Lessons in Friendship 3 - Setback
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Chapter 2 - Physical effects
When John woke an hour later with a slight start Sherlock suspected he had a bad dream.
Some more small talk followed.
They exchanged their thoughts about the tricks that had been done to Henry to scare him and madden him - and about Henry's house, built with a lot of glass. In the middle of this John suddenly asked Sherlock to pull over.
"Why? You need the loo?" Sherlock tried a bit of humour while looking for a proper place to stop.
"Please, Sherlock… now!" John urged.
"What is it?" Sherlock slowed the car, though still looking for a suitable wider part of the empty street.
"Would you just stop… NOW!" John was almost yelling, clearly in distress.
The detective contemplated him: sweating, pale, panting, stressed… panic attack?
He hurried to stop.
The car was still slightly moving when John threw open the door and jumped out.
"Stay in the car!" he ordered, tone military-like.
Sherlock looked after him in puzzlement.
Was he going to take a leak? The only reason why he might want privacy.
John headed towards a tree that was several meters ahead. Sherlock watched him closely and frowned when he saw the other man was slightly limping.
When the doctor swayed Sherlock decided than it was better to face John being angry than John hurting himself falling face first into the bitumen. He jumped out of the car, following his friend.
John leaned sideways against the tree, back to the road and the car, and before Sherlock could reach him sagged down next to it.
When Sherlock finally reached him John was sitting sunken against the tree.
Slowly, Sherlock rounded him and saw that John's eyes seemed empty, he was staring blindly ahead.
"John?" Sherlock stopped three feet away and squatted down in front of him.
No reaction, not even a blink?
"John?" he repeated, a bit louder.
"Go away, Sherlock. Just give me a minute of privacy, could you do that at least?… I know you don't have any respect or care to share, so that can't be too difficult, just ignore me," John's tone was icy and tense and he tried to turn away from the detective.
Then he suddenly turned over and threw up into the grass.
What was happening?
Food poisoning? Unlikely, too soon.
Upset stomach because of his driving?
No, it wasn't that bad.
Delayed reaction to the gas?
None of the listed side effects had said vomiting, though there were several cases of nausea.
Panic attack?
During the few occasions Sherlock had seen John suffer from panic, John had never thrown up, it also was not in the lists of common symptoms he had studied months ago.
Memories? Stress?
Likely.
Silent observation mode, nearby, he decided, better not damage anything more today.
When it became clear to him that he was staring, Sherlock turned around and walked back to the car, all the time closely listening for more severe things than retching.
He fetched some tissues, a small bottle of water, and John's medical bag.
When he hurried back John was dry heaving.
Luckily, the attack stopped a few moments later.
Sherlock held out the tissues, then the open water bottle.
John needed almost a minute to realise what was happening around him but then took them.
"Thanks," John washed his mouth with the water.
"You want to take any medication?" Sherlock opened the bag sitting between them.
With shaking hands, the doctor fetched a dropper bottles out of it. It took him some long moments to manage to open it and let several drops fall into the open and almost empty water bottle, one or two missed the opening and landed on his trousers.
At first, Sherlock expected it was an antiemetic but then he saw the label: it was an anti anxiety drug, a fast working one.
John sipped the medicated water slowly, not speaking a single word or looking at Sherlock.
Assuming he was finished Sherlock took the vial out of his fingers, put the cap back on and stored it back into the bag.
Panic attack then… add vomiting to possible reactions of this kind of attack/stress in the John-specific list of things occurring in the aftermath.
John leaned against the tree with his back now, eyes closed, stiff posture and trembling, as if waiting.
Maybe he was concentrating on keeping the liquid down?
What had caused the attack?
The detective was at a loss how to care for or comfort the other man. Asking John to tell him what was causing this was probably not the best idea. John might get agitated or get sick again, and he needed to keep the drug down.
Sherlock returned to the car and fetched a blanket that was in the back for emergencies.
Returning to John, he urged him to lean forward and wrapped the thing around his shoulders. The other man was only wearing his shirt and must be cold. To Sherlock's relief, John followed Sherlock's guiding movements without opening his eyes or having any second thoughts.
What now?
Maybe just wait for him to do what he knows would be best… just be present…
So, Sherlock sat down next to him, dragging his knees up and wrapped his arms around them in one of his preferred sitting positions, taking care that his shoulder was in light contact with John's.
In this case he went for the subtle physical contact since he needed it for gathering information, like when John might have stopped trembling and maybe even for… comfort?
If John noticed, he didn't react.
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They sat there for about half an hour, unmoving, until John started to sag sideways, but jerked back to full awareness.
"Come, on, let's get you to the car," Sherlock suggested.
They had planned to drive only the first half of the way back home and take the train for the second part of the journey, but Sherlock now realised it was not a good option and decided to go straight home by car.
It would take a lot longer, but John needed privacy now… and sleep, maybe?
John started to get up and Sherlock helped.
The doctor allowed him to help, he asserted a bit eased. Or maybe the medication had given him a don't-give-a-shit-about-anything-mentality?
They returned to the car and Sherlock convinced John to lie down in the back. After he had made sure John was as comfortable as possible he returned to the tree to fetch their belongings.
The doctor must have been aware what the medication would do to him. That it would make him sleepy and vulnerable, but he had taken it nevertheless. This was a bit unsettling from Sherlock's point of view. Giving up control was a major issue for him and he thought it was one of his friend's, too. So either John had trusted him to handle things or he had been in so much distress he didn't care. Which meant he was unable to handle whatever was happening and had decided he had no choice other than taking the drug.
Whatever had made John decide the way he had, it left Sherlock with a lot of responsibility. And he wanted to not disappoint John again, so he took his time to go through the things that needed to be done to take care of John's needs at the moment.
First, he set a mental reminder in form of a halfway blocked gas pedal to make him drive slow and careful on the upcoming trip. He knew driving like this – having a person not buckled in resting in the backseat - was forbidden, but in this case he deemed it was necessary. He'd wake John before they reached more busy streets.
John seemed to be asleep when he slipped into the driver's seat and he started the engine, or maybe his flatmate had retreated into his version of a mind palace or resting place or was just shutting out the world for a bit, or the drug had simply knocked him out.
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