Clara blinked her eyes open. She was cold, even though she was in a bed with white blankets piled on top of her. Everything around her was white. She struggled to remember where she was. There was a beeping sound growing steadily faster. A heart monitor, Clara realized. Alright, I'm at a hospital.
The cold feeling seemed to be coming from her elbow. Clara shifted the blankets until she could see the I.V. attached to her arm. She followed the tubes up to the bag, which was filled with some kind of misty liquid. Her clothes were also gone, replaced by white hospital scrubs. It was more dignified than a gown, Clara noted with relief.
Clara racked her brain. Where was she? She could remember a pain in her side as she fell to the floor. There were two large, black eyes and pale green scales. All her energy was drained. There was blood. A knife was in her hands. There was Sherlock, carrying her. Then there was blackness.
A nurse entered her room, startling her. "Where am I?" Clara asked, her voice rising a pitch in panic.
"You are safe," the nurse replied. "A blue box brought you here. Do you remember what happened?"
The nurse stood beside Clara's bed. She pulled the blankets away from her arm. Clara could now see the clamp from the heart monitor on her finger. The nurse removed it, and the beeping stopped.
"Doctor!" she gasped. Suddenly, the memories came rushing back to her.
"He's here. He's safe," the nurse said soothingly as she took Clara's hand. "Everybody's safe, thanks to you, dear."
Clara squeezed the women's hand with relief. "Can I see him?" she asked.
"He's asleep now," the nurse answered. "But as soon as the antidote is completely in your system, I'll take you to him. This is your last dose."
Clara sighed and relaxed. She let go of the women's hand and pushed herself into a sitting position. She scanned the nurse quickly. Her eyes came to rest on her name tag. Kylie Breton, she was called. "How long was I out?"
"About two hours," Kylie replied. "You're very strong. You managed to keep conscious through the Raxacoricofallapatorian venom for long enough to get your friends here just in time. A minute longer, and either you or that Doctor fellow might have been dead."
"Are the others okay?" Clara asked, suddenly remembering John and Sherlock.
"Yes," Kylie answered. "Another nurse set John's arm when he came here, and they're working on repairing the bone right now. Sherlock, besides a little bit of shock, managed to escape the encounter unscathed. He won't leave John's side."
Clara grinned. "Thank you, Kylie."
Kylie returned the smile and set about removing her I.V.. The antidote had been emptied into her blood, and Clara could feel her strength returning. "I can't believe it's only been two hours. It feels like I've slept for days," she commented.
Kylie chuckled lightly. "The venom will do that to you," she replied. She ripped the tape off Clara's arm. It stung a little, but she hardly noticed. Her mind was racing through the earlier events as the nurse removed the tube and stuck a band-aid over her arm. "Would you like to see him now?"
Clara nodded eagerly. She pushed the blankets off and jumped to her feet. As soon as she was standing, her vision went blurry and her legs wobbled unsteadily. She grabbed onto Kylie's arm. The nurse gently steadied her. Clara blinked a few times and the room stopped spinning. "Easy there," Kylie said soothingly. "Try not to move so fast."
Clara nodded again in agreement. The nurse took her hand and led her out of her room and down the hall. "He was almost in cardiac arrest by the time you got here," Kylie explained. "We had to start his left heart, and by the time we got that beating on its own, his right heart had given out. He is very lucky he has two hearts. He might not have made it otherwise."
The tile was cold against Clara's bare feet. She suppressed a shiver. The nurse led her around the corner and to the end of the hall. They passed through a set of double doors into a much larger room.
The first thing Clara noticed was the steady, double heart beat coming from the monitor. The second thing she noticed was a defibrillator sitting on a table along the left wall. Finally, her eyes fell upon the form in the bed in the center of the room. It was unmistakably her Doctor. She approached him as quickly as her legs would allow. Kylie pulled a chair away the table and brought it to the bed.
Clara thanked Kylie as she nearly collapsed into the chair. The Doctor lay on his side, facing her. In sleep, his face was more relaxed than Clara could ever remember seeing him. He was also wearing the same white scrubs. Absentmindedly, she grabbed his hand. It was warm, she noticed with relief. Color had returned to his cheeks. She tried not to remember laying there next to him on the floor of that abandoned store. He had been so cold and pale; so close to death.
"You're a bloody idiot," she whispered. "But I'm glad you're okay."
"I'll give you two some privacy," Kylie announced softly before leaving the room.
Without really realizing what she was doing, Clara began to stroke his knuckles softly with her thumb. With her other hand, she brushed the Doctor's hair (damp with sweat) out of his face. Gently, she kissed his forehead, overcome with affection. "You're going to be alright," she whispered.
The Doctor's eyes twitched beneath their lids. He groaned slightly. Clara intertwined their fingers together. "You're okay," she said softly, hoping to soothe him.
"Clara?" he gasped. His eyes scrunched up even tighter.
"I'm here," Clara responded. She placed the back of her hand on his cheek. "I'll always be here."
Slowly, the Doctor opened his eyes. He squeezed her hand as he spoke. "Clara? Are you alright?"
She smiled and stroked his hair. "Yeah. I am."
The Doctor glanced around the room. "This is the Sisters of the Infinite Schism. Best hospital in the universe. But if we're here, that means you activated the emergency protocol." The Doctor looked into Clara's eyes. She could see the fear growing stronger with every second. "What happened?"
"As soon as I heard John yelling to shut the electricity off, I knew something was wrong. I grabbed a kitchen knife-" (the Doctor chuckled at that) "- and ran out to help. You had passed out, I'm assuming from the electric shock, and the alien, her name is Dadre by the way, looked like she was barely standing. I rushed over to you while John tried to attack her with vinegar, but she knocked the bottle away and grabbed him. Sherlock tried to go after her next but stopped when she threatened to break John's arm. Well, she broke his arm anyways, then tried to take him hostage. I snuck up behind her though and stabbed her, so she let John go. That's when she poisoned me and - ow! Doctor, my hand!"
The Doctor quickly loosened his grip. "Sorry," he apologized sheepishly. "Continue."
"So, Dadre ran off, and Sherlock managed to drag us all back into the TARDIS. I pressed the emergency button just before I blacked out."
The Doctor sat up quickly. "She got away?"
Clara gently pushed him back into the bed. "Yes, I'm sorry. She did. No, don't try to sit up. Your hearts were stopped. You need to rest now. We'll come up with a new plan when you're better."
The door opened, and Clara turned to see Kylie walk in. "Oh good, he's awake. Clara, Sherlock's asking to see you."
The Doctor released her hand. "Go. I'll be fine."
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX
Sherlock hadn't taken his eyes off John since they arrived.
Even when the TARDIS had landed and the nurses had rushed in, Sherlock couldn't focus on them. He had to make sure John was okay. Even when he was rushing to tell the nurses everything that had happened, his eyes were on John.
Thankfully, the nurses could tell that he wasn't about to leave John anytime soon. They let him follow them into an empty hospital room, even pulling up a chair for him to sit in. They didn't try to kick him out when they put John under and set his arm. For the most part, they just ignored him.
He flinched when a warm hand touched his shoulder, but he still did not look away. "Your friend will be alright in a few hours," she said. "We're going to inject him with a medication we developed which will make his bone cells regenerate faster and bind together."
Sherlock nodded. His eyes held an emptiness that unnerved the nurses around him, except for this one. Ebba was her name, Sherlock noted. She wrapped a white blanket around his shoulders. For shock, Sherlock thought to himself.
When the nurses were done, Ebba helped Sherlock pull his chair closer to John's bed. "He's going be okay," she told him. "He just needs to sleep while the medication works."
And with that, she left him alone. Hesitantly, Sherlock grabbed John's uninjured hand. His fingers found their way to the sleeping man's pulse. The strong thumping comforted him. John was alive. John was safe.
His face was relaxed. If Sherlock ignored the I.V., he could almost pretend that his friend wasn't hurt. His bloodstained jumper had been removed sometime before the nurses started the medication. He was now wearing perfectly clean, white scrubs.
Minutes passed by in silence. Occasionally, a nurse would check up on John to make sure he was healing alright, but Sherlock never acknowledged them. He never released John's hand, and he never looked away.
At about the two hour mark, a nurse named Kylie walked in. "How is he?" she asked.
"Alright," Sherlock replied. His voice was distant.
"Clara's awake now," she informed him.
Clara. That was right, she had been poisoned right after she stabbed Dadre. She saved John, Sherlock suddenly realized. Without her, that monster would have taken him. And she nearly died because of it.
"Can I see her?" Sherlock asked.
"Of course. Shall I fetch her?"
Sherlock nodded, still not looking up. He heard her leave, and the room fell back into silence.
It wasn't long before he heard different, slower footsteps entering. "Clara," Sherlock greeted. "Are you sure you should be up?"
"I'm fine," Clara replied. Her voice was soft but steady. "Are you alright?"
Sherlock finally tore his eyes away from John to observe Clara. She was still weak; it was a wonder the nurses were letting her walk around. Despite that, she was still concerned for him. "I'm not the one who was poisoned," he replied. "Or electrocuted. Or had my arm broken."
"No," Clara agreed, leaning on the doorway. "But you are the one who had to witness all those things and drag us back to the TARDIS."
Sherlock stood and crossed the room to Clara. He took the blanket from his shoulders and wrapped it around her. She accepted it gratefully. He took her arm and slowly led her over to the chair. Her legs shook, but she made it without falling.
Once she had settled, Sherlock sat on the edge of John's bed. She gently placed her hand on his knee. Sherlock was confused by the gesture. Did she want comfort? She was starting to go pale again. Comfort wasn't Sherlock's strong point, but he would try for Clara. He took her hand and let his thumb trace circles on her palm.
She gave his hand a tight squeeze, and Sherlock realized that she had been trying to comfort him. Oh. Sherlock scanned her in confusion. He had no idea why she wanted to help him when he was the only one who had escaped uninjured.
"You care about him pretty deeply," Clara said. Ah, so that was it. Sherlock nodded in agreement.
"I wanted to thank you," Sherlock said. "What you did back there, when you stabbed the alien. You saved him. Thank you." The words tumbled uncontrollably out of his mouth. This was another thing he wasn't great at.
Clara smiled and squeezed his hand again. "Your welcome," she replied.
"How's the Doctor?" Sherlock asked, changing the subject.
"He's awake. The nurses are with him now," she said.
"Oh, did I pull you away from him?" Sherlock asked awkwardly. "I'm sorry, you shouldn't have come-"
"Hey," Clara interrupted. "I wanted to come. And frankly, I'm glad I did. You need me more than he does."
Sherlock blushed slightly and looked down. "I don't need anyone. You can go back to him."
Clara snorted slightly. "You two are so much alike," she said. "I've been meaning to ask you something. Back at the victim's house, it looked like you and the Doctor were about to fight over how to deal with the alien. So why did you back down?"
Sherlock considered her question for a moment. "While the end result is the same, killing her ourselves would be like an act of war. Whatever war he fought in has left him scarred so much that he hates the idea of war, even to the point of hating himself for having once been apart of it."
Clara's eyes dropped to her lap. "Yes. You're right. I've seen it."
The two fell into a comfortable silence. Sherlock wasn't sure at what point he decided that he liked Clara, but it couldn't be helped now. The way she looked at him reminded him of John. She was affectionate and concerned for him. Sherlock nearly laughed out loud. That was two people who actually cared about his well being. Well, he supposed Lestrade and Ms. Hudson cared too, so that made four people who cared about him. Honestly, it was four more people than Sherlock ever expected.
Sherlock looked down at John. His eyelids were twitching. "John?" Sherlock asked. He took the injured man's hand again and checked his pulse. It was faster than earlier. "He's waking up," Sherlock told Clara.
"Great. I'll see if the Doctor is well enough to walk down here. We need to discuss a new plan as soon as possible."
