her sides as he backed off a bit. Back straight, he observed the woman in front of him.
"On the way to the hospital John realized that without some sort of record, you could not be admitted. I contacted Mycroft, remembered that you had mentioned he knew more of your history than others and asked to see if he at least had some information. John was quite shocked to find out that you no longer had any next of kin."
"No…I-I-" stuttered Robin, trying to deny it.
"Robin, don't lie. We knew you were isolated, but you seem to literally have no living relations…at all. You have no family, no history of them…nothing. John is already in a tiff about it and I must admit that I did not see it coming. Much of your behaviour, in hindsight, makes more sense now. Along with many of my deductions. No wonder you have no heirlooms in your house," commented Sherlock, who looked thoughtful. "I had deduced it was due to some sort of estrangement, you are a ghost after all, but it seems that is not so."
"I know you are tired and John will have my head if I disturb you anymore, but let me ask you one question."
Robin couldn't breathe very well, she found. It was hard to look at the man in front of her, and she could feel tears pricking her eyes. She was scolding and berating herself for letting this happen. She was shaking and she felt like throwing up. She had also become very sad. The sorrow and anxiety rolled off of her in waves, and she didn't immediately register Sherlock taking her hand. After a moment or two, however, she began to notice his large, warm hand enveloping his.
Feeling his touch, Robin couldn't bring herself to flinch or hate him for it. She felt him begin to rub small circles on her palm, calming her further. She looked up and into his eyes but only found softness, and she couldn't think of why he would want to suddenly comfort her. He didn't seem to notice he was doing it either.
Maybe it was time to tell him something. She wished she could have eased into it, or given him something smaller, but she couldn't help it now.
"J-just one question, please Sherlock. I'm tired," she mumbled, bowing her head. Sherlock's back stiffened, not really expecting her to agree. His shoulders straightened, and his curious energy once again returned to him.
"Where is your family?" he asked, plain and simple.
"T-they aren't anywhere Sherlock. I s-suppose they used to be somewhere, and I guess there once was a lot of them, but all of my immediate family and most of my distant family is dead."
"How?"
"Doesn't matter, they are all dead, Sherlock," Robin stated with such finality.
She didn't mention that although she might have some relative or family branch left, she could not and would not contact them. She felt a tear or two slip down her cheek. She was normally better at controlling her sadness, but it seemed it had been a while and she was just too tired to fight the emotions. The pit of her stomach ached as if it was a chasm, deep and dark.
"I'm all alone."
She didn't see Sherlock's eyes soften and then once again flash with a deep pain. Even he had to feel something for her when she answered like that. He was a cold genius, but he had recently admitted he was no robot. He was strong, but she needed him to be soft, too. She needed something from him now that he had never needed to give before.
Just a touch.
Robin didn't notice Sherlock's hands snaking around her wrists, once again bracing himself around her. She didn't notice how he once again faced her directly, although this time his expression wasn't readable and her head was bowed. The hacker didn't notice how he took her pulse cautiously. She did notice, however, when in the spur of some whim Sherlock's lips pressed gently to her cheek as he brought his head down to catch hers.
Her breath hitched, her eyes were wide and confused, but she doesn't push him away. On his part, it was quite a chase peck, quickly moving on. Although the peck on the cheek was swift, barely there, Robin soon felt Sherlock arms around her, embracing her. Sherlock had propped himself up, now fully sitting on the bed, and had laced his arms around the frail hacker, careful of her back. His fingers found the folds of her hospital gown and the strands of her messy hair. He held onto her lightly but buried his head in the crook of her neck, closing his eyes.
She thought of how inexperienced the two of them were, but how that was fine. She let herself sink into his embrace, just for a moment. She had not been hugged like this in…so long. She let herself fit into the crook of his neck, mirroring his own actions. He smelt fresh but slightly metallic. Had he recently been in a lab? What had he been doing? What was he doing now?
Sherlock's breathing was steady, which calmed her down as well. She needed the calm and she suspected that Sherlock, deep down, needed to make sure she would be fine.
Soon enough, however, he remembered himself. Robin was once again caught unawares as he pulls back suddenly. She had calmed soon after she realized what was going on, but she had gotten too comfortable and as Sherlock retreated quickly she slumped forwards before she could catch herself, causing her to groan lightly.
They stared at each other for a second, not knowing what to do. Both of them were breathing heavily now and Robin could bet that both their hearts were racing. 'MERDE! What am I supposed to do now! Why did you do that!' she cursed in her head. They were both frozen but finally Robin decided to calm down, forcefully dragging in deep breaths. Sherlock could figure out what this meant to him on his own time since she was pretty sure she already knew how she felt about the detective. She was okay with waiting for an answer, but she was tired and needed to sleep.
"Goodnight, Sherlock," she dismissed quietly, still timid. Her comment worked, however, as Sherlock finally snapped out of it, sat up, and nodded stiffly. He seemed to be back to his regular self, but Robin saw that he was awfully rigid.
"Goodnight," he replied before grabbing his coat and leaving her hospital room in a great whirl of motion.
After he left, Robin let out a breath she had been holding and slumped carefully back down. Exhausted, she couldn't wait to leave the hospital.
…
Author's Note: Hey! I'm in an airport! The wifi's nice here.
So, I this chapter did a lot of things. What do you guys think? Reviews, comments, etc. are greatly appreciated. Also, thank you to Mynean Rebel and bored411 for the first reviews!
(I edited this. Thank you to Mynean Rebel for the advice. Hopefully this is better.)
Cheers,
Elleari
