A to Z of Sherlock's Darkness

[An A to Z format often seen anywhere else but in Sherlock's fanverse! Readers suggest a topic or word for each letter from B to Z (A already done) and I will pick one and write a one-shot on it. Starring Sherlock, John, Lestrade, Molly, Mycroft, Moriarty, and co. Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, bromance, and general darkness. Vulnerable Sherlock and protective!OCs. M to be safe!]

Disclaimer: I do not own BBC's Sherlock. All kudos goes to Moffat, Gatiss and Thompson. And the biggest, steamiest, pile of kudos goes to the legendary, genius, and generally sexy human being, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

-C is for Candy- Prompt suggested by Katwalsh & Idea by Blue Turtle of AWESOMENESS

"I love candy."
"Why am I here, Jim?"
"It's sooo bad for you."
"Will you please untie me?"
"Oh no Sher Sher. I think you look kind of…sweet. All tied up…like a piece of candy."
The brunette madman cackled at his own joke and popped another hard candy into his mouth. Sherlock glared at him and struggled against his bonds.
"Hm…this isn't fun. I'm leaving now. I'll come back when you're more fun," Moriarty pouted like a child and stood up, pushing the table back as he did so.
"Fun? What's so fun about any of this? If you want fun, untie me now. Then I'll show you fun," Sherlock hissed the last word, wincing slightly as the large gash on his temple throbbed in pain.
Moriarty let out a loud whoop, his eyes wide and flashing.
"Oh, I do love it when you're sassy , Sherlock. It just makes me…tingle!" he grinned and stalked up to the detective.
Without any indication, the madman pulled back his fist and slammed it across Sherlock's battered face. The detective reeled back, feeling as though he had just been hit with a brick, and he heaved in pain, his eyes squeezed shut against the onslaught.
"Red suits you, sweetie," Moriarty drawled, and he left the dank room, crunching on his candy.
Sherlock sighed in momentary relief after the madman had left. He would never be bored with Moriarity around, yes, but not being bored usually led to a lot of unnecessary pain. He sat up straight and shook his head, trying to get rid of the ringing in his ears. He quickly took stock of his injuries.
Newly healed ribs were bruised, but not broken again; various blows to the head meant he was concussed, possibly grade 3 concussion, however he wasn't too sure thanks to his addled brain; nausea, headache, confusion, and dizziness due to concussion; various cuts and bruises, the worst being the huge gash in his left temple; possible broken ankle, though the area affected was numb at this precise moment, which worried him; and just general soreness and stiffness from being tied to a chair for the past thirty odd hours, though Sherlock felt as though he had been in that room for at least a week.
He let out a deep breath and closed his eyes, hoping the dizziness would go away after a short rest…just a small sleep…nothing more-
NO!
Sherlock jerked awake and blinked dumbly. He was concussed. He was probably even suffering from second-impact syndrome. Though it was unlikely he would slip into a coma or die while asleep with the original concussion, if he fell asleep with a second concussion acquired so soon after the first one, he could succumb to complications in his sleep. He had to stay awake to monitor his progress. He couldn't afford to slip up – not now.
He drowsily started reciting the periodic table, lecturing the empty room about the property and uses for each element in a low, slurred voice. Over the next hour, he had to inflict more small cuts to himself to keep himself awake after almost falling asleep from sheer exhaustion. He was at his tether, he knew this, and he wasn't too sure how long he could keep this up. The nausea was strengthening and making him randomly retch and the pain in his skull was increasing with each passing minute, blurring his vision. He found himself almost delirious by the end of the first hour, babbling nonsense to nobody in particular. He kept hearing somebody call out for John in a scared, strangled voice, before suddenly realizing that the shaky voice was coming from him.
By the second hour, Sherlock briefly wondered where John was before his head lolled forwards and sleep finally sucked him in.

"Fre…"
He twitched.
"Freak…"
A groan escaped his lips.
"Oi, Freak!"
A hand shook him gently and he slowly came to consciousness, groggy and disoriented. His vision was blurry and a small throb in his head suddenly became an agonizing knife digging into his brain. Sherlock moaned without realizing it and he clamped his mouth shut, gritting his teeth.
"Freak, can you hear me?"
Sherlock blinked heavily, trying to focus on the human blob kneeling in front of him, and slowly, but surely, a hassled looking Sally Donovan came into view.
"John?" Sherlock chided himself internally and tried again. "Sally?" Better. But he had meant to say Donovan.
Donovan seemed to immediately understand that he was severely concussed and she quickly untied him.
"Yeah Freak, it's me. Must be really pleased to see me, right?" she let out a bitter laugh as she helped Sherlock down onto the floor.
Pain flared in his ankle and he squeezed his eyes shut, his spine reflexively stiffening.
"Is it your ankle?" Donovan shifted Sherlock to a more comfortable position and she studied his swollen ankle. "Yeah, it's broken," she confirmed.
"John?" Sherlock gasped.
"He's with Lestrade," Donovan said, her brow creased with worry.
"What happened?" Sherlock grasped the woman's arm in a vice-like grip, his heart suddenly thumping in panic.
Donovan stared at the usually emotionless detective's blatant display of concern for his friend. Definitely not a sociopath then, she thought to herself in shock. She shook her head and glanced at the door she had kicked open, after 'deducing' (as Sherlock would say) that the great detective was kept in this room.
"The last I saw them, they were fighting Moriarity's men. John yelled at me to go find you so I slipped away. There were only three of them, so John and Lestrade will be able to handle them," Sally added the last sentence after seeing Sherlock blanch, trying to comfort him as well as herself.
She briefly wondered why she was being so civil to the man who had constantly berated her for being "stupid, so stupid", when Sherlock suddenly keeled to the side. She quickly grasped his shoulders and wrapped an arm around them to support him.
"I've called for backup," Donovan told him, "so they should be here soon." If John and Lestrade don't manage to beat Moriarity's men,she added silently.
"How…" Sherlock winced and held a trembling hand to his head. "How did you find me?" he asked, through gritted teeth.
"Lestrade, John, and I were scouting this house after we deciphered the clue Moriarity left for us. We've basically been on a scavenger hunt for the past forty hours, trying to look for you," Donovan smiled grimly. "I guess we won the game."
"The game isn't over yet," Sherlock said faintly.
He was struggling to stay conscious and he was trying to focus on Donovan's voice, but it was a losing battle. Sweat beaded the detective's forehead with the sheer effort of being awake and pain wracked his thin body the longer he was conscious. Exhausted, Sherlock's eyes slid shut and his body went limp.
Donovan started, alarmed, and she gently patted Sherlock's cheek, trying to wake him without doing him further injury.
"Freak! Freak, you have you have to stay awake! Freak!"
She quickly felt for his pulse. It was faint but steady.
"Freak…Sherlock! Open your eyes, Sherlock!"
Glassy grey eyes met hers and she sighed in relief.
"Thank God. Sherlock, you have to stay awake, do you understand me? Otherwise you'll fall into a coma."
"Incorrect," the detective whispered through cracked lips.
Donovan blinked at him, surprised. "What?"
"Common misconception. Sleep will not kill me, in fact it is encouraged when one is concussed. Second impact syndrome is more likely to cause me to slip into a coma or my death."
Donovan let out a breathy laugh. "You're coherent. That's good."
"My coherency comes and goes," Sherlock grimaced.
They sat in silence for several minutes, waiting for John and Lestrade (or backup) to come and find them. Donovan eyed Sherlock's ankle which was swelling rapidly. She should be splinting it, keeping it in place, however she didn't want to exacerbate things (she was in the police force, not medicine). Her main job though, was to keep the great detective from falling asleep, which was proving more and more difficult as his concussion worsened. She was afraid that he was right, that he did have second-impact syndrome, but she didn't say anything out loud. She only dutifully kept him awake and tried to keep him entertained.
"Sherlock!"
Her heart leaped into her mouth as a bruised but otherwise healthy John Watson appeared in the doorway, followed by a breathless Lestrade.
"John?" Sherlock stiffened in her arms. She sat back on her heels as John rushed to his friend's side, quickly checking his injuries over.
"He's severely concussed, possibly suffering from second-impact syndrome. He has a deep gash in his left temple, a possible broken ankle, and I think bruised ribs from the way he favours his right side," Donovan said to John in a low voice.
The doctor nodded at her gratefully, though not without surprise at her apparent concern, and went back to checking the detective's vitals.
Lestrade helped Donovan to her feet. "Well done, Sally," he said with a small smile.
Donovan rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "I just did what I had to do. Doesn't mean I care about what happens to the freak," she drawled, slipping back into character.
Though her eyes, as always, gave her away.

-C is for Caring-
Sally cares about Sherlock.

a/n

Hello, hello! Hoped you enjoyed this chapter! All the prompts were so good, I decided to combine several of them together!
The prompt by Katwalsh is 'Candy' and the prompts by Blue Turtle of AWESOMENESS is 'Concussed' and 'Confused'! The idea of a caring!Donovan is also by Blue Turtle!
I hope you also liked my portrayal of Sally and Moriarity in this one-shot. It's hard to get the nuances of certain characters right!

Well, now it's time for the letter D.
Let me know a one-word prompt/idea etc in a review and let me know what you want!
Preferred OCs are also taken into consideration, so don't hold back!

An important notice:

I am on holidays at the moment at my parent's place (which has internet) but I am returning home tomorrow (which does NOT have internet). So I will not have internet/laptop until I get my laptop fixed which will take about two weeks! Never fear however, I will continue to write, so leave a review and I will use the next two weeks to write an extra long and extra awesome one-shot for you all!

Self Promotion ahoy: In the meantime, if you have nothing better to do, check out my other fic that I am currently working on called O, Saviour. It's about a dark, angsty Harry who becomes addicted to drugs and is haunted by the ghosts of his past.

Sorry about the long a/n (I always seem to have a lot of shit to say).

Hope the next two weeks are fun filled and awesome for you, my sexy readers! And I will see you then. NEVER FEAR, I WILL NEVER ABANDON YE!

I'm not hungry. Let's have dinner.

-Yuki xox