"I've called a doctor, Sherlock, we're going to get you some medicine. Try and hang on, they'll be here soon." John's words started off professional but the longer he had to wait for a doctor to arrive, the more and more personal things started to get. "I know you can do it, oh God, I'm so happy you're awake. I was really worried and I don't know what I'd do if-"
A doctor appeared on hearing the call button and quickly rushed forward to help questioning John as to what was going on.
John cleared his throat and turned to the doctor. "He's regaining consciousness, what steps were you thinking of taking next? Obviously, he needs better pain management to begin with."
"I'll set him off on some painkillers and take some tests to see if there is anything else we can do." The doctor replied just as Sherlock whimpered gripping even tighter to John's hand trying to be brave for John and bare through the mind-numbing pain. The doctor set to work quickly adjusting the medication.
"Just up the dose of the immediate release ones, the last thing we want is him getting drowsy again," John says, even though he's sure the doctor is perfectly competent and knows all this already. "Can we get some gas and air to give him as well?"
The doctor nodded, "Yeah I've already done that and I'll go get some gas and air now..." He rushed away. Sherlock was still squeezing John's hand but he lessened the grip slightly as he was comforted by the sound of John's voice, his doctor voice, professional and taking care of him.
Sherlock knew he was in the best hands possible, he wanted to thank him, say anything but when he opened his mouth he couldn't speak. He tried again and failed. Clenching his teeth together he opened his eyes, light bursting before him, searching, searching his blurred vision till he caught a glimpse of John. He hoped, yet again, his eyes could convey everything... The doctor returned, quickly administering the gas and air.
"That's it, just squeeze my hand. The painkillers will start working soon, really soon, okay? Keep sucking on the gas and air too. It might make you feel a little bit drunk but it really works, just take nice deep breaths." John smiled faintly back at Sherlock, hoping that he was being somewhat reassuring and that the pain would lessen soon.
Sherlock did as John said and slowly the pain lessened as he gradually became more and more light-headed. John made everything feel better like it was going to be all fine again soon. He wanted to sob knowing this wasn't true, that the moment it was all fine; nothing would be fine for a long, long time. Sherlock let out a hysterical giggle quickly muffled as he tried not to sob.
Something inside of John relaxed as Sherlock's pain visibly improved. He let out a long breath. "Thank you," he said quietly. "Again." He watched the effects of the gas and air on Sherlock, putting the giggles and the cries down to normal side effects, leaving the detective to it. As long as the pain was bearable, John didn't want to question anything.
The doctor handed the gas and air over to John and began running tests and checking the machines, Sherlock still had very low blood pressure... too low. "Low blood pressure due to lack of blood...Any suggestions? We can't really give him another transfusion."
John held the mouthpiece for the gas and air by Sherlock's lips so he could sip some more whenever he felt the need to. He was frowning at the blood pressure before the doctor even said anything and had opened his mouth to answer the question before it had even been asked. "A stronger saline solution might help thicken the blood," he suggests. "At the very least it should stabilise him for a few more hours and if there's no difference we can try IV plasma."
The doctor went though with John's suggestions and stood back feeling awkwardly like there was nothing else he could do but wasn't sure if he should leave or not yet. Sherlock was shaking his brain felt sluggish and ached dreadfully, the light-headedness was making him feel faint but he kept his grasp on reality by staring at John, not cataloguing, not thinking, not observing, just simply looking.
John pulled an extra blanket up over Sherlock, smoothing it out and tucking it in. "Is there anything you want?" he asked quietly. Not wanting to turn away from Sherlock for too long, he briefly glanced back at the doctor. "I'm going to stay here from now on. Don't argue, it's clearly better for everybody. If you get me something comfier than this chair to rest on, I'd be grateful."
"I... uh... It's not up to me to decide if you can stay indefinitely... But you can stay for the rest of the day at least, what do you suggest? I could possibly get a gurney, that might be more comfortable for you if you could lay down?"
John relaxed at the suggestion. "That would be much better, thank you." His attention was immediately back on Sherlock once he had the doctor's agreement to stay, at least for the time being. "Do you promise not to do anything stupid again if I stay here? No getting up and going for walks again?"
The doctor left to find a spare gurney from somewhere in the hospital. Sherlock was still staring at John, still couldn't make himself speak. His mouth was dry from seeing John this worried about him so he nodded into the promise instead and instantly regretted it as his head spun wildly and his vision blurred again.
Relieved that there was no immediate danger, even if things in the long-term looked a little worrying still, John picked up where he'd left off yesterday with his stories. He told Sherlock all about his failed dates and his weekend in Wales and that one time Lestrade came to him for help with a case. It was all boring stuff and it was making his voice hoarse, but he needed to keep talking to give Sherlock something to focus on.
Sherlock focused on the sound of John's voice letting it ring through him telling him John was okay, John was getting better... He caught snippets of the conversation but he doubted his mind would hold the information in this state. He tried to speak but could only make a croaking noise then smiled apologetically at John... His mouth was still too dry and his brain didn't have full control in its muddled state. He closed his eyes again letting the heat from John's hand and the sound of John's voice become his reality.