Why did it have to be her? Couldn't some other faceless lackey on Lestrade's team play delivery service? She'd been looking forward to heading straight home and enjoying a bath after a particularly stressful day but instead she got tossed a canister and told to take it to the Freak's place of residence.
She hadn't really looked at what it was until she arrived, morphine. How stupid can Lestrade be? Even she knew of the man's past with drugs and morphine had been a favourite of his along with cocaine.
But Lestrade had made her swear she'd give it to him, it was of the utmost importance apparently. Oh well, she didn't care if that unfeeling monster OD'd.
An elderly woman opened the door for her and told her to head up the stairs, she looked very worried about something. Sally didn't ask, it wasn't her business. She headed upstairs and entered their living room but nobody was there, great she'd come all this way for nothing.
Then somebody yelled above her, wasn't there a bedroom up there? Another yell, though this time it was more of a scream. Quickly she ran up the stairs, fully prepared to fight off some attacker but what she saw made her stop in her tracks.
John was positively writhing on the bed, arching his back, moaning and yelling in agony. Sherlock was sitting next to him, holding him down to stop his flailing limbs from hitting anything.
"Stop! Stop it…oh God I-I can't…" John rambled.
"I know." Sherlock hushed, "I know I'm sorry."
"It hurts-argh!" John's back arched and he attempted to squirm away from Sherlock's touch but was evidently to weak, "I can't breathe! Sher-Sherlock! Make it stop…please."
"I know, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
Sally was so taken aback she didn't speak, the detective, who was usually so observant, missed her presence entirely. It was only when the door finally came to rest against the wall with a thump that the detective's eyes found her, or most specifically, the canister she was holding.
"What are you standing there for?" He yelled angrily, "Give me the canister!"
Without thinking she walked over and handing it to him. Without even thinking about it the man let go of the flailing doctor and unscrewed the lid before carefully propping the doctor up.
"Here John, drink." He offered, John turned away deliriously.
"Come on," Sherlock urged, "It will make you feel better. Please John."
Finally, Sherlock poured a generous amount of the drug into John's mouth, making him cough and splutter slightly. After a few tense seconds of heavy breathing the doctor's eyes slipped closed and he went limp in Sherlock's arms.
"Is there any reason you are still inflicting your presence upon me?" Sherlock asked bitterly as he lowered John back onto his pillows. The doctor was now out cold; the pain had been the only thing keeping him awake.
"Holmes, he's seriously ill!"
"Yes, I noticed." He bit back.
"He should be in hospital." Sally insisted.
"A hospital will do nothing to help him." Sherlock argued.
"Look I know you think you are God-On-Earth but he needs a proper doctor!" Sally argued, while she didn't particularly like John he was a good man. It was his crazy brother whom she hated.
"Doctors can't do anything!" Sherlock bellowed, "Can't you use your ears!"
John groaned in his sleep and Sherlock promptly shut up and sat back down on the bed. Slowly he pushed John's fringe from where it had plastered itself against his face, stuck down by sweat. The movement could only be described as tender.
"What's wrong with him?" She asked quietly, Sherlock tensed.
"Genetic disorder." He said finally, "Hereditary, it crops up every few generations in a single family member. John got it."
"Isn't there something a doctor could-"
"No cure." Sherlock cut in. "Now please. Leave."
-oOo-
John had maybe 24 hours left at most, Sherlock sighed. He carried up a small bowl of the chicken noodle soup he was so fond of for John.
"John." He called gently, "John wake up."
"Mmmph…"
"That's it." Sherlock carefully helped lean him up in a sitting position against the headboard.
"Here, try and eat something." Sherlock floated a small ball of soup towards John's mouth and dropped it in.
John managed three mouthfuls before he turned away.
"No luck?" John croaked. Sherlock shook his head.
"I'm sorry." He choked.
"S'all right." John muttered looking at Sherlock through hazy eyes, "I'm not angry with you, it's not your fault."
"I have to take you to Adler." Sherlock whispered, "I can't let you die, knowing there is something I could do."
"I'd rather die than be stuck serving her for the rest of my life." John replied with as much energy as he could, "We're equals, she'll make me a servant."
"But you'd be alive." Sherlock replied, "I will not watch you die!"
"Close you eyes…" John muttered, following his own advice.
"John?" Sherlock felt a small amount of panic beginning to bubble up, "No. Wait, don't you dare go yet!"
"Shr'lock…"
"I don't care what you say, I'm making the deal with Adler." Sherlock bit his lip, "Once you're healthy again you can get away from her. Come back here."
John nodded weakly.
"Pr'mise" He muttered.
"I will come an get you as soon as I can," Sherlock pressed his forehead to Johns, "If you can't get away on your own. I promise."
-oOo-
Getting John into a cab had been no easy feat, he managed to convince the driver that he was drugged and had to get to their house to get the cure. Like an idiot the cabbie believed him, Sherlock had never been so thankful that most people were idiots.
He didn't bother to knock, instead he half carried half dragged John to the lounge and laid him down against it. He wasn't responding anymore, but he was still breathing, just.
"Adler!" he bellowed, "Adler!"
"No need to shout darling." She replied, appearing in the doorway
"Now, cure him. I'll make your deal!" Sherlock replied quickly, "But hurry!"
"Excellent!" She beamed, facing lighting up like a child on Christmas morning.
Sherlock took a step back, thankfully she let him stay as she made her way over to John.
"I should explain how I'm going to do this, as you wont be able to watch." She drawled, "Can't have to stealing him away."
"It's simple enough, those nanobots have a battery life of roughly 35 years, so I'm going to recharge them."
As she explained her fingers crackled and red lightning formed between them. Oh why didn't he think of that? A recharge using his own lighting!
The obvious thing was, this was going to hurt John, Sherlock would dismiss anything that hurt John.
"Well, off you pop." She waved, "Bye-Bye Sherlock!"
Sherlock gritted his teeth, she wasn't going to complete the recharge until he left and the sooner he left, the sooner he'd be shut out of John's life forever. But on the other hand, John needed help now before he was lost.
Ignoring every part of his body, which was screaming at him not to leave, he slowly made his way to the door. It slammed shut behind him, he could hear the crackle of electricity from beyond the door, he'd almost made his way out the front door when the screaming started.
I hate to tell you guys this but I'm off to Japan for two weeks on Friday! Which means no updates for two weeks. As much as I love writing I'm not going to spend my holiday writing fanfiction :P I will try and update before Friday but otherwise I'm afraid you will have to wait.