new chapter so let's say yay new chapters!
Disclaimer: Do obsessedwithstabler and I look like Moffat and Gatiss? NO. SO THAT MEANS WE DON'T OWN SHERLOCK.
Sixteen hours later, an exhausted John Watson sat by his best friend's hospital bed. Sherlock had been in surgery for several hours before his surgeon came out and told John that he was in stable condition. Much to John's relief, Sherlock had listed him as his next of kin, in the event of something like this. John was led to Sherlock's ICU room, where he pulled up a chair and sat down beside Sherlock's bed with the intention of not moving an inch until Sherlock opened his eyes. Several nurses had checked on Sherlock and remarked on how good of a friend John was for sitting with him. John just smiled. They had no idea.
Eventually John felt himself begin to relax despite the uncomfortable chair he sat in. Sherlock's condition was still stable and he felt comfortable enough to close his eyes. Before he did, however, he pulled his chair closer and folded his arms on the bed, a few inches from Sherlock's arm. Then he laid his head on his arms and closed his eyes, intent on taking just a short nap...
Sherlock regained some sense of consciousness half an hour later. He opened one eye and cringed when he was greeted with the light overhead.
He felt a thick wrap of gauze surrounding his side, but the cause was foggy in his mind. Why was he in the hospital? Why couldn't be remember anything?
And why did he feel so happy and dizzy?
For the first time he noticed John's blond head resting on the bed close to him. Blissfully unaware of his actions due to the painkillers he had been administered, he poked John's head and tweaked a strand of short blond hair.
Startled out of sleep, John sat up and wiped at his eyes blearily. When he moved his hands, he saw Sherlock smiling goofily at him. "You're awake..."
"I am...?" Sherlock blinked in confusion, the lopsided grin still stretching across his face.
"You are." John scooted his chair closer to Sherlock's bed. Sherlock's blue eyes were glassy; clearly he wasn't feeling any pain. John was relieved at the thought. "You should go back to sleep for a while. Your body needs time to recover."
Sherlock let out a long laugh. "Sleep... sleep is dull, Jawwwwnnnn." He reached out and lightly poked John's cheek.
Chuckling at Sherlock's heavy drawl, John reached up and gently grasped his best friend's hand. "I know it's dull, but your body needs it. The nurses seem to think you're going to sleep on and off for most of the next few days."
Sherlock scowled for a moment before staring at John long and hard. "You've got short light hair... your facial expression says it all. I deduce that you're a hedgehog."
Bemused, John smiled. "A hedgehog, huh? What does that make you? An otter?"
He gazed at John for a few more moments as if contemplating the idea. "An otter... it's a plausible theory..." he yawned.
"Plausible..."
Silence settled over them quickly and Sherlock's eyes closed again. When he felt confident the younger man was sleeping, John leaned down and feathered his fingers lightly through Sherlock's dark, unruly curls. The last sixteen hours had been the most harrowing of John's life. Now that he was certain Sherlock would be okay, he felt relief pulse through him. His knees wobbled as he hesitantly leaned in and ran his forefinger over the side of Sherlock's face, memorizing the contours and warmth of his skin. Once he'd had his fill, he sank back into his chair and breathed deeply, cradling his head in his hands.
And that was exactly how Sherlock saw him when he awoke some time later. The dizzying effect of the medication had worn off enough so that he could recognize his surroundings. He vaguely remembered hearing a gunshot a split moment before the bullet went through him. He touched his left side. Surely enough, the area throbbed with a dull pain underneath the thick layer of gauze.
The memory grew foggier but he distantly recalled John's voice pleading Sherlock to stay with him. He shifted his focus to the chair that John occupied. The other man still sat with his head cradled in his hands, unaware that he was being watched.
Sherlock cleared his throat. "John."
John lifted his head at the sound of his best friend's voice. His eyes settled on Sherlock's face and he offered a small smile. "Sherlock... How are you feeling?"
"Hurts a bit." He studied John closely, narrowing his eyes. "You've been here the whole time," he noted.
"Of course." John was a little surprised Sherlock could think he would have done otherwise. "I was worried about you."
Sherlock continued to stare at him. "I'm fine but you're still concerned." He managed to bite back a smirk at the slight look of annoyance on his friend's face. He could read John like an open book.
"I'm not even going to argue with you." John leaned back into his chair and smiled. Sherlock was okay. That was all that mattered.
"What a shame. A good argument would make this much less dull," Sherlock sighed, shifting uncomfortably in the stiff bed.
"I know how to make this less dull." There was a mischievous glint in John's eyes.
Genuinely surprised, Sherlock rose his eyebrows. "What?"
"See? You're already less bored."
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to. I can see it in your eyes."
"Can you?" Sherlock smirked. "You should leave the deductions to me, John."
John started to laugh. "Not when your deductions lead you to the conclusion that I'm a hedgehog."
"What are you talking about?" Sherlock asked in confusion.
"You woke up for a little while earlier. I made sure you were given the best pain relief, so you were very...out of sorts. You insisted I was a hedgehog."
"I did not." Sherlock gave him a look of disagreement.
"Oh, yes, you did. You also thought you resembled an otter."
"Why didn't you correct me?" Sherlock glared at John as if they were arguing over a deeply serious subject rather than animals.
"Oh, I could have. But you were too interested in saying my name." John mimicked Sherlock's earlier drawl perfectly.
He tried to harden his glare, but John's impression of him caused a chuckle to escape past his lips. He started to push aside the scratchy blanket. "I'm bored here. Let's go back to the flat."
"Absolutely not." John scrambled to his feet and grasped Sherlock's shoulders firmly. "You aren't leaving here for a week, at least."
"I can't stay here a week, John! Anderson will lower the IQ of the entire city by then. The flat is much more interesting."
"I know it is, and I'm sure Anderson won't get to the entire city. But right now, you need to rest." His fingers dug gently into Sherlock's shoulders. "You lost a lot of blood and your body needs time to recover."
"Take me to the flat and I can recover at home," he argued. "You were an army doctor. Your mental capacity is much better than the idiots here."
"Possibly," John acknowledged. "Still, I would feel better if you agreed to stay here."
"And I would feel better if you would take me out of this place."
"Sherlock..." The younger man's big blue eyes were pleading despite his hardened expression. "I suppose you would heal faster in familiar surroundings."
"Ah, then it's settled." Sherlock began to sit up, cringing and grabbing the wound area.
Shaking his head, John smoothed his hand absently over Sherlock's face. "Listen to me," he instructed gently. "Relax and concentrate on what I'm saying. Breathe.."
Sherlock relaxed, focusing on John's comforting voice rather than the increasing pain. He wouldn't deny that it hurt more than anything he had ever experienced, but the thought of going back to the flat with John still remained in the front of his mind.
John kept an eye on the heart monitor by Sherlock's bed. As his heart rate slowly decreased, John settled down but he kept one hand on the back of Sherlock's neck. Soon his heart rate was back in a normal range and John let out a relieved breath.
"Tomorrow, Sherlock. I'll take you home tomorrow."
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This story has one more part to come! So it's almost over, but have no fear! We're writing some other fics together that will be posted as soon as possible!
I have also diagnosed both obsessedwithstabler and myself with Reviewlackiosis. I discovered this disease a few years ago. Symptoms include foaming at the mouth, fangirling at unexpected intervals, despicable thoughts, Reichenbach-worthy feels, and repeated deaths. Risk factors include not receiving at least 739872138912 reviews, being a fangirl, taking part in the Sherlock fandom, and being an author.
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