Once they get back to the flat, Sherlock wakes his doctor up and he gets him inside, leading him carefully to the bedroom he's been using. "I'll get tea." he decides, exiting quickly into the main room where he hesitates and looks around. A brief, faint smile crosses his face as he moves over and collects the tea kit that he gave John for Christmas, opening it and using it to brew a bit of the samples of tea that he also gave him, putting them and two mugs on a tray with the fixings and then gets some of the pie that John had purchased. Once everything is loaded onto the tray, the detective carefully carries it back into the bedroom, setting it down on the end table.
Having been left to his own devices in the room he's been using, John changes into pajama pants and a sleeping shirt before he climbs carefully into the bed, sitting there propped up by some pillows when the younger man comes in, and he chuckles a little when he sees what the detective has done. "Good idea, might as well test out my tea set before I have to pack it back up again." He says with a little smile. "And pie to get my blood sugar back up. Very good thinking, Sherlock."
And while he doesn't exactly preen under the praise, and the praise itself may not be 100% genuine, Sherlock is secretly happy for it. "I do have some knowledge of medicine and first aid." He points out dryly as he makes John a cup of tea and then hands him both the cup and a slice of pie as well. And since John is taking up the bed, Sherlock sits on the floor beside the bed, tilting his head back against the mattress as he sips his own tea and takes a bite of a slice of pie he got for himself.
"Presumably you will have to report this injury to your commanding officers. Will it prevent you from returning on schedule?" Sherlock asks, tilting his head back a little to look at John.
Taking a drink of his tea, the doctor makes a sound of approval at the one that was chosen though he doesn't feel like asking which one it is, for now. Instead, he looks down at the curly mop of hair which is mostly what is visible, and he smiles a little. "Yes, I'll have to report it, and given how minor the wound is, it won't prevent me from returning to my duties. Considering I'm a doctor, it makes the decision easier." He says with a small shrug as he eats his pie, not minding this so much despite the dull ache in his side and his head being fuzzy from whatever they gave him at the hospital. "I'll call the base tomorrow and make sure that they're informed and my medical records are forwarded." He says before he leans his head back a bit. Food is finished and the plate is set to the side, finally sipping the last of his tea.
Sherlock nods absently as he stares at the wall blankly for a few moments. "I see." he hesitates before he continues, "I am sorry you got hurt. However, it is ironic that you survived this long overseas without being injured and a week here, you're injured by a gunshot no less." A small, slightly humorless chuckle comes from the young man before he puts his dishes aside as well, having finished his tea shortly after finishing the pie.
A small smile crosses John's face and he nods quietly, putting his mug aside and then laying down more on the bed, pulling the covers around him before he reaches out, hesitating before giving in to his urge and he lightly runs his hand through Sherlock's curls. He has no idea where that desire came from, or when or why it happened, but he knows it's there, and he's just loopy enough to give in to it.
It gets John a curious look from the detective, who turns his head just slightly - not enough to dislodge the hand in his hair though - in order to regard the doctor with his cutting blue-green eyes, trying to figure out the purpose. But seeing the look on John's face - slightly dazed, definitely sleepy, and slightly amused - the younger man decides not to object to it. Mostly because it feels kind of nice. So he just leans back a little more against the bed. "Merry Christmas, John." He finally says in a soft tone, closing his eyes a little. Afterall, he's had a long, stressful day as well, and eaten way more than he usually does. So his own mind is slowing down and urging him to sleep.
Not feeling the need to question the silence he gets from the detective, John takes it as encouragement, and gently runs his hand a few more times through Sherlock's hair, admiring the soft brunette locks that curl a little around his fingers. With a faint smile, he finally stops though as he drifts toward unconsciousness. "Merry Christmas, Sherlock.. thank you." He mumbles sleepily right before he drifts off.
After an indeterminate amount of time, in which Sherlock is sitting there with his eyes closed listening to John's breathing even out, the detective finally opens his eyes, looking around before he finally gets to his feet, retrieving the tray and making sure to put everything away before he goes and lays down on the couch on his back, steepling his fingers in a 'prayer' type positioning. He needs to find out why he felt so panicked - that was the only word for it - before when he found out John was hurt, and why he let the doctor take such liberties. And the only way he knows how to do that is to delve into his Mind Palace and see what's going on in there.
Sorry for the delay - again. It was partially because I started writing a story with my friend Petrichor1110, which we've started posting, called When Everything Changed, if anyone wants to check it out.
Anyway, I've had this sweet little scene in mind for a while. I just thought it was cute, and one step closer to a bit more of the Johnlock more than one of you is craving. Don't worry, something is coming that will shake them up! :D As always, I hope you enjoy it!
Comments/Reviews welcome!