Sherlock, the sun, and GHB? (idon'teven-summaries are hard.)
Tee hee a little short one. I wanted to write a loopy Sherlock and this is what I came up with. Hope you guys like it!
In conjunction with the chapter 'Bang' in part five of the series.
Not That Again
Sherlock sits under the surprisingly accurate representation of a papier mache Saturn and frowns as the world tilts alarmingly on its axis.
"Hey? Sherlock?" Jane says, her warm hands framing his face and getting him to look at her. He tears his eyes from the gymnasium ceiling and tries to focus on her. (Double vision. Probably not good.)
"Hmm?" he responds, blinking through the haze.
"How are you feeling?"
"Where is Martinez?" he answers, looking around blearily.
Jane's face darkens and she looks over her shoulder at the dark and very unconscious lump of one Albert Martinez, the serial rapist targeting young women at the SouthwarkCharterSchool. "He's been taken care of."
At that moment, Lestrade and his men come barging into the gym ready to secure the area and neutralise the threat. Which was rather a moot point now, and Sherlock can't help but give Jane a cooked smile.
"Moot," he says precisely, emphasisng the t at the end of the word and decides he likes how it sounds, so he says it again. And again.
"Right," Jane says, concern fretting her brow, and feels for the pulse in his neck. Her hands are soft, and he tips his head back to the ceiling again to give her better access. The replica of Saturn spins lightly on its wire, the off-kilter rings wobbling and making him dizzy. He lists to the side, and Jane steadies him, firmly anchoring him to solid ground. "Woah, I've got you."
"Is he all right?" Lestrade asks jogging over to them, leaving Sergeant Donovan to handle the suspect.
"He was drugged. Some GHB cocktail," she says and hands him the syringe for evidence. "Martinez wasn't able to administer the full dose so there should be plenty in there to incriminate him. I think Sherlock will be okay, I just need to get him home."
"Did you need a ride?" Lestrade asks, and Sherlock's head snaps up to him. He tries to maintain his dignity through another wave of vertigo.
"No! Not in a police car," he says.
"All right, relax. I'll be by tomorrow to get both of your statements, so you better rest up Sherlock," he says and makes his way over to Martinez who is awake now and talking rapidly in Spanish. The clash of the unfamiliar language swirls in his head, his mind attempting to tear apart the well known phrases and stitch them back together with meaning. (He knows Spanish. He can speak it fluently, but right now nothing is making sense and it makes him nauseous.)
"Can you stand?" Jane asks him, and the cadence of her voice is like a balm to his battered eardrums.
"Give me a moment," he says and bows his head. "M'hot, Jane," he mumbles into his chest.
Gently, Jane cups his jaw and eases his head up again. He is able to make out the gold flecks in her irises just before she presses her lips to his forehead. She leaves her mouth there for a few moments, and draws back finally biting her lip.
"You have a bit of a fever," she says and checks the pulse in his wrist. "It's not bad though, probably around 38.2."
"How did you get that?" Sherlock asks peering into her face. The place where her lips touched his forehead tingles slightly making him feel warmer still.
"Old trick," she smiles. "Whenever I didn't have a thermometer, which was quite often, I would use my lips to gauge."
"Oh yes, of course. Lips have a high concentration of receptor cells making them extremely sensitive to heat or cold," he recites by rote.
"It's good to see you're not completely out of it," Jane says and helps lever him to his feet. His knees nearly buckle, but her arm is around his waist holding him upright. "I've got you."
"You said that already," Sherlock says, gripping onto her shoulders and he tries to get his legs to cooperate.
"Sorry if I'm repeating myself. I know you hate it," Jane grumbles and turns him to face her.
"No, no it's…it's not that, but you do, don't you ?" he says holding on to her upper arms.
"I do what, Sherlock?" she asks softly. Her fingers come up and carefully inspect the bruise blooming on his jaw.
"You have me," he says, and he can't keep the sudden giddy grin off of his face. He feels light all over, from the top of his head to the soles of his feet.
She looks at him just then with a sad smile, something akin to longing dancing in her eyes before she expertly shutters it away. He swallows hard, his own smile fading.
"You do, don't you?" he asks. "Because I have you. You're mine, Jane, you know this right?"
"Sherlock — you're not feeling well —"
"I feel fine," he says grasping her even tighter to prove his point. (Better than fine. She had to see that.) "I'm clear, Jane. So clear." He pulls her closer. She stiffens and looks around, but the officers at NSY aren't paying attention. He ducks his head, his lips hovering close to hers.
"Sherlock…" she whispers, her eyes fluttering closed. "You don't want to do this."
"I do," he insists. He breathes deep and the scent of her is enough to make him dizzy. In fact…
"Woah!" Jane says and grabs him around the waist again as he tips forward. Their foreheads bang together, and Sherlock can't stop the somewhat hysterical bubble of laughter from leaving his throat. "You are ridiculous," Jane says with mock exasperation.
"Yes, but you love me," Sherlock says swaying on his feet. He tips his head to the ceiling again and scowls. "What's that?" he asks indicating the large yellow ball at the center of the Solar System replica that had been mocking him.
"Wha — what?" Jane says looking entirely ill-footed. He doesn't understand why she's suddenly distressed but before he can deduce she says, "…the sun? That's the sun, Sherlock."
"No it isn't," he says looking back at the model. "It's can't be. It's in the wrong place."
Jane looks at him, and finally breaks out into a little giggle. Sherlock doesn't know what he said, but whatever it was he's glad for it. It's wrong if Jane's upset. She should be happy always. He tells her as much.
"All right," she says and helps him to the door. "It's time we get you home, you great pillock."