John

He woke up to the familiar sounds of a hospital, and somehow that was calming.

He opened his eyes slowly, wincing at the brightness of the lights. Then he tried to push himself up into a sitting position.

"Here, easy mate." Lestrade appeared at his side, helping him to sit up. John nodded and as he did he noticed a familiar head of dark curly hair resting on the bed. It appeared that Sherlock had dragged a chair over to the bed and had fallen asleep in a bent position that could not be comfortable. It also appeared that he had handcuffed himself to the metal railing on the edge of the bed.

"Should I ask...?" John gestured towards the cuffs and Lestrade sighed deeply.

"They weren't going to let him see you. So he traumatized a few nurses and cuffed himself to the bed. With my cuffs by the way. The doctors asked me to help but that is so not my problem." He rubbed at his temples like the whole ordeal had been very stressful but soon both him and John were erupting into laughter.

"How are you feeling?" Lestrade asked, and John shook his head.

"I couldn't tell you."

"Yeah, well, I'm no doctor but as far as I can guess you had the shit beaten out of you. Not to mention they had to set your arm."

John glanced down at his left arm, surprised to just now be noticing that it was broken. Then again, his thoughts were still moving slowly, he could be in shock.

"Did you get him?" John asked.

"Well. Sherlock got him really, and by got him I mean he's a couple rooms down the hall." Lestrade replied.

"What?" John blinked and then looked back down at the slumbering detective. He noticed that Sherlock was dressed in a ratty old t-shirt and jeans as opposed to his usual formal wear. He also noticed the dark bruises forming along the top of his head.

"By the time I found Sherlock, I wasn't sure who to arrest." Lestrade shrugged. "I can't always look the other way for him you know, you have to keep him in check. That man was near death."

"Hard to keep someone in check when you're unconscious in another room." John replied coolly, and Lestrade made a dismissive gesture.

"Just from now on. You know what I mean. You have this way with him. Don't ever get yourself kidnapped again, he might set London on fire trying to find you." Lestrade stifled a yawn. "Anyway. I'm going to get some coffee. Want me to bring some back for you and sleeping beauty there?"

Just a few hours ago John was tied up and having strangers beat him up, he was on the verge of being sold for sex or labor. Now here he was drinking coffee with Greg like everything was normal.

"Yeah. Thanks."

Sherlock

Lestrade nodded and left the room, and as the door shut Sherlock began to stir. The detective made the soft noises one makes when awakened unexpectedly, then lifted his head with a yawn. John stared at Sherlock until he realized he was being watched, then the two just looked at each other for awhile.

"John." Sherlock rumbled.

"You need to give those handcuffs back you know." John replied quickly. Sherlock regarded the cuffs with a self satisfied smirk, and decided that since there was no danger of being dragged away it was safe to release himself. He pulled a key from his pocket and unlatched the cuffs, tossing them to the floor.

"So...you found me." John's voice cracked a little more than he would have liked.

"I will always find you." Sherlock promised.

"Did you get knocked around a bit?" John gestured to his own head, indicting the bruises on Sherlock's. Sherlock's hand flitted up to touch the tender bruises and then he shook his head.

"Nothing dangerous." He reassured.

"Well you should still go back to the flat and get some sleep." John said and Sherlock opened his mouth to protest but John just talked over him. "I don't need a nearly concussed and tired Sherlock snapping at every doctor that comes in to help me. Get some rest and then come back."

"I won't leave you." Sherlock growled fiercely. "I just got you back."

"Well you need sleep and it can't be comfortable bending over like that." John blushed, Sherlock's protectiveness was a new side of the detective that John liked very much.

Sherlock looked at his feet, considering the idea. Then he waved his hand with the traditional "the great Holmes has an idea" face.

"Simple. We share the bed."

"I know you're a skinny bastard but hospital beds are very small." John was falling back into the normal repartee that he and Sherlock shared. It felt good to just ignore that past and talk with his friend.

By this point Sherlock was clambering into the bed next to John, kicking off a pair of weather beaten sneakers to the floor below.

"By the way, those clothes..." John began, scooting over to the edge to accommodate the detective.

"Disguise. I had myself kidnapped."

"You got yourself kidnapped to rescue me?" John asked, impressed. Sherlock moved slowly to press himself to John's side.

"I am glad you are safe, John." He sighed, his eyes fluttering shut.

"That's thanks to you, I suppose." John chuckled, and unbidden his hands rose to stroke Sherlock's hair. Sherlock leaned into the hands and then grabbed one in his pale fingers and pulled it down to his lips. He pressed a chaste kiss into John's palm, his eyes still shut.

John blushed, that was certainly not a friendly gesture. Certainly something more, but he wasn't uncomfortable with it. He was starting to think that being with Sherlock is what made him most comfortable-what made him feel safe.

"Lestrade tells me you put my kidnapper in the hospital." John commented, his voice betraying no emotion. Sherlock opened his eyes, his face full of annoyance and anger.

"If anyone ever tries to come at me through you, I will do the same thing again." He growled.

"Alright, alright calm down. No one's after me just yet. Go back to falling asleep." John sighed. Sherlock was still holding his hand so he let his fingers intertwine with the detective's. "I bet you haven't slept in days. Still on a case high and worried for me."

"Well you were drugged and beaten and you're still awake." Sherlock pointed out, his voice layered with sadness.

"Do as I say, not as I do." John smirked. Sherlock turned and wrapped his arms around the doctor, laying his head on John's chest.

"No one is ever going to take you again." He muttered.

"I know." John yawned. Sherlock pushed himself up for a moment to brush a kiss against John's lips, neither one of them questioned it or thought about what it implied. It wasn't the moment to think about that. Right now both of them were just relieved the other was alive and mostly well.

Sherlock went back to his earlier position and John lay down against the pillows, and they both slowly fell asleep.