Chapter 13- The promise
Slowly and quietly, Sherlock walked up to where the other man sat. John wasn't looking at him directly. This wasn't a particularly good start.
'Can I sit next to you?' the detective begged softy.
John shrugged, and Sherlock more or less collapsed in an untidy but grateful heap, on the pavement. Anxiously, he stared at the top of John's bowed head. What should he say? He wanted to ask John where he had hidden his gun and if he had washed the gunpowder from his fingers. But perhaps this was one of those instances, when it would be best to let the other person speak first.
What did normal people say at a time like this, anyway? Thank you seemed a bit inadequate for what John had done for him.
'Can you ask your friends not to barge into my rooms anymore?' the doctor pleaded in a small voice as he stared down at his shoes, 'I won't make any trouble. Next time Lestrade can just telephone.'
Anew the detective felt like to throttle someone. At this point, anyone from the Yard would do.
Sherlock sucked in a harsh breath, 'They are not my friends! No one is going to do that again. I give you my word. No one will ever touch you without your permission.'
It was good that he was sitting, because the detective was completely flabbergasted when after a few moments, the small man threaded his arm through his and pressed his face into his sleeve.
Awkwardly, Sherlock patted his soft hair.
Under normal circumstances he knew Watson would never reach out for him like this, but the stress of the last couple of hours was beginning to exact a heavy price on the ex-army captain.
In turn, Sherlock slumped against the small man's sturdy shoulder.
John wasn't the only one who was exhausted. Adrenaline continued to course through Sherlock's body in sharp bursts like miniature electric shocks; sapping what little energy he had left. The case had been incredible but Sherlock was thankful that it was over. Now he could eat and sleep, and with John in view where he could him safe; Sherlock's eyes drifted close of their own accord.
Not if he searched through all of London, could he have found a better person to watch his back, and the detective silently resolved to repay the favor in kind; beginning now.
Sherlock looked around and gestured at a passing medic; nimbly catching the blanket that was tossed to him. Carefully, he then draped the bright red cloth lightly across John's back. It was indeed difficult not to break into a mad song and dance, as the small man accepted his touch without flinching.
HA!
Sherlock Holmes-1, the rest of the world-0!
'Dreadful business; all of this. How come you didn't wait for me?' John complained quietly in a conversationally tone, 'I was looking forward to running down some bad guys tomorrow.'
Sherlock glanced at his watch, 'technically, it is tomorrow.'
He grinned happily, as he felt John shake with silent laughter.
'Were you going to take that damned pill?' the doctor asked.
'Yes.'
John sighed, 'I'm glad you are alright, but you're an idiot.'