Pain Management - Chapter 4
This is a collection of missing scenes from His Last Vow, SPOILERT ALERT! Don't read if you haven't seen the episode!
I have to admit two scenes from the episode triggered me (triggered like in PTSD). I love the episode so having it trigger me was not an option - because the next 375 times I want to watch the episode untriggered :) - I tried to work through it and this is the result!
Standard disclaimer: Sherlock, John and all other mentioned characters belong to BBC or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I just borrowed them for fun. I wrote this for my personal delight and improving my English, no copyright infringement intended. No money changed hands and no profit is being made.
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Part 4 - 221b
John's POV
"Average arrival time for a London ambulance is…" Sherlock looked at his watch.
Medics rushed into the room. "Did somebody call an ambulance?"
"…eight minutes," Sherlock finished his sentence.
Their sudden appearance made John stand up and left him disoriented for a few seconds.
"Did you bring any morphine?… I asked on the phone…"
John saw Sherlock checking his own pulse.
He must have called them himself then… and he must be really bad if he actually called an ambulance himself, John realised.
"We were told there was a shooting," the first paramedic said.
"There was, last week… But I believe I'm bleeding internally, my pulse is very erratic… You may need to restart my heart."
He tried to stand up but lost his balance immediately. John and Mary reached for him simultaneously and caught him.
"Sherlock…"
"John? "
Sherlock held onto his friend's shoulder with a firm and desperate grip while the medics were busy holding him upright.
"John… Magnussen is all that matters, now…" his breathing was laboured and his face was covered with a sheen of sweat. "You can trust Mary… She saved my life…"
John felt Sherlock trembling.
"She shot you."
"Ehm, mixed messages, I know… eh…" Sherlock's face contorted in pain as he sagged backwards, no longer able to hold himself upright. He moaned in pain.
John and the ambulance crew guided his body backwards towards the floor.
When Sherlock's hands reached out in John's direction it made John's chest hurt to see him collapsing, fighting the pain.
"Sherlock?… Alright… Take him…"
They laid him flat on the ground and one of the medics unwrapped an oxygen mask.
The detective was panting and the sounds of distress he made caused John to stand fozen in shock. He had never heard and seen Sherlock in such agony.
The fact that he couldn't mask it was a sign of how bad he really was.
In fact Sherlock had been breathing heavily for some time now, he had heard it, but he hadn't listenend… He had been too much occupied with his own crisis and thoughts, and had repeatedly thought 'We'll deal with that in a minute, as soon as we have sorted this out'. But then another this arose and he had pushed the thought to bring Sherlock back to the hospital back into the background again, and then another thing made it been delayed again.
And now he hadn't taken care of Sherlock's physical distress for over two hours.
Sherlock had put all his body's needs away to save John's and Mary's love and now his life was in danger because of that.
He had been in severe pain for some long hours and John had ignored it!
Not only ignored it, he had even threatened to punch him although Sherlock had looked like about to collapse and even said he needed some painkillers and that was abnormal already.
John had ignored Sherlock's desperation and distress and… Sherlock had showed signs of barely being able to stand, but John hadn't cared.
Right now Sherlock was either in so much pain or too much out of it to resist the medic pulling the mask over his face.
John stood there, trying to grasp what had happened in the past few minutes.
Sherlock's collapse in front of everybody threw him for a loop. He had been so focussed on his own shock… about Mary and his frustration that he had ignored Sherlock's needs at all, great doctor he was… and a great friend, too!
Sherlock must be really bad to let people see his weakness.
One of the medics attached an oximeter to Sherlock's lax fingers and the detective moaned again.
John was usually able to react fast and efficient. A soldier and emergency doctor in battle needed that ability, but right now he was… slow… things happened in slow-motion around him… He felt lost and overrun… He had deserted his best friend who was suffering for him and his relationship right now. The whole thing was just a mess, no matter from which angle one might look.
Finally, another sharp sound of Sherlock's distress brought him back to reality, John knelt down beside the smaller medic.
Doctor routine kicked in.
"He left the hospital AMA a few hours ago, he's got a central line and there are patches for a heart monitor still on his chest," he informed.
The medic reached for the wounded man's shirt to open it and Sherlock's hand flailed through the air, his distress growing.
"Its okay… I'm his doctor… he's not good with being touched, let me do this… Sherlock? You are with me?"
John opened Sherlock's shirt and held out his hand for the cable of the heart-monitor the bold paramedic was already unwrapping.
"He needs something for the pain, he unhooked his morphine pump hours ago and is now in severe pain. Did you bring some?" John asked the man.
"We can't administer it without permission."
"I give you permission," John fetched his wallet and showed his license, then put on gloves. The heart monitor was connected and started to beep fast.
"Now!" John fetched a penlight from the bag and gently lifted Sherlock's eyelids to check his pupils. Sherlock grunted in protest.
"We need a trolley," the bold medic had turned away and spoke into his radio.
"No…" Sherlock mumbled into the mask, he was obviously still aware, though his eyes were closed.
"Don't be ridiculous, mate, you can't walk down to the ambulance. What about the morphine?" he adressed the medic now, who was busy with a vial and a syringe.
"Bit more, won't knock him out but ease the pain," John commented when the man stopped filling the syringe.
The medics stared at him, John was aware the dose would knock a normal person out within seconds, but do little for Sherlock.
"I am his doctor," John simply explained and cleaned the port once more.
John took the syringe, checked it for bubbles and slowly pushed the medication it into the central line, with the skill of having done that a thousand times. While doing that he watched the display of the heart monitor.
Sherlock lifted an uncoordinated shaking hand and it came to rest against the socket of John's armchair, which was limiting his movement. John watched him was blinking, his eyes half open now, the effect of the drug kicking in fast.
John realised his friend had brought the comforter back in as an offer, he understood now. Sherlock wanted to let him know that he was always welcome at 221b and that he had a home here in case he wanted to.
What Sherlock had done in the past days materialised more and more clearly in front of his inner eye and it was… unselfish and… self-sacrificing.
Sherlock had done a lot of those things in the past months… Was he still kind of feeling guilty for the pain his faked death had caused?… Was he doing this out of remorse or out of… a bond of brotherly love? John was aware this was more than just friendship… and it caused a lump in his throat when he remembered that weeks ago Sherlock hadn't even dared to think of himself as John's best friend.
John bit his lower lip to keep his own emotions bottled up when he felt tears rising in his eyes.
He needed to focus on the task at hand!
He watched the lines on the monitor again.
Sherlock blinked once more, his eyes glazed over.
"Shh… You'll be fine, Sherlock… Relax… no signs for serious heart problems."
He took Sherlock's other hand and gently squeezed it.
Sherlock's heartbeat slowed down a bit, he exhaled loud when the pain ebbed.
"You'll be fine," John stated again, not only to soothe Sherlock, but himself, too.
Then suddenly, with another deep exhale, Sherlock's hand went limb in his and his eyes rolled back, his body relaxed into induced sleep.
John cursed, Sherlock must have been really on the end of his tether and eager to escape the pain.
Another pair of medics came in and gently loaded Sherlock onto the gurney they brought, wrapped him in a blanket and buckled him in. John felt a slight panic rise when he remembered the last two times he had witnessed this. He realised he was in a light shock himself and fetched his jacket.
Mary still standing there… she had stood there the whole time, not moving, not saying anything. He inhaled to say something but then didn't know what to say. She just stood there, watching him, her eyes were sad and afraid.
When the medics started to carry Sherlock downstairs he followed them.
"John…" Mary found her ability to talk.
"Go home. I won't come home any time soon… and stay the hell away from him!" his voice was grumpy and he didn't look at her.
His life was a mess.
He had failed to protect his friend in the past hours and he needed to care for him now, everything else was not important, he didn't care what she did for now.
He hurried into the ambulance and seconds later it sped off.
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A/N:
I would really like to know what you think. Constructive criticism needed!….
Please, please review!
