Post Blue

It's in the water baby,
It's in the pills that pick you up,
It's in the water baby,
It's in the special way we fuck,
It's in the water baby,
It's in your family tree,
It's in the water baby,
It's between you and me

'Looks like you're all cleared to come back with me Sherlock!' Rolling his head towards the overly loud and cheerful voice Sherlock rolled his eyes at Susie, the perky blonde nurse was standing behind a waiting wheelchair with a bright smile and too much ruby red lipstick. 'If you want to hop on in this chair we can get going, I know John would like to see you!' Sighing Sherlock swung his aching legs over the side of the hospital bed and let his bare feet touch down on the cold linoleum, a small shiver trailing goose-bumps up his flesh.

Over an hour ago the doctors had come in to speak to him, they didn't think he would have anymore seizures and his latest CT scan had come back clean; his body would ache for a few more days to come as an after-effect of the seizures but he would be fine as long as he stayed away from anymore drugs and had his blood sugars regularly monitored on the ward to avoid another crash. They had rambled on about his body mass index and low weight but he had shut them out by then and just stared at the ceiling. He didn't care.

Settling in to the wheelchair with a resigned sigh he placed his feet on the waiting pedestals and felt his empty stomach lurch at the motion as Susie wheeled him from the room, keeping up a stream of meaningless chatter behind him.

By the time they exited the elevators and were buzzed through the locked double doors to the psychiatric ward Sherlock hadn't taken in one word Susie had babbled to him and was grateful when she dropped him off in his room with strict instructions of bed rest for the next twenty-four hours. He settled beneath the covers to appease her and make her leave, but threw them back as soon as she was out the door.

The room was empty, Sherlock didn't know if he was relieved or a little upset that John wasn't there which just made him confused. He had only known John for a week now, but the older boy made him happy- which was rare in itself as Sherlock was used to receiving negative feedback from people his age or more commonly violence for being smarter and not knowing when to keep his mouth shut. John wasn't like that though, he smiled at Sherlock and called him amazing and seemed to want to spend time with him and not sharing the room despite his eccentricities.

When Susie came back in to take his blood pressure and sugar levels Sherlock was deep in thought, when her warm hands touched his spindly arm he jumped in surprise. 'Sorry about that hun, just need to take your blood pressure.' She wrapped the cuff around and his upper arm and smiled down at him. 'How is your head feeling, you're only written up for Paracetamol, do you need any?' He shook his head; it wasn't hurting him at the moment, just itchy. The cuff released with a hiss and he looked at the monitor in surprise at how low his blood pressure was. 'You need to eat something Sherlock, and have a decent drink of water or you are going to end up back on the ward again.' Susie tutted at him, removing the cuff.

'Just need to check your sugar levels now okay?' Sherlock held out a slender finger and flinched at the quick prick but otherwise stayed silent. After a few seconds silence and a quick beep she hummed in approval. 'If I get you a jug of water will you drink it?' He nodded, didn't matter whether he would or not. 'Good boy, now get some rest okay?' She left the room quickly, and he was alone again. The silence was almost insufferable. He wondered absently where John was.

Jolting awake Sherlock blinked his eyes open in surprise; John was standing in the entrance of their bedroom looking like a shocked deer with wide eyes, mouth open in apology as Sherlock rubbed the sleep out of his eyes with a wide yawn and flinch as the stitches pulled. 'Sorry I didn't realise you were back yet, would've come in a bit quieter otherwise. Didn't mean to wake you up.' John grimaced as he moved away from the door he had just slammed shut behind him.

'It's okay John, you weren't to know.' Sherlock assured, sitting up a little straighter and massaging the crick in his neck from sleeping sitting up against the wall. 'I am sorry if I caused you any alarm yesterday.'

'Just a bit of a scare, better now that you're back though. Was creepy quiet in this room on my own.' John laughed and sat on the end of Sherlock's bed. 'How are you feeling?' John's eyes lingered on the stitches.

Smiling softly, Sherlock nodded. 'I am fine, the doctors cleared me this morning.'

'Cool, good to have you back.' They sat quietly, sharing each other's company before John spoke again. 'Uh Sherlock, you can say no if you want to but I was wondering if I could ask you a question?' John's voice was clogged, hesitant like he didn't know whether he should be speaking them. It piqued Sherlock's interest.

'Of course John.' He smiled. John if possible became even more tense as Sherlock looked at him expectantly, his eyes were tight and unsure which put Sherlock himself on edge in anticipation of the question if it was causing John so much concern. 'Really John, please do continue.' Sherlock offered kindly, hoping to alleviate the tension.

'Are-are we friends?' John sputtered, cheeks flushing a vibrant red as he averted his eyes from Sherlock's and clenched his hands in his lap. Sherlock laughed. Which he realised immediately may not have been the right response when John's face fell almost comically. He stopped himself from laughing, and smiled.

Shaking his head Sherlock answered; 'of course we are John, trust me- if we weren't I would have made the last week unbearable for you in this room until you asked to be transferred to another one. I do not make myself suffer for the sake of anyone else's emotions. Plus I see no reason to have led you on in to believe our friendship was a ruse.' John looked up hopefully, a shy smile playing with the corners of his lips that crinkled with the emotion. 'I also find I quiet like you myself, it is not often I come across someone my age I can bare to be around this long-.' Sherlock snorted. 'At least not without being eventually being punched in the face.' This time John laughed, it was a bright sound that lit up the dull room and Sherlock found himself laughing along with him.

'On the topic of questions…' John shifted in his spot on the end of the bed, playing with the generic grey bed spread, a nervous tick Sherlock often did when he was bored. John looked up at him and he nodded in response. 'What's a rent boy?'

An icy plunge seemed to go through Sherlock and he groaned in distaste, throwing his head back in annoyance. Of course his brother had been telling the truth, it hadn't just been a ruse to try and draw more information from him. He was embarrassed to know he had brought something like that up in front of John, and a little nauseated that despite the fact they had just declared themselves to be friends John was going to walk away from him in disgust. 'John…' He murmured, trailing off.

Bringing his head back up he sighed reluctantly. 'If I tell you John, you won't want anything to do with me anymore and you wouldn't be the first person to respond that way.' Sherlock scowled and kept his eyes averted from John's surprised blue ones. His head shot up quickly when John chuckled.

'Sherlock… I've spent the past week in this room with you. Listened to you snore, laughed with you discussed so many bizarre things I couldn't possibly begin to understand. You're strange and intriguing and there's this odd thing about friendships you know, where you share and learn things about each other. I want to know about you Sherlock, please?' John sounded so sincere Sherlock almost wished it were true. He drew in a deep breath and nodded.

'Before all of this I lived on the streets, or in a drug den if you prefer. I left home with a large amount of money that I had been saving for when I left, but I burned through it quickly paying for the drugs- I preferred high quality to the usual street deal- an older man managed the den controlled who came in and out to make sure it stayed safe, we were all younger so for a price he kept us mostly safe. One day when I couldn't pay up he offered me work, said I could make a lot of money for being so pretty. I was desperate, sixteen years old and completely reliant on Heroin, Cocaine and Morphine and had no intention of stopping so I accepted the job not knowing what I was walking in to it.

'Of course when he dropped me off on the streets after cleaning me up and gave me a going rate I realised what I had gotten myself in to. I worked as a prostitute John, young men on the streets are known as rent boys. I had sex with men in their cars or hotel rooms for money so I could pay for a place to sleep and my habit.'

The room was quiet as both boys absorbed the information, Sherlock was waiting for John to jump off the bed in disgust, hit him or swear at him; anything but the suffocating silence that was currently swallowing them. It dragged on for a few moments before John drew in and blew out a deep breath. 'I can deal with that.'

Sherlock's head snapped up so quickly in shock it felt like whiplash. 'What?' He stuttered, heart racing in shock.

'I said I can deal with that, I don't see why I couldn't. You used to be a prostitute, you did what was necessary at the time to stay alive, not going to hold something like that against you.' John smirked and shook his head, Sherlock just stared in disbelief mouth still hanging open. Who on earth was this boy?

'Thank you John, that means a lot to me.' Sherlock said empathetically. John smiled back jumping up off the bed and moving to his side of the room and rummaging through something Sherlock couldn't see behind the bed.

'I was just with my dad, he stopped by before work and dropped some more things off including a portable DVD player and some Dr Who disks, and since I'm assuming you're on bed rest I figure we could watch some together to pass the time. Scoot over.' John nudged Sherlock's shoulder and he shuffled over on the bed to make room for John to lean against the headboard with him and they settled down, shoulder to shoulder.

'What on earth is Doctor Who?' Sherlock asked, plucking the case rudely from John's hands to look at the cover and snorting. 'It looks like rubbish.' He proclaimed, making John laugh loudly as pressed play and they fell in to a companionable silence.

By the time Susie poked her head back in the room she smiled, Sherlock's head was resting on John's shoulder as he slept and the older teen watched the small screen groggily looking up at her briefly to smile softly.