**little Martin Crieff cameo I popped in there hope you don't mind and if you do you can leave now. But sorry it took so long I've been dealing with a lot of shit as of late plus using the iPad is a pain in the ass.**
"Uh- um. Hello? I- uh, S-Sherlock?" called the stuttering voice of Martin. "It's, um... Breakfast."
Sherlock groaned and turned over to glare at Martin.
"Stop it," Martin said, almost forcefully. "I mean it Sherlock!"
Sherlock rolled off the top bunk and landed with a low thud. "John," Sherlock cooed.
"I'm coming," John grumbled.
Sherlock sat on the side of the bed and wrapped John's arm around his shoulders. Martin fumbled awkwardly with the keys when the door finally heaved open. The two men shuffled slowly down the corridor followed by Martin, who occasionally tried to make gawky chit chat.
"Martin, don't make small talk. It's not really your area."
"Cell block 221B has the showers," was announced over the PA.
John and Sherlock were escorted to the showers by Martin, who continued to interrupt John's attempt at conversation.
"I- um. I'll come get you in 20 minutes..." Martin stumbled over his words before, and in turn, stumbled out the door.
"How could they make that man a prison guard?" John joked as he pulled off his white undershirt.
"Honestly, he's quite assertive normally," said Sherlock doing the same and slumping down onto the bench.
"So what's different?" John said, slipping off his jumpsuit.
"Me." Sherlock couldn't help but stare. John chuckled as he removed the last of his clothes and heaved himself off the cool metal. Sherlock reconnected with John and gave a half smile when he felt John tense up. They shuffled awkwardly to where the shower heads hung; Sherlock dropped John's arm and moved to his own shower tap.
"I- erm..." John cleared his throat,. "Thanks."
Sherlock smirked as he reached out and flicked on his water. The showers roared to life, and soon the room was filled with steam. Sherlock looked over at his new companion; John was slouched, hunched, against the wall as the hot water ran down his badly injured body. A low groan escaped John's lips as the liquid turned his tan skin red, and his red skin purple.
The cuts and nicks almost glowed red, and Sherlock could swear he saw the pulse of blood as it rushed to the affected areas. The water that pooled around John's feet was tinged an orangey-red, and was almost gruesome as it circled the drain.
"John?" Sherlock's voice faltered just slightly.
"Hm?" John's voice was low and rough. "M'fine, it's just... really hot."
Sherlock almost laughed at his choice of words, and the color that flooded John's already red face.
"Uh, hello?" the small nervous voice of Martin echoed in the shower room. "Mr. Watson? The, um, the medical wing told me to bring you these."
"Yes, fine," John huffed, "just leave it on the bench."
"Yeah, okay," Martin squeaked.
John shut the water off and leaned up against the tiles. John's skin seemed to leak out steam as the hot water dripped off his body. Sherlock ran a hand thought his hair and cut off his shower, he then linked arms with John again and led him to where Martin had previously left the new gauze.
Sherlock dried off, eyeing John as he nursed his wounds. Sherlock straightened up, pulling on a clean undershirt.
"John," Sherlock hesitated, "how did it feel?"
John pulled the gauze tight and pinned them closed, he sighed. "It didn't feel great."
A quiet understanding passed through the both of them, and they spent the majority of the evening in a comfortable silence.
"Well, you two certainly are quiet," chirped Martin as he dropped them off after yard time. Sherlock shot him a dirty look and returned Martin to his stuttering, bumbling old self"Er, r-right, um, um right. I-I'll be back for... For dinner... Ok..."
As Martin awkwardly skirted away, Sherlock sighed and lowered himself onto John's bunk. John's head hit Sherlock's shoulder almost immediately out of fatigue. Sherlock's eyes widened as he watched John let out a long sigh into his shirt, and then he suddenly flopped backwards onto the lumpy mattress.
"You should rest," Sherlock's eyes wandered lazily over John's still slightly damp body. "I'll rouse you when the idiot returns."
John grunted in reply, and Sherlock smiled softly to himself.