Blind Support for Sherlock Holmes
Chapter 2
John only had the staircase between himself and the bomber when a bright light flashed before his eyes followed a loud bang and a blast suddenly overpowered all his senses. He closed his eyes at some point, everything going suddenly dark, and shielded his face once again with his arm.
His ears were ringing painfully when he heard Sherlock's loud yells. He was screaming his name, shocked, panicked even. John wanted to calm him, let him know he was alive, but he could hardly make a sound. John opened his eyes, hoping to find Sherlock close by so that he could wave at him. He gasped in surprise and fright when he saw nothing. He tried blinking, but everything was just as black as before. Then suddenly hands were on him and he tried to pull away. He struggled with the hands that had captured his wrist, gasping for air and struggling with his thundering heartbeat. His ability to hear anything had completely left by now, and was replaced by a loud high-pitched noise. 'Tinnitus', John noted. Then the strong hands brought his palms to meet a cold object. A face. John only struggled weakly against the grip on his wrist while he carefully let his fingers search over it, and when he met soft curls on the top of it, he sighed in relief.
"Sherlock," he whispered. He was afraid if he spoke too loud he would startle him, not really sure of the volume of his own voice now that he could hardly hear himself speak. A hand on his face encouraged him to open his eyes, which he had clenched shut.
"I can't." John whispered, "The blast-" he opened his eyes wide, a natural reaction to when you can't see. Sort of like you do when it's really dark.
John was yet too shocked and confused by everything that just happened to consider if they were safe at their current location. The grip in his wrists loosened and an arm was hooked around his own, guiding him to a standing position. John simply followed the best he could. Cold air hit his face, and he gasped, sucking the air in. He realized he had felt nauseous, but the feeling now subsided because of the fresh air. He held a hand to his ear when a particularly harsh throb of pain his it, and he could feel Sherlock turn around to face him.
When the throbbing finally lessened John felt his hearing coming back to him. At first he heard Sherlock's voice as if he was really far away, or as if there was a wall between them. But it quickly escalated to being Sherlock almost yelling him right in the face, the sound of police cars, screaming pedestrians and cars honking.
"Sherlock! Sherlock, shut up, I can hear you!" Sherlock stopped immediately.
"Can you hear me?" Sherlock's voice had faded into almost nothing, and John swore he sounded like he was about to cry. But he must have been imagining it.
"That's what I just said!" John tried to sound annoyed, angry or somehow healthy enough to snap at Sherlock, but failed. His voice was small and breathy and only just audible. He heard Sherlock sigh in relief.
"Is- are you okay? Where are- are we outside?" John rambled, not really sure about what was going on around him. He tightened his grip on Sherlock's jacket- when did he even grab him? – and stood completely still as he heard heavy footsteps storming towards him.
"I'm fine, John, we're just outside the flat, on the other side of the street" Sherlock seemed to move his upper body, John guessed he was looking around, and the added "Police is approaching from all sides. I suppose they think they're 'controlling' the situation, though there's not much to control anymore. There's an ambulance on its way."
John felt Sherlock's body jerk in short quick movements.
"What is it?" John asked, almost afraid he was fighting something off, no matter how illogical it might sound.
"I'm only waving at Lestrade. He seems to be looking for us. Also, the ambulance is within hearing distance. You can hear it, right?" Sherlock actually seemed concerned there at the end. It still confused John. Was he bleeding out his ears or something? Was it really that bad? It occurred to him he had no idea how bad he looked- considering he was still utterly and completely blind.
"…No. Not yet I can't," he admitted. "Is Lestrade coming?"
"Right here John?" Lestrade's voice appeared right beside him, and John jumped violently, bumping into Sherlock who caught him by his unharmed shoulder.
"Whoa! Sorry, didn't mean to startle you! How did you not see me?" Greg said quickly. John imagined him throwing up his hands in surrender.
Sherlock answered before John had even pulled himself together after the innocent but great scare. "Temporary blindness. His hearing has been somewhat damaged as well. It will wear off soon enough."
"Good God, but it will, though, right? Go away I mean?" Greg asked uncertainty. Suddenly the piercing sound of an ambulance had John clasp a hand on his one ear, and Sherlock replied quickly: "Yes, his hearing seems to be getting better by the moment. The ambulance is here now. Let's go John."
John simply nodded, eyes still painfully wide and unseeing. He immediately feared bumping into countless police officers on the way to the ambulance, however long it may be, having Sherlock as his guide. But Sherlock seemed to either read his mind, or he might have had that look on his face he gets when he's almost solved a particularly mysterious crime that makes everyone run for their life when he gets near. Either way, John didn't crash into anyone or anything. The short walk made him aware of his weak legs, shaking all the way to now silent ambulance.
Being a doctor, John though he would have a better idea of what the hell was going on in that infuriating vehicle on the way to Bart's. But his hearing came and went randomly, so hearing only half words and sentences made him oblivious to whatever transpired on their hasted ride. He imagined Sherlock shifting between yelling at him and the crew, equally annoyed with everyone present, for whatever reasons he could come up with. John had learned that that was Sherlock's charming way of handling fear and uncertainty. Which, John dared believe, he felt right now. Suddenly he felt a painful stab in his left wrist, and he swatted at whatever pained him. "Auch! What the-?" his hearing came rushing back, leaving him to listen to Sherlock's childish giggles and a male cursing loudly. "What was that? What happened?"
It was the first thing he had said on the entire trip, and he felt someone looming over him, and was not surprised to hear Sherlock's voice close to his ear.
"You just smacked doctor Howard over the chin, that's what," and then more giggles.
"I what? Oh, God, I'm sorry!" John felt immensely embarrassed. And Sherlock wasn't helping. He should be more concerned and much less giggling. Goddamnit.
"Don't worry. It's fine," the doctor said somewhat restrained. John bit his lip. He hadn't held back with that punch. Was the doctor bleeding? Shit, if he was, no one would tell him. Except maybe Sherlock. Yeah, he's probably going to brag about his doctor-punching doctor. Christ, this is going to be awful.