Chapter 6: Doctor John H. Watson
As soon as the cab had reached 221b John had pulled his hand away from Sherlock's and payed the cabbie. By the time he had reached the flat, Sherlock was already coat and scarfless, seated at the kitchen table over some type of experiment.
"Sherlock?" John asks from the doorway of the kitchen.
"Yes?" Sherlock says without looking up from his test tubes. John thinks for a moment before answering, looking at Sherlock's hands on the beakers and remembering the warmth they had provided in the taxi only moments ago.
"I'm going to bed."
"Goodnight then." Sherlock says again with out glancing up. John stays for a moment and observes his flatmate, his hands flying over the different chemicals and papers, he seems entirely involved in his work, oblivious to John standing only a few feet away. John feels a tiny flicker of annoyance at the fact that Sherlock is so indifferent, and a larger burst of annoyance at himself for feeling rejected by Sherlock.
As John turns away mentally kicking himself, Sherlock clears his throat. "John?"
"Yeah?" he says quickly looking over his shoulder.
Sherlock is looking at John now, his eyes bright in the semi-dark room and John is positive that Sherlock is about to tell him off for holding his hand, and bring up the fact that he is married to his work. "goodnight." he says again, with a little smile.
"'night Sherlock."
New Message: 3:23AM:
I may be in need of some assistance.
SH
John grimaces as he looks at the time stamp on the text message, 3:23AM. What could Sherlock possibly need at this hour of the morning? John is fairly sure that Sherlock's definition of assistance covers, fetching his slippers, or getting him some biscuits at this ungodly hour. John tucks his phone beneath his pillow and lays back down. Only seconds later it buzzes again.
New Message: 3:24AM:
It's quite urgent.
SH
John sighs, rolls over to the side of the bed, and begrudgingly pulls on a jumper off the floor. Without bothering to put pajamas on over his shorts the doctor quickly makes his way down the stairs cursing his flatmate.
"John," Sherlock sighs in relief as he enters the kitchen. From what John can immediately see, there is nothing wrong; Sherlock is standing over the counter by the sink, his back towards John but his head turned over his shoulder.
"What is it Sher? It's three in the morning."
"John, I need help." As he says it, John detects the note of panic in his voice, then sees that the tiny bit of color normally in Sherlock's face has gone. John steps closer and sees that Sherlock is holding his hand over the sink wrapped in what looks like one of their nice dish towels.
"Oh, Christ Sherlock what did you do?" He says reaching out for the detective's hand. "let me have a look."
Slowly and carefully John peels back the layers of towel, each time the cloth beneath becomes redder and darker with blood. The cut beneath is something quite alarming, and leaves John wondering just how Sherlock had achieved it.
"It looks like you've cut through some muscle but luckily the human palm is a well padded area." John says in his doctor voice as though addressing a young child. The gash in his friend's left hand reaches from the base of his thumb to bottom of his ring finger. "it looks like you'll need stitches." John says as he notices that Sherlock is still bleeding quite a bit. "sit down at the table, I'll be right back, try to keep your hand above your head."
Moments later John returns with his med kit to find Sherlock with both hands up in the air, one holding the other and his feet up on the kitchen table.
"John. are you going to do the stitches?" He asks sounding very childlike.
"Yes, I know how you feel about hospitals. Now give me your hand and sit properly" John sits down in the chair next to Sherlock and turns to face him, their knees only brushing. "This may hurt a bit."
As John finishes the stitches, cleans the wound again and binds Sherlock's hand in gauze he feels Sherlock's uninjured hand slide onto his bare knee.
"How does it feel?" John asks dropping the bound hand lightly.
Sherlock looks at it and raises an eyebrow. "I can hardly feel it."
John looks down at the uninjured hand on his knee as Sherlock examines John's handy work. Sherlock's long fingers are cold on his pale leg, but it's such an endearing and nonthreatening gesture that John doesn't mind the cold.
"John?"
"mhm?" sighs John.
"I, um, sorry." he says uncertainly, and digs his fingers slightly into John's leg.
"for what?"
"Waking you up I guess." Sherlock says, standing abruptly. John quirks an eyebrow at this sudden movement, then follows suit standing as well.
"It's no problem. just next time your decide to slice your hand open, or God forbid, chop a finger off, don't use the nice dish towels alright?"
A little smile cracks on Sherlock's face. "alright."
The pair stands in comfortable silence, both smiling at each other and John wonders what Sherlock is thinking. What could possibly be making this brilliant man smile so beautifully? John chides himself for thinking that Sherlock is beautiful, but deep down he knows it's the truth, and there is hardly any other way to describe him."You should go to bed, I can't believe you're still up."
Sherlock chuckles. "I told you I don't sleep that much."
"I know, but you're not on a case right now, so go get some rest." Captain John says with as much authority as he can.
Sherlock rolls his eyes and turns toward the door. "You should come to bed too, I mean, go to bed, you should go to your bed."
John smiles. "Yeah, I know."
I'm so sorry that this too so ling to update, but I've been on holiday. anyways, this chapter is basically just fluff! hope you like it, let me know what you think!