Handle with care
Standard disclaimer: Sherlock, John and all other mentioned characters belong to BBC and the guys who invented them. I just borrowed them for fun. I wrote this for my personal delight and improving my English, no copyright infringement intended. No money changed hands and no profit is being made.
Chapter 2 was beta-ed by Graveofthefireflies! Many thanks to her and her medical advice.
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Chapter 2
"I… might have a problem here…." He stuttered. "There's at least one scorpion in that package… pretty dangerous one… you need to catch it, now….."
"John?…. Did it sting you?" Sherlock didn't need to hear the answer, he saw it in John's pale and alarmed face.
"Now, Sherlock!… I saw one, but got stung twice… when I reached into the package. They are in the padding."
"What kind of scorpion? Which species?"
"Fat tailed… black ones… fetch them, please…"
Sherlock headed for the package and shut it. Searching it's surroundings for an escaped arachnid. Found none. He took the package and placed it in the freezer… They'd get pretty slow in there, maybe even die. But that wasn't important now, now he needed to care of John.
"Sherlock… I need your help here… Fat tailed…" John staggered towards the kitchen table.
Sherlock returned to him, perplexed.
"Toxic venom, antidote exist…. Symptoms include -" The doctor started.
"I know about that scorpion venom, symptoms include intense pain, numbness, tingling at the site where stung, little or no swelling, muscle twitching and thrashing, restlessness and sometimes inconsolable crying, drooling… Those are most likely for children, adults may…" Sherlock lectured.
"Shut up. This is not helping, in the contrary… Will you - just once - please listen." John took one more step towards the counter. When the first wave of intense pain hit him he swayed, he was actually surprised to feel strong hands on his arms holding him steady. Before he knew what was happening Sherlock had guided his hand under the water of the kitchen sink's faucet and was washing the site thoroughly. Then he inspected the puncture wounds in detail.
There were three sites. One on his wrist and the other ones on the outside of the hand, at the root of the thumb and one hidden between his fingers. If he had been stung within seconds, there must be at least three scorpions in the package.
"Sherlock, you… Oh god…" He panted, the pain growing more intense by the minute, faster than he had expected.
Sherlock didn't speak but dragged him onto the sofa.
"You're sure about the species?" The detective asked again.
"Yes, you need to… you need to do some things for me, Sherlock."
"Lower your hand." Sherlock grabbed his arm roughly and pushed it down besides John's body. He stood up, fetched his phone, dialled, and disappeared into the kitchen.
"Sherlock… I need you to…"
"Mycroft, I need an antitoxin for black fat tailed scorpion venom… and I need it fast… and an ambulance. No… not me, John… three stings. Hurry!" Sherlock came back into the living room, holding a cold package.
"Three?… I need… your…" a wave of breathlessness hit him, the pain was intense. This was bad, and he knew it would get a lot worse soon. He hadn't thought before that it was possible to feel more pain than when being shot. Something cold was wrapped around his hand.
Sherlock pressed a cold compress at his hand, and wrapped a napkin around it to keep it in place.
John looked bad. He was slightly shivering now and Sherlock knew the pain this venom caused was considered bad.
He saw John's panic rise. Why was he panicking? There was an antidote. The ambulance would be here soon.
"Sherlock… I need help." John gasped. He tried curl up as far as he could.
Did John think he wouldn't help him? Was he panicking because he was afraid of that?
"I know, John. You are in severe pain. I will help you." Sherlock was lost about how to calm him down.
"You need to relax, the venom will move faster if your heart rate is up and your pressure high."
"Can't… relax. Go… get my bag, not the one at the wardrobe,… there is a larger emergency bag in the base of my closet, bring that. Use epinephrine.* I might… need help to breathe soon… call Sarah, she'll tell you…" John panted.
"John… You won't need intubation that fast… try to slow your heart rate…" Sherlock tried.
"You don't understand… This is bad…" John tried to curl into a ball on the sofa. "God, hurts…."
"I know what's gonna happen, John… and I know what to do…" He understood John had no means of knowing how much he knew about scorpion stings. But lecturing him now seemed… was it a distraction or doing the opposite? "No, you need to sit up and lower your hand." He bent down towards John and tried to unfold him. John was resisting, he was tense.
"John?" He gently shoved his arm under John's shoulders and lifted him upwards.
"Bloody hell… this bloody hurts…" Tears started running down John's face.
Sherlock positioned him against the backrest of the sofa, upright. John's body tried to curl into a ball again. So Sherlock sat down next to him and held him upright at an arm's length. Was it a good idea to touch him? Though he knew perfectly well he was a failure in being comforting?… Well, assurance couldn't hurt.
"I know about the symptoms of this venom. Don't be alarmed. Help is on the way… Mycroft is bringing the antivenin, and I called an ambulance. No reason to panic!… No, sit straight."
John tried to escape his touch and looked up at him with blurry eyes, the trembling worsened by the minute.
"Get m'… bag." The doctor said, slightly slurring.
"This is a normal symptom of the toxin, don't be alarmed." Sherlock took his wrist to monitor his pulse.
"God… stop it…" John whimpered.
Sherlock was unsure if John wanted him to let go or was referring to something else, but decided it'd be a bad idea to let him go.
"Sorry, you need to keep your hand lower than your heart… breathe slowly, John… Don't be alarmed if you feel your muscle control lessening."
"Meant… to stop… the pain… 'nd nausea…"
"You want me to knock you out?… I am not sure this is the recommended course of action." Sherlock informed. His worry turning up a notch. How could he help John, not in a medical way, but as a friend? Was it that what was needed at all? No, medical aid was far more important. Better not try any experiments about social interaction in this kind of situation, but…?
"Get… m' bag… now!" John panted.
"I will take care of this… Calm down." Sherlock stated without emotions in his voice.
"Bag… pl'se." John grew more agitated by the minute, his voice was slurring more profoundly now.
"Okay, okay." He hurried to the wardrobe to get the bag and was back within seconds.
"What do you want me to do?" He asked, putting the bag down in front of the sofa, then dragged the couch table away. Several things toppled over and fell to the ground. They'd need the space.
"Epi… Epin…" John stammered, shivering harder now.
Sherlock looked down at him, biting his lip. He tried to remember how much to administer. He straightened John again who had sagged forward, not able to held himself up. His clothes were soaked with sweat by now.
"John, stay awake! We are gonna call Sarah and I will not leave you alone…" He gently straightened John's upper body once more and leaned him back against sofa, guiding his head backwards.
John looked lost and helpless, more tears streaming down his face. In disbelieve Sherlock realised he experienced an unsettling new sensation to see him this desperate and in pain.
He fetched John's phone out of his pocket and searched for Sarah's number.
John's trembling was turning into slight twitching now.
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A/N:
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