Lestrade remains in John's room for some time and eventually Sherlock gets up and goes in there as well. What he finds is a pitiable sight. John has managed to drag himself up into a sitting position with his uninjured leg pulled up tightly against his chest. He is half turned away from Lestrade with his arms wrapped around his bent knee clutching the photo Lestrade had showed him earlier in his right hand and with his head bent into the crook of his elbow. His breath is labored and wheezing and Sherlock can't tell if he's crying or not.
Lestrade stands with one hand on John's shoulder and the other rubbing careful circles on his back avoiding the wound. 'Breath John, breath.' He urges. He doesn't offer platitudes of 'everything will be alright' or 'you'll be fine' and for this Sherlock is greatly relieved, he hates lies unless he himself is the one telling them.
'I think he had a bit of a panic attack, he's better now.' Lestrade looks up at Sherlock who is staring wide eyed at them.
'Why didn't you call the staff, Christ they need to give him something' Sherlock snaps and begin to reach for the call button.
Lestrade, raises his hand from John's shoulder and holds it out to stop Sherlock. 'He doesn't need to be sedated, he needs his friend, he needs you Sherlock.' He argues and John's head slowly rises from his knee.
'Can… speak… for… mself' he gasps eyes still glassy but his face otherwise blank. Sherlock would have preferred tears.
'Get out of the way' he orders Lestrade an pushing the older man out of the way he slips onto the bed next to John pulling him into an awkward embrace. John freezes for a moment shaking his head slowly making the drain still in his shoulder twitch strangely and Sherlock doesn't know what he means. He reaches up a hand and brush it gently through John's hair pulling his head carefully toward him. 'You need a haircut.' He says for no other reason than because it's the truth and at that John's breath hitches and he buries his face in Sherlock's chest. There are no tears, just the soft trembling of John against him and the heavy wheezing of his breathing but he allows Sherlock to hold him and Lestrade looks unnaturally pleased.
'Take care of him. I'll be back but I have a case to solve.' He says and promptly leaves John doesn't look up as he exits and Sherlock acknowledge him merely with a look. Worried as he is about the two men in the room it is a relief to see them actually taking comfort in each other. They will need that in the weeks to come. Even if they catch this idiot tomorrow Lestrade know's there will be repercussions from this.
Sherlock holds John until his breaths grow less forced and he slumps against him clearly asleep. Then he lowers John to the bed and with his arms still wrapped around him lies down himself. He has sworn he won't fall asleep, that he will watch over John but within twenty minutes he is oblivious to the world.
When a nurse comes to check on how John is doing after the removal of the ventilator she finds them curled tightly on the bed. John has managed to twist around slightly and they are effectively spooning on the bed. The nurse picks up the blanket from Sherlock's bed and drapes it over Sherlock to keep him warm. It is a little unorthodox to have two patients sleeping in the same bed but they look so peaceful and she has learned as much as to know that if she wakes Sherlock to take him to his own bed he won't go back to sleep, so she leaves them there.
Sherlock is surprised and a little embarrassed when he wakes up to the early morning light to find he has slept all day and through the night. He is bursting for the toilet. He tries to disentangle himself from John without waking him but is surprised when John shifts to make it easier for him. 'Are you awake?' he asks and John nods slightly 'Yes.' I need the loo, I'll be right back.' He offers and John doesn't respond.
When Sherlock comes back John hasn't moved. He still lies slightly on his side with the photograph clutched tightly in his hand staring out of the window into the corridor.
Sherlock moves back onto the bed and at that John turns his head toward him awkwardly. 'You don't have to do that, I'm not going to panic again.' He says but Sherlock gives him a hesitant smile 'I want to, I can't sleep if I don't know you're safe.' He knows he sounds really pathetic but it is the truth and sleeping next to John had proved remarkably effective, if John was in distress he would almost certainly notice if he has his arms around him.
'I don't want to be safe, John mumbles. Not if it means this.' He waves the picture in the air and Sherlock has the urge to snatch the offending reminder away from him but he knows that would not be taken well. Instead he lies back down and wraps an arm around John who despite his protestations lets him, and eventually Sherlock falls back to sleep. John doesn't he lies staring into space because every time he closes his eyes all that he can see is little Johnny Howey in a bathtub with his wrists slit and despite what he said to Sherlock he knows that it will make him panic again.
They stay there for two more days before Mycroft turns up with the CCTV footage he had promised. Two days of John curled up in bed pretending to sleep. His lungs are improving and that same day they take the drain out and John is allowed a bit more movement. Not that he utilises it. He doesn't eat much even despite the lovely meals that keep arriving from Mycroft, along with notes urging them to be patient and he doesn't leave the bed until a doctor comes in to tell him that until he can safely manoeuvre around by himself he will not be allowed to leave.
That is why when Mycroft finally does turn up he finds the two shuffling along in the corridor with Sherlock's arm tightly wrapped around the smaller man who has an alarmingly ashen look on his face. He has spoken to the doctors, he knows that it isn't so much the physical injuries that are holding John back, they are healing well. It is the not eating and not sleeping that is a problem. They are more or less force feeding him antidepressants but they take time to work. Sherlock is doing well he is informed. Fully healed from his illness, he isn't eating much either but he sleeps like a baby every night curled around his flatmate in blissful oblivion of the fact that the other man is not doing the same. This pleases Mycroft but he knows it is not enough. Not considering the blurry images he has managed to come up with.
They settle down in their room to listen to Mycroft's report but even before he starts explaining they know that he has not caught the man. 'We have images of him but they're not clear enough. We caught him on the bridge but it is a bad shot and John is obscuring him, we also got a shot of him leaving the pub were John was first attacked but he has a baseball cap over most of his face. The fake nurse who came in here and hurt John's hand is a mystery, we have a very clear shot of her but no one seems to know who she is. We'll keep looking though. Your colleague of course we know who he is but not where, surely not in London any longer. The family were renting a furnished apartment so it would have been annoyingly easy to disappear. They haven't left the country though We've tracked down the patients you have filed reports against recently. Two of them admitted to being blackmailed but it was over the phone from a London payphone which is not covered by CCTV. This guy is really good but there's another route I'd like to try, I want you to do an E-fit for us John, get a picture out of what he looks like and circulate it among her acquaintances, bring t in to the prison, he said he visited her there.'
John nods he's not surprised at all that they have not been getting anywhere, that seems to be the general trend of his life recently. Sherlock however looks livid, like he wants to tear Mycroft limb from limb and that is quite possibly an accurate description of how he is feeling.
Next chapter I think I'll have them figure out who he is. Maybe not catch him straight away though, I have a very angsty ending planned.
