Lots of swearing, and also, to find out about triage go back a chapter, and read my notes about it, or wiki it. It's kind of the main focus here. With thanks to Laura Scofield, who is the only one to have reviewed so far! C'mon peeps. Reviews make people (like me) happy. I'm looking at you Jenny. You promised. You promised Arthur Weasly geocaching too, but that is a more long term commitment.
Chapter Four – Taking Triage
Sherlock knelt on the floor in front of John, not moving, watching him, until he was sure that John was breathing steadily and evenly. He got up and sat beside him, his ankles and feet complaining. John tried to control his breathing, but Sherlock knew that the panic hadn't left him, yet.
"You don't want to, you know." John said abruptly.
"Don't want to what?" Sherlock asked, but he had the feeling that he already knew.
"Take triage. It's bloody awful." He was gasping for breath again, sounding like he was going to cry. "Looking at people, friends, thinking; you're gonna die, can't save you, you might die, I might be able to save you. I'm messed up."
"These are perfectly normal psychological reactions to—"
"I don't care!" John yelled, voice almost breaking with pain, exhaustion, frustration. "I don't bloody care if it's normal or not! You and the fucking therapist! It may be normal, but-but—", he was crying now, tears pouring down his face. "But I'm just alone Sherlock. All fucking alone, and nobody really knows," he sinks back into the sofa, hugging his knees, curled up in a ball, shaking. All his anger seemed to have left him and he is sad. So very, very sad. "I'm all alone Sherlock." He whispered. He rested his head on his knees, tears running down his cheeks.
He looks so vulnerable that Sherlock wanted to reach out, embrace him and hold him tightly. All the emotions he had been holding inside him threatened to overwhelm him, and he swallowed. I keep all my emotions inside me, so I don't get other people hurt by my actions. Slowly, very slowly, he reached out, and pulled John towards him carefully. John let go of his knees, and leant towards Sherlock, his body tense. Sherlock pulled John so his head was resting on Sherlock's chest, wrapping his arms around John, holding him tightly. He can feel John's tense muscles against his arms and chest, and held him, rocking him gently. He hugged him, listening to John's gasping breath.
"Breathe John." He said gently. "Breathe. I'm right here, you're not alone." John relaxed slightly in Sherlock's arms, and so Sherlock holds him, John's head on his chest, until his breathing is even and he is calm. Sherlock helps John to sit up, and watches him.