After emerging from his Mind Palace, Sherlock raised himself from the couch, glancing at the time and frowning a little. It had been a few hours, he was supposed to be making sure John was alright and awake every few hours. Since that was what he promised, the detective walks into the room he now thinks of as John's, looking down at the doctor who is sleeping peacefully, slowly lowering himself to sit on the edge of the bed. His mind's projection of this small army man and what he said still has him a little unsettled. But as he reaches out to wake John up, the detective hesitates, and instead reaches out to brush some hair back from his doctor's forehead.
The touch and movement causes John to stir a little, shifting his head toward the warm fingers that brushed against his skin, not consciously knowing who it is that is touching him, but that doesn't mean he can't enjoy it. Sherlock lets the contact linger for a moment before lowering his hand and giving the doctor a little shake. "John. Wake up." he nearly demands but in a softer tone, struck by the unusual affection he has for him.
With a start, John wakes up, half-sitting up by propping himself on his elbows, before he finally realizes where he is and who is sitting on the edge of the bed. "Huh? Sherlock? What is it?" he asks in concern as he looks up at the other man whose skin seems to glow in the dim light of his room.
"The doctor said you needed to be woken every few hours to make sure you were alright. The concussion, remember?" Sherlock says as he looks at John, though his words hold his usual uninterested, slightly disdainful tone.
"Oh.. right.. thank you, Sherlock.." John says groggily, sitting up a little and yawning as he leans back against the wall. "I have a small flashlight in my bag.. make sure my pupil dilation is normal.. I know, you're not a doctor but I can't do it myself, and I assume you know a little something about it since you're able to deduce things so accurately. Which means you must know how to read signals people put out, even unconsciously." The doctor says as he stifles another yawn, putting a hand over his mouth as he watches Sherlock.
Glancing over at the bag, Sherlock digs through it for a moment - fascinated since this gives him even more insights into his friend - before he finds the flashlight and returns to the bed, turning it on and flashing it into John's eyes to do as he was bid - for once in his life - and check the older man's eyes. "They appear to be dilating normally." he says simply, leaving the flashlight on the nightstand
"Good. Good, that means that I should be alright." John says with a small nod of his head, reaching out and patting Sherlock's leg groggily. "Thank you for helping me, so that I didn't have to stay in that hospital. I was a bit worried that you might forget, to be honest."
There are no reassurances or promises that he would never forget from Sherlock, since it wouldn't be the truth and he's not going to lie. Not to John at least. "I've been well informed that friends are supposed to help eachother." Sherlock says in his normal dry tones instead. "You should go back to sleep if you can." He decides before he stands slowly from his perch on the edge of the bed.
Before he can get too far though, John grabs the younger man's wrist and holds onto it gently as he looks up at him. "Yes, friends do help eachother. You should get some rest too, Sherlock. At least for a few hours, though I may be alright for the rest of the night." He says with a thoughtful tone to his voice, his eyes focused on Sherlock's own changeable blue-green ones, while the hand on his wrist cradles it a little more and he can't help but let his thumb brush across the thin, soft skin and feel the somewhat prominent bones of his wrist. It almost feels delicate under John's hand, though this is a man that understands exactly what it takes to hurt or break a man's wrist.
Considering this for a few moments, Sherlock turns his hand a little in John's grip until he can wrap his long fingers around the doctor's wrist as well, fingers strategically positioned so that he can take John's pulse, the results of which puzzle him. Still, the contact is relatively intimate and close to holding hands but not quite as significant. "I'll make sure to wake you again in a few hours." He agrees, wanting to make certain that his doctor will be alright. After the time and energy he's put into this relationship - the first in a long time - he doesn't want it to end tonight.
John nods a little and smiles faintly as he watches Sherlock. "Well, then.. try and get some rest." He says before he releases Sherlock and waits until he's released in turn, sliding back into bed and laying down, closing his eyes to try and rest.
With a nod of his head, Sherlock exits the room and closes the door behind him, going to make himself a cup of tea and add this information to the rest. When he and John were close - touching in fact - there were definite indicators of attraction. Which just serves to confuse the detective further, making him sigh and take his chair by the fire. Staring into it, the young man drinks his tea and considers the whole situation and what it means.
There are dark places in his mind that he's banished, there are a lot of things that John doesn't know about him. Afterall, there is a reason that he is the way he is today, several reasons in fact. Sure, he was always an odd duck when he was younger, too smart for his own good, always too observant and not understanding why he shouldn't say what he was observing.
When he was younger, that was ok, he learned to keep things to himself and that other kids - who were always cruel at that age, he was reassured - would not like him. So he locked himself away, discovered science and the purity in it. And then he went to University, and he thought maybe things would be different there. He was in one of the top schools and his peers seemed to be closer to his intellectual equals. So he relaxed, he opened up to a select number of people. Then there were the recreational drugs, and betrayal. Betrayal that cut deep and sent him further spiraling downward until Mycroft stepped in. And since then his emotions have been on complete lockdown and he avoids being close to anyone. Not that he ever really understood people and their social cues anyway, which only increased with the distance that he put between himself and other humans.
According to his mental version of John, though, he needed to revisit those dark places and bring them forward before he can understand what's going on and move forward. He's still not sure if the John in his head can be believed though and is skeptical about the entire thing. By the time he finishes his tea it's mostly gone cold but he hasn't noticed as he zones out in front of the fire. He can't go back to his Mind Palace yet, not when John might be in danger tonight. Of course, Sherlock isn't exactly sure if that's true but it's a good excuse to avoid going to those places that he's long since buried. Nothing truly goes away, afterall, most of it just remains buried and locked away.
Squee! Ok, there was a little bit of cuteness in this, I gave in. I have something Johnlocky planned, so I hope you won't give up on me! :) Enjoy, and for my American followers, Happy Thanksgiving!
Reviews/Comments welcome!