Okay so lets see if this is easier to read. I had a little help this time. This chapter was written by me and Probably the next few will be. my friend dropped it and probably won't help anymore so you get me! Hope it's good.
I do not own Sherlock.
John saw the bodies and stumbled back. One had died from massive bleeding from a gunshot wound and the other two from slit throats. He sighed when he finally noticed none of them were Sherlock. He started looking frantically around. He spotted a trail of blood that led behind one of the many piled wooden crates. He followed it and saw Sherlock. He was curled in a small ball behind the crate, covered in blood.
John knelt down and touched Sherlock's face lightly. Sherlock startled and shook his head. "John?"
"Yes. Sherlock, you have to tell me, where are you hurt?" John asked slowly.
"My back and..." Sherlock's eyes went wide as he shuddered.
"What's wrong?" John searched Sherlock's body with his eyes,"Dear Lord, Sherlock! Is that seven patches?"
"Seven patch problem." he mumbled.
"Lestrade! Ambulance. Now!" John yelled. He looked back down at the man in his arms, slowly fading.
"John, two got away." Sherlock said, his eyes starting to flutter.
"We'll get them. Just rest." He tried to keep calm as he felt Sherlock loosen his grip. His body seemed to grow lighter as his consciousness left him. Sherlock's breath came in short gasps as John watched," Now, Sherlock." He started. He shook Sherlock's now limp form," Sherlock? SHERLOCK!"
John sat in the waiting room and tapped his knees. It had been hours since they took Sherlock back. He stood and paced, sitting back down then standing against the wall. He paced a little more until he finally dosed at about two in the morning. Finally he was shaken awake by Sarah.
"How long have you been here?"John Mumbled Groggily.
"A while." Sarah said, looking at her hands," They're asking for you."
"Why?" John rubbed his eyes.
"Mycroft is out of the country, so you're the next on his friends and family list." She smiled sadly.
"He has one of those?"
"Yes. Go on." She helped him stand and pushed him in a random direction. He saw a doctor smile and he walked over to him.
"Dr. John Watson?" The doctor said.
"Yes?" He asked, licking his dry lips in anticipation.
"Well, his body didn't react well to the seven nicotine patches. His heart was beating far too fast. The wounds on his back weren't deep enough to do any major damage, but they'll probably hinder him in the future. Other than that, he should make a full recovery in a month or so."
"Good. That's good. Is he going to be allowed out soon? He gets bored easily." John smiled at the inside joke.
"By tomorrow, though it's against our better judgment. He's awake if you want to go in." The doctor smiled and pointed out the room before continuing on his way. John went in to find the detective laying in the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling. The white sterile room made Sherlock look so frail.
"Sherlock?" John whispered. Sherlock didn't look at him, but he nodded. John sat next to his bed.
"What do they have on my arm?" Sherlock said, flexing the arm closest to John. He scratched at the tube they had attached at the crook of his elbow.
"Not sure. Probably morphine." John Shrugged.
"Probably. I don't want it." He stated.
"Sherlock, you'll get out of here tomorrow. You must deal with it for now."
"I don't want it." He grabbed it and John quickly stood up and put his hand over Sherlock's. He never realized how large Sherlock's hands actually were.
"Sherlock, deal with it. The quicker you get better the quicker we can leave." John looked into Sherlock's color changing eyes and Sherlock smiled.
"Fine." John let his hand linger for another moment then sat back in the chair.
"So. Are you alright?" He asked. Sherlock's eyes suddenly went a cold, steely blue and he turned to his side, facing away from John.
"Fine."
Sherlock stepped into the living area of 221B and slumped onto the couch. He winced as pain arched through his back.
"Ready for your pain meds?" John asked.
"No. Do we have a new case?" Sherlock asked.
"No. You're on leave."
"This job doesn't get leave!" Sherlock shouted.
"Who says? Your boss? You invented it!" John took two pills out of the bottle and got a glass of water. He promptly sat them on the table in front of Sherlock and sat in the chair across from him.
"I'm not taking them." Sherlock mumbled to the roof.
"Then you're not getting any new cases." John grinned and sat back in the chair. Sherlock glanced at him then sat up and threw the pills down his throat and drank the water in one gulp.
"Better?" He choked out.
"I love how childish you can be." John said, standing and leaving Sherlock to brood in silence. Sherlock sighed then shook his head. He grinned then laid back down, slowly drifting to sleep.
John bolted awake. He wasn't dreaming so what woke him? Suddenly he heard screaming in the other room. He stood up and grabbed his gun.
Sherlock, he thought. He burst through the door, down the stairs and kicked Sherlock's door in. He saw the shirtless younger man wrapped in his sheets and blanket, screaming and hitting himself as well as thrashing against the wall. Sherlock suddenly shoved himself off the bed and John leaped forward and caught him.
"Sherlock, wake up! Sherlock Holmes! Wake up!" Sherlock got one good punch in on John before he regained awareness. He blinked a few times then stared at John.
"John." He huffed," Are you alright?"
"Yes. Jus... meh noze... wha' 'bou' you?"
"I... fine." He started gasping as if he just remembered why he was screaming seconds earlier. He glanced around and started to hyperventilate and tremble. John took hold of one of Sherlock's wrists and Sherlock jumped but John pulled him closer and into a hug. Sherlock squirmed then completely broke down in the older man's arms.
Blood oozed from John's nose for a moment but he looked up and it soon ebbed away as he held the trembling man on the floor of his room. Sherlock slowly calmed down and started to drift off when John lifted him onto the bed.
"John. Could..." Sherlock started. John knew the younger man's pride was hurt by this and knew anything else might break him, so he didn't make Sherlock ask.
"I'll go get a blanket and pillow for the floor." He smiled. Sherlock cleared his throat uncomfortably and nodded as he lay back down.
Thank you to waterbaby84 , drjamband , Mclennarrson-1964, OrangeZest100, annabelleaurelius , Blacksabby , WitchRavenFox , and Jenna for your reviews! Thanks for all the help.
Special thanks to GrayScreen. :)