Sherlock stiffened suddenly on the couch, his hands frozen against the back.
"Sherlock?" John questioned.
"Shhh!" Sherlock hissed at him.
So John shushed and waited for Sherlock to explain. Sherlock turned around to face him.
"You're real," he whispered.
"Yes," John confirmed.
Sherlock shot up to a sitting position and paused, his eyes wide. He wobbled for a bit then turned back to John.
"Why are you mad?" he questioned earnestly, "I'm very sorry for it. Whatever it is that I did, I'm really sorry about it. Really, really, really and truly I am. I am."
"I'm not mad, Sherlock," John answered tiredly, "Some things happened and I got held up at the clinic."
"Why didn't you tell me that?" Sherlock demanded, "I thought you were never coming back! I thought you left like everyone else! I thought you hated me!"
"I was tied up, Sherlock," John said gently, "I couldn't text you or call, because something really big happened."
Sherlock's face screwed up and then he let out a wail before burying his face in his hands. John leaned forward and pulled Sherlock into him. He sighed heavily, stroking the other man's hair.
"It's ok, Sherlock," John whispered, "I'm here. I'm never going to leave."
The younger man shuddered in his arms, burying his face into John's shoulder. John heard Sherlock giggle and sob and then giggle again. He tried to ignore it, but Sherlock kept going back and forth between giggling and sobbing. He looked toward the door, willing someone to come through it and save him from this embarrassment. His heart ached for Sherlock, but it didn't make any easier for him to deal with a drugged Sherlock. Finally, after a few moments that felt like years, Mycroft appeared in the doorway. He raised his eyebrow at the two men and came forward.
"Is he alright?" Mycroft questioned.
Sherlock's head snapped up, hitting John's jaw. He glared at his older brother.
"Go away!" Sherlock shouted at him, "This is my John! You have to go get your own! No more stealing from me!"
"Sherlock, I only stole from you once," Mycroft answered tightly, "And you know that."
"Liar!" Sherlock yelled at him, "You took Lestrade! He was supposed to be my friend, but you took him! And my turtle! And my razors! And you took Arthur! You took him! You stole him away! Well, you can't have John! I love him too much to let you have him!"
John felt his cheeks heat slightly at that comment. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, hugging him close to his skinny chest. John looked up at Mycroft, sheepishly and shrugged slightly.
"He's mine!" Sherlock cried out, his voice breaking.
"Come on, Sherlock," John muttered, "Mycroft doesn't want me. He wants to help you, ok? So let's go, ok?"
"Ok, John," Sherlock answered.
He stood up to obediently leave the flat, but as he took a step, he shrieked and turned, grabbing a hold of John.
"The floor is gone!" Sherlock shouted in a panicked voice.
John sighed heavily and grabbed the detective close to him. He hauled the frightened mess up by his ass.
"Hold on, Sherlock," John commanded, "I've got you."
Sherlock's arms slid around John's neck and his legs wrapped around John's waist. John pressed his hands into the small of Sherlock's back and started forward. Sherlock was incredibly light, which didn't come as much of a surprise to him. At the curb was a black car, as per the usual from Mycroft. Someone opened the door and John practically threw Sherlock into the car.
"The car will take you to a safe place," Mycroft's voice came from somewhere behind John, "There's a doctor there that knows Sherlock. He'll pump his stomach. Then Sherlock will probably sleep for several hours. You will stay with him. Inform your coworkers that you will not be able to come into work for at least a week. I will have some acquaintances of mine go over to take your place at the clinic. Do not leave his side, Dr. Watson."
John felt like snapping at Mycroft that he wasn't Sherlock's babysitter, but he knew that Sherlock needed him. John turned to Mycroft and stood to attention. He didn't salute the other man, but instead he nodded. Mycroft nodded back. John then slid into the car beside Sherlock, who had pulled his feet up on the seat. The door slammed closed and the car started driving. John tried to keep Sherlock calm as the car raced to the safe place Mycroft had spoken about.
Little note: Hi dearies. Sorry that this chapter is short, but my muse shouted at me that this is where I should end this chapter. Hope you enjoyed it! Love you all for your support!