A short little chapter, in which Sherlock wakes up and has a conversation with John. Happy Reading!
Hours later, a pleasant round faced nurse informed John that Sherlock was out of surgery and resting. At the hopeful look on John's face, she told him that his doctor had sedated him, but that John was welcome to wait in his room if he liked. John was up like a shot, barely pausing to ask the nurse what room. He needed to lay eyes on Sherlock again, convince himself once more that Sherlock was alive and -relatively- well.
Inside the room, John stopped by the bed, letting his eyes take in the sight of his best friend. At first, there was only the initial rush of gratitude that he was alive, the pleasure stark and raw within him that Sherlock was miraculously returned to him. Then, he started to notice all the wounds covering the other man's body. They were many and they were vicious. The gash on his cheek had been closed with nearly a dozen stitches, bruises on his face nearly blacking it all out. His lips were chapped and split. The red rings that had circled his neck when John had first found him had begun to fade, leaving a multicolored welt behind. Even through the hospital gown, John could see Sherlock was severely malnourished. Automatically, his eyes flicked up to make sure the doctors had ordered IV nutrition. Then he continued down. The shoulder had obviously been set then bandaged. If the bulk under the gown was any indication, they'd wrapped his broken ribs up. His right hand had a splint on every finger and a cast around his wrist.
Smiling through the mist covering his eyes, John could already tell how much Sherlock would hate that cast. He guessed it would be two, maybe three days after they got home before Sherlock cut the thing off.
Other seemingly random gashes and lacerations had been cleaned and bandaged. His knee had been operated on and was in a brace, elevated off the bed. Though John couldn't see it, he imagined Sherlock's back had been stitched up and bandaged as well. From what he'd seen, there hadn't been much left to work with. He wondered if they'd considered doing skin grafts. Then, his stomach dropped and he wondered what other repairs they'd had to do as a result of his sexual assault.
John had seen victims of rape during the war. More than he ever cared to admit, and he'd never wanted to have to treat another in his lifetime. The physical damage could be repaired, but couldn't forget the flat, dead look he'd seen in the victims' eyes. It haunted him. Worse, he kept imagining Sherlock looking at him with that same glassy look. As if nothing in the world mattered any more.
"Please don't be like that," he muttered to himself, letting his fingers curl around Sherlock's good hand and squeeze tight.
"Only back a few hours and you're already griping at me?" Sherlock's voice was rough and hoarse, but there was humor in it.
"Sherlock?" John leaned closer and watched as Sherlock's eyelids fluttered, then determinately lifted.
"You were expecting someone else?"
"God, Sherlock! You're awake!" The grin that broke over John's face was wide and genuine. Sherlock chuckled, though it hurt.
"So it would seem." He flashed a smile at John. "And you seem happy to see me. I half expected you to try and lay me out flat."
"Yeah, well you're already flat, aren't ya mate?" John shook his head. "Don't get me wrong, I felt like punching someone when I found out you'd been alive this whole time and no one told me, but you were pretty far down on the list."
"Because I'm already injured? Sentiment, John," Sherlock tutted and shook his head.
"Call me soft, but I couldn't seem to want to inflict any more damage on you. I think you're full up. And I've already caused you enough harm." Their eyes met, locked.
"John..." Sherlock shook his head stoically. "Mycroft told you why, then?" At his silence, Sherlock continued on. "There wasn't any other way. You know if there had been one I would have thought of it. This was the only way-"
"Just shut up," John interrupted him. Sherlock blinked, his mouth still open, then he closed it. His brows drew together as he observed the other man. John was truly a sight for sore eyes. After all the time Sherlock had spent missing him, it was wonderful, joyous even, to see him in the flesh. But now that he really looked, he could see the dark rings under John's eyes. The lines on his face that hadn't been there before. The premature grey hairs streaking his temple. The doctor had lost weight, not enough to make him look sickly, but enough to cause alarm.
And those were just the things on the surface. Sherlock could see, in that one look, what John's life had been during the two years of his absence. He could read in every minute detail the pain and loss John had suffered. How strongly it had affected him. The toll it had taken.
"You have had a hard time of it, haven't you John?" The words were soft and full of remorse.
"Me?"
"I wish there had been another way."
"Me? Sherlock, you're in the hospital recovering from more injuries than any man has a right to survive, and you're telling me I had it rough?"
"Physical pain can be dealt with much more easily than emotional pain," Sherlock said dismissively. If John hadn't been watching- really watching- he might have missed the flash of torment that had flared in Sherlock's eyes. But he didn't miss it. And instantly, his mind went back to what Sherlock had suffered. Should he broach the subject? Pretend he didn't know? Hope Sherlock would come to him in his own time? Dare he recommend talking to someone professional about it?
The concept was laughable, actually. Sherlock detested shrinks. Thought they were all insipid twits. There was no way he would want to bare his soul to one. So what did that leave? John thought back to what Mycroft had said. Sherlock was the most brilliant man John knew. He was obviously still in full possession of his mental faculties. And John certainly wasn't going anywhere. Sherlock's mind and John's heart, that was what would get them through this.
"John?"
John looked up again and found Sherlock studying him intently.
"Sorry. Just...I'm just so glad you're back."
"Me too, John. Me too."
Its short, I know, but its just the precursor to the next chapter which I promise will be longer.
