Chapter 4
AN: Firstly I'd like to thank everyone for reviews and follows. It has been ages since I've updated this! Also, thanks for bearing with my younger writing. You might notice a difference in my newer chapter than the ones done two years ago. Anyways onto Johnlock!
The first thing I was aware of was a pleasant numbness in my head. My thoughts were as slow as a snail; in other words, as slow as the rest of the human race. So they had put me on painkillers. But why? I felt a faint tugging at my wrist and located the IV with my other hand, eyes still closed. I yanked it out. My drug days were far over.
Then the memories came back. I remembered John holding my hand as I flashed in and out of consciousness. "John?" I said aloud, wondering if he was nearby. I hated to be alone, though I never admitted it.
"Sherlock!" his familiar voice exclaimed, and I smiled again. He ran to my side and I felt his fingers on my neck, checking my vital points.
"John, don't touch me," I murmured, weakly turning my head away to avoid his warm fingers. "I think skin to skin contact communicated the disease-" I broke off when I put two and two together. Damn it, I should have realized this earlier. A Sherlock not on morphine would have realized instantly. I rubbed my eyes and then opened them, which was difficult because tears had crusted my eyelids together while I slept.
John was leant over me, his hands folded together in front of him, face straight like a soldier's. A band of dark green wrapped around his neck. "I will find Moriarty," I seethed, trying to sit up. "And I will kill him."
"Sherlock, calm down," John said, pushing me back into bed. I relaxed only because John's hands were so insistent. His blue eyes had no trace of fear and there were circles around them. He had spent the night here. "You almost died last night."
"Someone else should have," I muttered. "Why should I calm down? Calm is boring. You know what else is boring? Hospitals. I want out."
"Not on my watch," John growled, and I stared at him. He worked his jaw.
"Speaking of… last night…" I began. "You- I mean, you held my hand. If I remember correctly."
John suddenly found scratching at his neck very interesting. "You were talking while unconscious. You- you asked if you were alone. So I wanted you to feel that you weren't alone."
I cleared my throat. "Well." Why did he hold my hand? Surely he could have just patted me on the shoulder. Or maybe that wouldn't incite as great a response. And talking in my sleep? That was embarrassing. Vulnerable. I was glad that the person that had overheard was only John.
"A normal person would say 'thank you,'" he sighed. "Then again, I've never heard a Holmes brother say those words."
"Thank you," I said immediately. "You spoke to Mycroft recently, didn't you?"
John bit his lower lip and wrinkled his forehead. I stared at the place where his teeth pressed against his lip for a second, categorized it. "He came this morning," John replied.
"And?" I asked.
"I don't want to talk about it." I seemed to have reached a boundary of John's, and I respected it.
"All right then."
"Are you okay?" he asked suddenly. I stared at him for a moment, at the bags under his eyes and the green ring around his own neck which signaled possible- no, inevitable- death.
"Take a look at the both of us," I said, closing my eyes against the burning sunlight. "Neither of us are okay."
"About Mycroft. He did say something useful."
"That's a change," I muttered. "Did he have an especially good morning? Blackmailed twice as many people?"
John chuckled. It made my spirits lift a little bit. Why was that? Why did making him laugh raise my spirits? I put the incident among many others in my Mind Palace to analyze later. "I wouldn't put it past him. Anyways, he said that Moriarty might have an antidote."
My eyes flew open. "He will," I said. "John, could you do me a favor and watch out for other nurses while I escape?"
This time John physically grabbed my wrists and pinned me to the bed. "I've already told you, no. Sherlock, you are going to stay right here until you get better. Doctor's orders." His breath was hot and right by my ear, which sent a shiver down my spine. Illogical. Hot air was supposed to raise the temperature of the skin, not cause goosebumps, which were a reaction to the cold. Nothing with John was logical. And so I obeyed.
"John, we have to do something," I said. He acquiesced by pressing his lips together and touching the green part of his neck. "So I would like you to do the research for me. Considering you're strong enough to walk. Get your phone and write this down." He got out his phone and looked up at me, waiting. "Research the watch brand Luca. I just remembered that there was a murder of a high-up businessman twenty four years ago in central London who wore the watch brand Luca, and then a murder of a laundress five years ago with the same brand. It's rather rare, which was why I took note of it. Find out where the company is located. The names of the founders." John took notes. "And then find out the name of the babysitter who took care of the kids when the father was away. It's quite obvious that the babysitter didn't do any babysitting, at least recently."
John finished typing and looked up from his phone. "Is it that obvious?"
"Yes," I said, and raised an eyebrow. He shook his head.
"I'll never understand what goes on in that head of yours," he said. For some reason I didn't like him saying that.
"Well, you don't have to. Now go on!" I said, sharper than I intended. John nodded.
"Yes, sir," he said and saluted, a twinkle in his eye.
"Take my scarf," I said, motioning to the pile of clothes sitting, rumpled, on the chair next to John's. He pulled it out and wrapped it around his neck. "And don't let anyone know you've acquired the disease, too. They may put the both of us in quarantine."
"I'll do my best to avoid it," he replied, and strode to the door with purpose in his step.
"Oh, and John?" He turned. "Be careful." The doctor was speechless for a moment. Then he swallowed and gave a curt nod, and was gone in the blink of an eye.
The sunlight shining brashly through the window lighting on the starched white bedsheets made me long to go outside. Made me long to take on the case myself. If John hadn't been available, I would've gone myself. But I knew the real reason had something to do with the manner in which John pinned my wrists to the bed, the concern in his eyes. Damn it.
My phone, which John had placed on the cart next to my bedside, began to ring. Unknown caller. I accepted the call and put it up to my ear.
"Hello?" I said.
A robotic voice that sounded like Siri answered. "Hello Sherlock. This is your good friend. You know who I am. How has the disease been treating you?"
"Give me the antidote, now," I growled, and then coughed as my throat restricted.
"I am proposing a deal. You come to 221B unarmed with John and I will give you the antidote. Otherwise, you will die in less than three days."
"How long do I have to decide?" I asked, defeated.
"Twenty-four hours." And then he, or the computer he was using, hung up. I lay back in my bed with my heartbeat hammering in my ears. I couldn't tell John. Not yet. He would force me to accept and go there right away. No. I would tell him when he came back.
I set my sights on the clock facing my bed and watched the second hand tick, a movement that was more important to me than it had ever been. Why did it move so quickly? I fell into an uneasy sleep, lulled by the ticking of the clock.
AN: Hehe, le the games begin! Reviews are as welcome as canon Johnlock moments.