During the infusion, Sherlock's blood pressure kept creeping up. He didn't exhibit any other adverse reactions, so they simply slowed the drip and continued to monitor his vitals. It was good that John had come so well prepared as the infusion took the better part of the day. Even with the cold cases files, the detective had grown restless by the end of the infusion. He snapped at the nurse who removed the canula and wrapped his hand against bleeding.
"He means thank you," John told her with a glare for his friend. Boyfriend? Yeah, he liked that idea. Boyfriend. The doctor couldn't help it, he sniggered. That earned a suspicious look from Sherlock and a curious look from the nurse.
"What's so funny?" Sherlock asked suspiciously. "You're laughing at me."
"Of course I wasn't. You know I would never. I was thinking about how I want to take my brilliant, amazing, genius of a boyfriend home and show him the things I promised him I would." The doctor hadn't been, really, but he was now. Oh how he was. They could stop by a shop on the way home. He saw a flicker of unease cross the detective's face. "Unless you don't feel up to it, of course."
The nurse had long since blushed and fled the room.
As much as Sherlock was interested in what John had mentioned earlier, he truly didn't feel well. "I want to, I really do, but..." He pressed a hand over his chest. "I don't feel well, John. I feel all... not right."
"How long has this been going on?" John asked, concerned.
In answer, the detective looked down at his clasped hands.
"Well, fuck. You should have said something." John snatched up the clipboard that the nurse had left behind. Sherlock's blood pressure was running consistently around 165/116. He frowned and went after the nurse. "Janet, about Sherlock's blood pressure readings... They're rather high."
"They're fine, Doctor Watson, I assure you. The first two infusions usually result in elevated blood pressure. It should return to normal within the next few hours. It won't go as high on subsequent infusions as his body adjusts." Janet placed a hand on John's arm in reassurance. "Just keep him calm and quiet. Try to get him to rest and lay on his left side until his blood pressure normalises. That's about all you can do."
The doctor didn't like that answer, but it was all he had to work with. "Thanks. I'll do my best. Of course you know how easy that's likely to be with him," John said wryly.
"I know, Doctor Watson. Good Luck."
"Lay back down on the sofa, babe," John ordered his very bored flatmate. It was about the ninth time he had said it.
"But, John..." Sherlock started to complain.
The doctor cut him off. "But me no buts. I can tell you still feel like crap and I know your blood pressure hasn't fallen in the last five minutes since I checked it." John stood hovering over his patient with his hands on his hips. "If you behave, I'll find us a movie and you can deduce all the characters. You can even deduce the ending, but you have to stay on your left side."
"Boring." Sherlock lay back down on the sofa. "Come sit with me, at least. I want to rest my head in your lap. That is, if you really want to be my boyfriend."
The doctor rolled his eyes. "You can't use that to blackmail me forever, git." John eased himself to the sofa and let the detective rest his curls in his lap. "Other than the blood pressure, how do you feel, babe?" he asked, concerned.
"My back hurts," the detective said with a pout. No matter how he lay, he couldn't get comfortable.
John turned on the telly and found something for them to watch, well, something for him to watch and for the detective to deduce. When he set the remote down, he eased his hand along the long line of Sherlock's back, massaging it. "Is that the spot?"
"Lower. Just at the very base," Sherlock told him. When the doctor found the spot, Sherlock let out a purr of contentment. "That helps. Thank you, John." He closed his eyes at the relief he felt as the muscles in his lower back relaxed. "The recliner they had me sitting in was rubbish. It should be used as a torture device."
"Mm, better than sitting in a straight chair I would imagine," the doctor observed. "Now get on with deducing this movie for me. Let's see how good you are." He propped his feet up on the coffee table.
"It's not fair when it's science fiction, John. There are no rules," the detective said, pouting, as laser beams criss crossed the screen.
John disagreed. "There are rules. You just have to learn them." He bent forward and dropped a kiss to Sherlock temple which took the detective's breath away.
The doctor kept surprising him that way. Perhaps John really did love him after all. Perhaps he should really let him.