3. Touched

When John awoke, He was lying on a large white leather bench in a darkened office. His coat had been removed and he lay shirtless. A sheet had been folded under him. He sat up on his elbows and noticed that it was dotted with many small bloodstains. Mycroft's dark silhouette approached him. He was holding a wet white cloth. He sat on edge of the bench beside him and dabbed at his bare shoulders.

"Where are we?" John asked.

"Still at the hospital. A private office. I know the director." Mycroft said, "You fainted."

John dropped back down on the bench looking up. Mycroft hovered over him. He had removed his coat, and the bottom two buttons of his vest had been undone. "You are a very brave man." Mycroft said, " Saving Sherlock's life...again."

"No you have it wrong." John said, "He saved me. Threw me behind a barrier or else I'd be in that emergency room with him now."

"But before that, you saved him." Mycroft said, "Pushed him out of the way of a bullet so my sources tell me. And let's not forget that your early care was instrumental in helping him to pull through. I owe you many thanks ...Captain John Watson."

"Oh yes, Mary! I have to call her." John said trying to rise.

Mycroft placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down. "It's already being handled," he said, "One of my people has called her. Told her about Sherlock's injuries, and said that you were injured only superficially and she need not worry about you. That you would be home in the morning."

John exhaled and relaxed on the couch. Mycroft rubbed his chest with the damp towel as John closed his eyes. "You just lie still and don't worry about a thing. Rest is the best cure for you now." John was exhausted from shock and worry. It was relaxing to feel the damp towel on his skin. John's muscles loosened under Mycroft's firm touch.

"Turn over John so that I can towel your back." Mycroft said his voice deep and soothing. John began to turn, then Mycroft put out a hand, "Wait." he said, "let me loosen your clothing."

Mycroft slowly, carefully undid John's belt. He removed it. Then he opened the top button of John's trousers. When he started to move the zipper, John began to open his eyes. Mycroft shushed him and turned him over onto his stomach. John relaxed down onto the bench one arm on either side of it, his head turned away from Mycroft.

He could feel the cool cloth rubbing across his back in large circles. At first it seemed that Mycroft used two hands, but over time he took one away. John flinched as the cloth rubbed against a deep scratch and Mycroft stopped. But then the rubbing began again, and John sank back into an almost slumber.

He could hear Mycroft breathing deeply as he rubbed his back. Each stroke, each breath relaxed John further until he was on the edge of consciousness. Then Mycroft's breath became quicker and more ragged as Mycroft's strokes became sharper and more jerky. The circles that he traced on John's back reached lower and lower until they pushed down the edge of his trousers.

Then the towel was gone, but Mycroft's breathing continued faster and deeper so that he sounded almost like he was hyperventilating. John thought that perhaps he should try to help him but he was so relaxed he didn't feel able to move yet.

Suddenly Mycroft made a small cry and sighed deeply. The bench rocked and he sighed again. Then Mycroft stood and John heard his footsteps leaving the room and the sound of water running in the private bathroom.

Sometime later, John couldn't tell how long because he had dozed off, a hand touched his back before covering it with a sheet. He turned his head. "Oh Mycroft. Thank you for cleaning my wounds. Do you still have that damp cloth?

Mycroft pressed his lips together in a strange expression. "No. I seem to have misplaced it. You rest. I'll send someone to get you as soon as we hear anything about Sherlock." He said. John nodded and fell asleep.