Lessons in friendship 5 - Practising to give

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Chapter 3

"John?... What's happening?"

The next moment John's whole body sagged forward.

Sherlock was perplexed and barely managed to keep his friend's head from colliding with the front seat. He managed to guide his slumping body sideways.

"John?"

Had he passed out from hyperventilating?

No, too soon… for that he'd have to breathe on like that for at least four more minutes.

Stress?

John had said his body might switch him off when the stress gets too severe.

"John?… Don't do this!" Sherlock begged and check his breathing.

He opened his seatbelt and positioned him on his side. The back of John's head lolled against his thigh and he hurried to hold it and cushion it with his scarf.

To his relief he found his flatmate was breathing fine, shallow but otherwise okay. He felt the neck for a pulse, fast but not weak.

When the car door opened, Sherlock jerked in surprise. Lestrade sat down in the driver's seat and turned around to them.

"What happened?"

"I think maybe the… stress made him… pass out?"

"That happened before?"

"Haven't seen it. Though he hinted that the stress might be overwhelming."

"Yeah, most likely he'd hide from you before it would get this far. He probably doesn't want to be seen like this. Maybe we should bring him to a hospital after all." Lestrade started the engine.

"No. It's also possible that the medication was strong enough to knock him?"

Sherlock pulled out his phone and started to google the brand name he had read on the small flask.

"Why are you so sure about that?"

"Because after Baskerville he told me what might be good and what not in this kind of situation. Safe environment: good, embarrassment: bad."

"I don't believe this," Lestrade muttered.

"What?" Sherlock recognised he was getting more stressed by the minute.

"You have started to care? Now when did that happen?"

"Shut up. I try to think here."

He needed to concentrate on other things than teasing or getting insulted right now.

"And what about would that be?" Lestrade wanted to know, sounding puzzled.

"He needs safe… and good… things, comforting things."

"God, you really mean business?"

"Shut up!" Sherlock closed his eyes to block out irritating input.

What did John usually do when he tried to comfort him?

Stupid, he usually had blocked John's tries to comfort him. And John had left him alone after being sent away or insulted for his efforts too often. Though John had comforted him, he tried to remember how exactly it had happened.

Non-invasive touch: caring, head, not to gentle, firm, steadying… Check, already doing that, continue. Talking: low, soothing, turquoise in shade, mind-busying... Check, doing that, keeping it up when awareness returns.

Positive stimuli: taste, sounds, textures, smells, … Check, partially done, continue at home.

Textures.

Set mental reminder to provide comfort clothes and...?

Keep this thread for later use, find place to deposit activator: floor of the flat in front of entrance door, add copy to action: 'removing my coat'.

Create 'safe environment' and 'change to do in the flat as soon as home': change the mood of light to safe/warm/bright, keep temperature nice, make tea, find soothing music.

Comforting: further search - related thoughts: no information given by John (didn't know himself, Quote: 'Being able to receiving care depends on the person trying to give').

Sherlock finally realised he had to explore and find his own comforting-John mechanisms.

Slippery topic, too much to ruin-area.

"Sherlock!" Greg almost yelled.

"What is it?" Sherlock sounded distracted, ripped out of his concentration.

"He's coming to, I guess."

Lestrade was right, Sherlock still had his hand under John's head and held his shoulder to keep John's back leaned against the backseat to prevent him from rolling towards the gap. John's position must be everything but comfortable.

They were still unbuckled. Lestrade hadn't criticised it, probably because London's streets were so clogged today they hadn't moved faster than 25 km/h.

Though it was not really like Lestrade not to insist. Things were off, even Greg was affected.

John gently stirred and tried to lift his head.

"ETA?"

"Four to five minutes… Oh, no, more like ten today I guess.." Lestrade sighed when he had to stop again.

"John?"

The doctor's eyes opened, unfocussed and disoriented.

"The rain is really… loud in here," Sherlock tried to provide a focus before John had time to remember to panic. "I am gonna light the fireplace as soon as we get home. Want some Chinese takeout tonight, John?"

It took a moment until John's eyes fixed on him and the very moment their eyes met, the memory returned to John. Sherlock tightened his grip at his friend's shoulder.

John's head turned and when he realised he was resting against Sherlock he tried to get up.

"Don't move, yet… slowly," he added when John struggled out of his grip and sat up, leaning against the backrest in a normal position.

Sherlock assumed the other man's vision was blurry when his gaze finally returned to Sherlock. The emotions passing John's eyes were clearly visible.

Embarrassment replaced the last hint of panic, but was soon replaced by sheer exhaustion and… surprise?

Did he remember what had happened?

How much? … And what Sherlock had tried?

Was it not good? Had he been overstepping a line?

John must have seen the questions in his face because he minutely shook his head.

"Not now, please."

"Lestrade, would you like to come for a beer in the evening?" Sherlock addressed the DI, trying to give John some privacy and to make small talk.

He could feel Lestrade frown. He knew it might seem to be tactless but Lestrade only needed about seven seconds to understand why he wasn't talking about the case, the explosion or what had just happened.

"I don't know, yet… I'll send you a text. Maybe I'll bring takeout in case you want to wait with dinner… I'll be in contact."

The car stopped and Sherlock saw that they were home.

"Ok, let's get upstairs, where it is dry and warm."