Pain Management - Chapter 8
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.
If you haven't seen the deleted scene, this might make no sense to you. But be warned, the scene is kind of creepy and quite intense. You find it on the new special edition blue-ray or where-Sherlock-learned how-to-make-opera-houses-and-swans-from-serviettes. :)
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This story was originally completed on March 11th 2014 but I now feel the need to add this, kind of post scriptum. If you want to believe the deleted scene didn't happen don't read this!
This chapter is what I think happened after the deleted scene, that I saw for the first time in the first days of November, it took exactly twenty minutes until I started typing this.
The thing why the scene was kind of unsettling for me was that someone touched Sherlock's hands. I had just published two chapters of my other story 'Lessons in Friendship 8 - Define vulnerability' three weeks earlier that deal with Sherlock's hands and John inspecting them after suspecting injuries, which was quite intense for me to write.
Hands are really important for me and the last thing of another person I'd touch if not asked to. I love to wear gloves, sometimes even cotton ones on the job, I know I am odd, no need to tell me :) Unfortunately there are handshakes in this society… I hate them. Allowing someone to really touch my hands would mean I trust that person a lot. So the scene really touched a nerve and I can absolutely understand that this would freak Sherlock out.
I tried to figure out where the scene would have belonged if it was in the episode (found nothing online, yet, if you do, tell me).
I assume that it was after Mary's visit because that was early in the whole hospital thing and there weren't any flowers. When Janine was there, there were still less flowers and Sherlock was not really out of it any more, when Sherlock escaped there were still less flowers, this kind of makes me assume that the scene takes place when Sherlock is in hospital for the second time after his collapse at the flat. And Magnussen doesn't know Sherlock and John know about Mary and had her tell them her story.
I try not to sort the scene into a timeline too much, but if it happens accidentally this is why.
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Part 8 – Magnussen's visit - Missing scene for the deleted scene
John had gone to get some decent coffee from the bakery across the street.
Sherlock was too much out of it to complain about John drinking coffee and him not being allowed to anyway.
When John came back some time later and had just closed the door Sherlock opened bleary swollen eyes.
"Oh, hi." John smiled down at him.
Before John had time to sit down he felt Sherlock's hand twitch, he looked down at it. When his gaze returned to Sherlock's face he saw Sherlock fighting hard to open his eyes fully.
Sensing something was different from when he had left a few minutes earlier John looked over his shoulder at the monitors.
Sherlock's BP was a lot higher than before, and his heart rate was also elevated. The doctor frowned.
Was Sherlock getting agitated again? That had happened too often since Sherlock first woke up right after the surgery for John's liking.
Sherlock was either out or his wheels were spinning too fast. They had him quite dosed up since he had escaped before, at least to their standards, but John suspected Sherlock was in more pain and more aware than the hospital staff expected, due to his former drug use.
Maybe he was unsettled because of the painkilling effect only being moderate? Should he order more morphine?
Sherlock's breathing was also a bit fast for the doctor's liking.
John put the coffee on the bedside table and inspected the dropping rate of the infusion, the perfusor pump was gone, maybe because the staff feared Sherlock would nick that one, too. Or maybe because the drip was out of his reach so he couldn't manipulate it. John tried to make a mental note to bring it back from Leinster Gardens.
"Sherlock, are you okay?"
Sherlock just blinked rapidly in slow motion and managed to keep his eyes half open finally.
"How's the pain?" John leaned over Sherlock, his hands on the edge of the bed.
The detective minutely shook his head.
"What is it, then?"
"Mag'ssn…" Sherlock managed, pretty much out of it, still, but clearly agitated.
Sherlock's hand twitched repeatedly. "Wa…"
"What about him?" John asked.
"Wash…"
"What?"
"Wash… hand." Sherlock moaned.
"Sorry, you want to know if I washed my hands?"
Sherlock shook his head, eyes now closed again.
"Sherlock, are you dreaming? Can you hear me at all?"
A minute nod, Sherlock's eyes reopened arduously.
"Wash ma… hand, please… 'nd fface."
"What?" John didn't understand. Sherlock must be babbling. He'd never ever ask John to wash him in any state of mind. Before Sherlock would ask for this he would stay dirty…. and he wasn't right now, he had been cleaned and taken care of by the nurses.
"Magn'ssn… hand…" Sherlock slurred with a slight unnerved undertone, his eyes wider open in agitation. John's gaze wandered to Sherlock's right hand, which was on the bed, finger in the pulse oximeter. The doctor sat down and took the hand to check if there was something wrong with it.
Sherlock jerked it away the moment he touched his wrist, the movement was uncoordinated and Sherlock exhaled sharply, maybe from the pain the movements caused? But this looked more like… panic?
"Hey, hey… it's okay…"
Sherlock was sensible to touch, did not like it at all, especially his hands were. He tried to prevent anyone from touching them as often as possible, John knew that. But usually John was allowed to touch him. Then John saw Sherlock that raised his left one from the other side of the bed. Maybe that was the hand with the problem? John rounded the bed.
The room was definitely crowded with too many flowers lately! It was starting to feel tight with all the bouquets Sherlock probably didn't even care about. He had to maneuver around them, how was the staff doing this? John had already wondered why Sherlock tolerated the smell and the colours. But he was probably too much out of it to care. Anyway, the room had more similarity with a bloody flower shop than a hospital room. John decided to take care of that later, maybe only keep the ones from persons actually close to Sherlock.
John lifted Sherlock's other hand from the bed and this time the supine man did not pull it away.
"What's wrong with the hand?" He gently asked.
Sherlock opened his eyes, which had closed again, John asked himself if Sherlock would remember this later.
"Need a … bathroom." Sherlock tried to lift his head.
"No, no! What are you doing?… You can't get up!… And you do not need a bathroom."
"Need… wash…"
"What?… Why?"
"Ma'ssen touch'me."
"What? No." What the hell was he talking about? "Before you were shot?" John tried to find out what this was about. Had Sherlock had a nightmare?
"No." Sherlock huffed, and John saw a glimpse of what made his intern alarms switch on… panic, he was sure now. "Jus'few moments ago…"
"Sherlock, you are high from the morphine, you hallucinated…" He tried to calm them both.
"No!" Sherlock again tried to lift his head.
"No, we are not doing that again!"
"The' get me washcloth 'nd soap." Adrenaline seemed to make the effect of the sedating medications more and more worthless.
"Blimey, Sherlock, calm down and tell me what happened." John hoped that if he listened Sherlock he would settle down again.
"Mary'nussen… here… sucked or kissed m'hand… stubble… disgusting." Sherlock slurred, breathing heavy in between.
"Shit. What else?"
"Couldn't move... Touched… face…"
"With his hand?"
"No, 'is face."
"What?" John once more wondered if Sherlock was hallucinating. If he was, it was odd, if he was not, this was… horrible. Sherlock must feel perturbed.
"Feel dirty. Wash, please."
John leaned a bit closer and sniffed. There was indeed a hint of a subtle aftershave in the air that did not belong to Sherlock. That was when he felt something gave him horripilation. Was Sherlock telling the truth? Shit! He was!
"Wait, wait, what did he want?" He tried to find out a bit more.
"Blackmail me… with Mary. Er,… feel sick…. Breached."
"Jesus, Sherlock…" John stammered.
"Ge' his… flowers out."
"What flowers?"
"He sent… flow'rs, get themout." Sherlock was moving around nervously. "Get me antiseptic… sanitizer or something."
"All right, I will get something… in a minute, but you need to calm down a bit, first, okay?…" John rested a hand on Sherlock's shoulder and Sherlock did a deeper breath.
"Did he do something else?"
"Took off oximeter… put back on later."
Now, that was actually good to find out if this really happened, it sounded to creepy to have really happened. John went to the machine and read the recordings, to his horror he saw a short period of time where the machine hadn't recorded any data a few minutes before.
John reached for his phone and dialled Lestrade.
"Hi, Greg… Yeah. Not fine, not really. We have a problem…. Sherlock just had an unwelcome visitor, who threatened him…. Magnussen…. Can you put a guard at the door?… Yes… Okay… See you, then."
John hung up and pushed the call button for the nurse.
"Yes?" A voice answered through the intercom.
"This is Dr Watson, I need some antiseptic washing lotion or skin sanitizer and a set of bathing cloths and a towel, please."
"Yes, doctor." The voice answered kindly.
"Thank you."
John saw Sherlock had closed his eyes again. He realised his own pulse was fast, the thing had provided him with an adrenaline boost, too. God, Magnussen really was an arse, John felt the urgent need to punch him.
Sherlock was so sensitive to touch. And touch him like this was disgusting. No wonder Sherlock was agitated and felt dirty. Had he really done something similar to kissing Sherlock? That would be kind of an assault, though probably not meant to be sexual at all. Chances were high it was to humiliate Sherlock, an act similar to urinating in their fireplace. Stepping over the detective's personal boundaries in the most disgusting and belittling way possible.
John felt sick himself even thinking about it, how must it have felt for Sherlock? He was barely able to move, even open his eyes, his mind disoriented from the meds and he was totally helpless in this state, being vulnerable was even more difficult for Sherlock than for other people. Sherlock needed to be in control. It was probably panic John had sensed and still did. Sherlock felt no longer safe here. First he was afraid of Mary coming back to finish her job and now Magnussen violated him like this. John needed to do everything he could to make Sherlock feel safer again, otherwise he'd have to deal with a second escape in a few hours.
"Did he say something else?"
"I… wash…"
"It's okay, Sherlock, it's okay. It was a dumb question, don't talk, rest. I understand. I will take care of this, and you won't be alone here."
John saw Sherlock was trying to fight off the drugs, but it really was a fight. Sherlock was shivering with the effort. The man was exhausted and supposed to stay calm and relaxed. This was not good.
"Washing stuff is on the way."
Sherlock gave an understanding little huff and gulped.
"Just calm down. Greg will put a guard at the door. None will come in here again."
A soft knock at the door informed them of the arrival of a nurse aide. When she put the stuff down and pulled on a pair of clean gloves Sherlock hissed and John understood that as a warning not to touch him.
"Er, thank you, Miss… Can you just leave it here? I'll take care of that."
She looked confused.
"New sheet." Sherlock murmured.
"Could you please bring a new blanket with fresh linens?" John asked the aide.
She frowned but then seemed to remember something and left.
"Ta." Sherlock breathed.
"Okay. There's soap and… "
"No… Use alcohol."
"Seriously? No! I can't wash your face with alcohol."
"Yes, do it!" Sherlock grunted, unnerved and a bit angry which made him a bit more conscious. "Whole hand, arm, too."
John bit his lips in sympathy. What Magnussen had done was really a low blow, especially while Sherlock was most vulnerable. The loss of control was already an issue for the detective, but using this state to actually assault him, this was simply obnoxious. But that was probably exactly what Magnussen had intended.
"Yes, alright." The doctor agreed in a low voice, understanding the need to really clean Sherlock from the lingering touch.
John started wetting the warmed cloth generously with skin disinfecting solution.
He soundly cleaned first Sherlock's arm, than every single finger and even wetted a new cloth and repeated the procedure thoroughly on every digit and knuckle. Finally he wiped the oximeter before he put it back onto Sherlock's middle finger.
Sherlock relaxed a bit but was overall pretty tensed up. He endured it all without a twitch or any comment.
When the head nurse brought a new blanket they hurried to change it together. John saw Sherlock shiver with the cold from the fresh linen.
"I was informed you had an unwanted visitor…"
John nodded, Sherlock ignored her, his eyes were closed. He hadn't moved or reacted at all since John had started to wash his hand.
"I… " She started but then just lifted a syringe, John understood immediately what it was and nodded, she slowly injected the content into the IV line. John thanked her and she was on her way.
"Sherlock?"
"Hm?"
"Can I continue?"
Sherlock tried to blink, but only managed to open his eyes a slit. Then a slight, tired nod.
"Okay. Keep your eyes closed. I will take care of your face now. Stop me if it gets too much."
Sherlock held perfectly still and John took his time to do this in a way that was not only meant to clean the man but also to comfort him, to put a new kind of touch and replace the bad one with it. He removed the oxygen tube and even wiped it before putting it back onto Sherlock's face.
Sherlock's eyes had been swollen and wet before, but now they were watering from the irritation, too.
Sherlock's sensitive skin became red and was probably also burning, but Sherlock started to relax under the touch and his breathing was slowing down, getting deeper.
"That's good, relax." John encouraged him. "I will take care of this."
A hint of a smile brushed over Sherlock's face before he slipped into sleep once more.
John finished the cleaning with a cloth just wetted with water and checked the other man's vitals.
When he was finally finished and sat down he found he couldn't drink the coffee, he still felt slightly nauseous from what he had learned.
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Lestrade knocked twenty minutes later and John stepped out with the now only lukewarm coffee and talked to Lestrade. He did not tell him what had exactly happened, only that Sherlock felt not good with people getting in, Lestrade perfectly understood and a guard appeared a few minutes later.
By then John had returned to Sherlock's side and Lestrade had left. The doctor didn't like to be outside Sherlock's room right now and rolled his eyes inwardly about his own protective instinct that had just woken up.
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A/N:
This was hard to write. Hope you liked it... Constructive criticism welcome….
Please review!
