Author's Note:

I was nervous about Irene's character, since I was the one who wrote for her. Glad you guys seemed to like how the last chapter and her part in it. Thanks again to everyone who is reviewing!

Jamie smiled softly. "The soldier I will be dropping you off with is Andrea Summers. You will like her." He slowed the jeep down slightly. "Keep him awake." He motioned his head toward Sherlock. "Concussion. It could be bad if he stays asleep." The vehicle slowed down even more as a second one came into view.

"Sherlock, if you don't stay awake I will be forced to use methods you won't like. Unless the rumors about you and Captain Watson are true, then maybe you would." Irene smirked as she twisted in her seat to look back at the consulting detective.

Irene's words barely registered. Sherlock groaned in pain as he shifted slightly. "Not sleeping," he growled out. Wait…had she said what he thought she said? He opened his eyes to look at her. "Rumors? What rumors?" He asked as he narrowed them in thought.

The soldier driving the jeep smirked and accelerated again, dust flying behind them. "Rumors?" He smirked softly. "I have heard the ones about Captain Watson. But Mister Holmes here?" Jamie almost didn't believe it.

The sleeping pill had worked quickly but not for very long. John groaned and shifted his head, swallowing hard. Pain. Everything was foggy and the voices around him were nothing more than loud, slurred noises. His left hand clutched desperately at Sherlock's knee, his grip weak.

The smirk on Irene's face got bigger. "People talk you know that," she told the consulting detective with a shrug. "It is just a shame John got to you before I did. You and I could have had a lot of fun Sherlock."

Sherlock shook his head and regretted it, as it caused the throbbing in his head to intensify. He glanced down to John as he felt the other man stir. "Easy my dear doctor." He continued to run his fingers through the matted, unkempt hair.

Hands. Low voice. "Sherlock," he mumbled. One eye cracked open and he managed a weak smile. Alive. Awake. With him. His eyes closed again and he took a shaky breath. The voices were still hard to decipher but the constant breathing from his fiancé kept him calm.

Jamie slowed down, looking around for a moment. "Captain Watson is apparently a bit loud," he whispered to Irene with a smirk, a hand moving to squeeze her knee.

Irene glanced to the hand on her knee with a quirked eyebrow. "Careful. I don't play nice." She smirked a bit. "Besides, you aren't really my type."

Sherlock smirked faintly at Irene's words, but he kept his gaze focused on John. He moved one hand from his fiancé's head and began to soothingly run his fingers down the army doctor's back. The other hand, continued to massage John's head.

Jamie narrowed his eyes and snapped his hand back on the wheel, speeding up a bit. "Right," he muttered. Of course not. Just some weird bloke who liked dudes was her type.

The touch on his back soothed John instantly. He exhaled slowly and shifted, whimpering. Pain. Everywhere. "How are you? Irene giving you trouble?" He pressed his nose against Sherlock's stomach.

Irene couldn't help but laugh. "I usually prefer woman. So, it isn't anything against you."

Sherlock ignored the conversation up front. He smirked at John's words. "I am fine my dear doctor. She is behaving herself, for now." He continued his gentle and light scratches on his fiancé's head and back.

Now he was just confused. Sherlock Holmes was most definitely a man and Irene Adler was most definitely flirting with him. "Oh. But, he's..."

John turned his head to look up at his fiancé, blinking slowly. "Hi." It was all he could seem to say, looking at him and knowing they had made it. His head moved slightly in Sherlock's lap and he hesitated in moving forward to press another kiss against Sherlock's stomach. "Alive."

Irene laughed again. "Don't strain yourself trying to understand. It's…complicated…" She shrugged. She didn't have to justify herself to him or anyone else for that matter.

"Try not to move so much. Yes, we both made it. We both will." Sherlock leaned down a placed a kiss on John's head. He grimaced as he sat back up. Christ, his chest was killing him. Probably a couple cracked ribs. If that was the case, he was lucky one hadn't punctured his lungs. What he wouldn't do for some heroine right now to make the pain go away. Or any drug for that matter. No. He couldn't think like that. But that small taste had left him itching for more.

Jamie glanced at the two men in the back seat of the jeep. "Why? Because he is engaged?" He smirked and turned his gaze toward Irene.

John turned his head as the vehicle came to a slow stop, a small transport vehicle waiting a young brunette jumped from the vehicle, motioning to the back.

"Medical care in the back for our blood loss victim," she stated as Jamie slid from the front. He glanced at Sherlock and John before smiling. "Want me to carry him, Sir? Miss Adler can help you."

Irene shook her head. "It was complicated before that." Without explaining further she got out of the jeep.

Sherlock wanted to argue he could carry John but he could barely support himself. He let the woman take his fiancé from his lap. He took the offered support from Irene without complaint this time. He was far too tired to stand around argue.

John manged a bit of a blush as the woman carried him but stopped caring the moment he was placed on a dingy mattress and she instantly hooked him up to an I-V. "This should help keep you awake and lucid. Once we cross the border you will go to a hospital." She jumped out of the back and glanced at Sherlock. "We have an I-V for you as well, Sir."

With the help of Irene, Sherlock climbed into the back of the transport vehicle. "I'm fine. Take care of John first." He slumped his body at an angle and struggled to stay awake. "Do you have any pain killers? I could really use some right about now."

Irene eyed Sherlock thoughtfully, but kept her thoughts to herself as she took her seat. The desert wasn't exactly her favorite place and she couldn't wait to get out of it. Of course, almost losing your head in it, tended to sway your opinion about such places.

Andrea looked at Sherlock and shook her head. "No, Sir, we do not. The I-V will help your pain and Captain Watson already has his." She climbed into the back of the vehicle and grabbed Sherlock's hand, efficiently inserting the I-V before she jumped out, the car started and lurched into motion.

John moved his left hand and instantly grabbed Sherlock's hand tightly. Almost out. They were close and would be in a hospital soon. His gaze shifted to Irene. "Thank you."

But drugs. He needed them. Sherlock was so intent on his thoughts, he didn't even notice that an I-V had been placed in his arm. He sighed, trying to think about anything other than his sudden need to have something soothing in his system.

Irene shrugged at John. "I didn't do it for you." She glanced over to Sherlock, smiled and gave him a reassuring pat on his leg a little higher up than appropriate.

John tensed instantly, narrowing his eyes. "Don't touch him," he snapped. Irene wanted Sherlock, that much was obvious, and every time she touched him John felt his gut twist. The jealousy that rushed through his body was stronger than he had ever felt. What was worse was that Sherlock hadn't bothered to stop her.

Hearing John snap at Irene brought him back to the present. Sherlock blinked and frowned at the hand on his leg. He shifted away from Irene, the hand falling off of him. He zoned out again, the drug withdrawal itching at him. He squirmed involuntarily, as he once more tried to focus on something else.

Irene glanced back to John with a smirk and then moved closer to Sherlock. She put her hands on his back and began to massage lightly.

Instead of his body relaxing it tensed. "Stop it!" Sherlock turned sharply to glare at Irene.

A sideways smirk etched her lips. Irene raised her hands in supplication and then scooted away from the consulting detective, hands resting in her lap.

John wanted to jump up and throttle Irene. Show her what would happen if she kept touching his fiancé. "Sherlock," he studied his companion intently, taking in his tense body. "It's getting to you, isn't it?" He knew he didn't have to be specific, that Sherlock would know what he was talking about.

Sherlock slumped away from Irene with a sigh. She had been pushing him damn near the whole rescue and he had finally snapped. At the question, he couldn't bring himself to meet John's gaze. The answer was obvious though, when he absently scratched at the inside of his elbow where he had been injected.

That made him nervous. The itch, the fact that he wasn't meeting his gaze. John swallowed nervously and sat up, a hand nudging at Sherlock's chin to lift his head. "You've got me," he whispered. With that he leaned forward and gently met Sherlock's lips and his tongue ran gently along his fiancé's bottom lip.

"I'm fine," Sherlock muttered the lie and moved away from John. He didn't want comfort right now. He just wanted to be left alone. The drug withdrawal was making him irritable. He sighed once more, slumped further down, and buried himself in the corner of the transport vehicle. Without even realizing it, every now and then he would scratch at his elbow. His eyes were closed but he wasn't sleeping or even resting, he was just trying to think about something…anything else.

Not good. Very not good. The only thing on his mind was comforting Sherlock. Without a care, John pulled the I-V across the small back of the vehicle and straddled his fiancé's thighs. "Look at me," he whispered, ignoring the pain in his right shoulder as he lifted both of his hands to frame Sherlock's face. "Wedding. Honeymoon," he said softly, pressing his forehead against Sherlock's. "I know you are fine, just focus on something good. Happy. Scotland. When I proposed." He slowly closed his eyes.

Sherlock finally let John comfort him, arms wrapping around his fiancé in gentle a hug. "I didn't want it…I didn't…and now it's all I want. All I can think about. I don't even care if it is heroine again, I just need something." He admitted, hating how desperate and thready his voice sounded. He shivered, despite the sweat on his forehead.

"It's fine. I understand. Don't be afraid to tell me, alright Sherlock?" John sounded desperate now, too. Nervous because Sherlock was trying, really trying. The vehicle slowed down slightly as they went over a large bump and John took the moment to place a kiss on Sherlock's nose. "Do you want my I-V?" He knew there was some sort of pain medication in him because the pain was bearable. If it would help Sherlock then he would gladly give it up. He ran his hand through the thick hair on Sherlock's forehead, before hugging him, hiding him from the view of Irene in a protective move.

The answer was yes but Sherlock shook his head. "No…God no…I will be fine. I can do this." He hugged John a little closer, despite the pain it caused him. Maybe if he made his body suffer in other ways, he wouldn't think about drugs so much. He shifted so his head came to rest on his fiancé's good shoulder. It agitated the gash on his forehead but he didn't mind the throbbing pain right now. He needed it. It was better than wanting drugs.

Irene rolled her eyes at John and turned away from both men, muttering something about get a room.

"I am right here," John muttered, studying his fiancé intently. The pain going through his body was excruciating but he didn't care, didn't tell Sherlock, because he needed this. "Do you remember when we were watching crap telly and eating take out two nights before I left?" The hand in Sherlock's hair continued the soothing movements. Distract Sherlock. He had done it for John. "And you ate calamari and then I kissed you but I had to stop because of the taste?" Even John managed a soft chuckle at the story.

Sherlock lifted his head, trying to concentrate on what John was saying but it was difficult. He almost took back his initial request and wanted to take up his fiancé's offer on the I-V but he stubbornly kept his mouth closed. If he gave in, it would just make quitting drugs all over again all the more difficult. He needed to stop it now, before it got any worse.

Not good enough. What else could he do? Sex wasn't an option for either of them, considering the fact that they were both extremely injured and Irene was a few feet away from them. "Sherlock, just talk to me. Talk. It doesn't have to make sense." He gently met the man's lips, forcing his tongue into Sherlock's mouth. As he pulled away he sucked in a deep breath. "Keeping it all pent up isn't going to help, okay? Talk."

Sherlock didn't pull away from the kiss this time, and returned it lazily. Talk? He closed his eyes, trying to think. Between the pain in his body and the constant itching need for drugs it was difficult to focus. He leaned his forehead back on John's good shoulder. After a moment of contemplative silence he finally spoke. "I want the drugs but it would just make things worse in the long run. If I went down that road again, I don't know if I would be able to come back. Don't want to worry you…"

John closed his eyes and rested his head against Sherlock's. "I'm here with you. I won't let you do that, alright? That is what I am here for." He pulled Sherlock closer as the vehicle finally started slowing down, coming to a sudden stop and sending John into Sherlock a bit harder than he intended. "Sorry," he gritted out in pain. "Sorry," he repeated before pulling away slightly.

"Egypt!" Called Andrea as she climbed into the back, freezing for a moment as she noticed John and Sherlock. "We have medical staff here to get you. You are all being taken to a hospital in Cairo for a few days." He moved to help John, who slowly moved off of Sherlock and managed to half-walk off the vehicle with the help of the other soldier.

"Its fine," Sherlock murmured. He stumbled after John, noticing Irene didn't offer to help him this time. He smirked faintly, as The Woman jumped out of the vehicle. He climbed out last, finding the I-V he was hooked up to more of a hindrance at this point, he yanked out the needle.

"This is where I leave you boys. I have my own people I am meeting up with a little further down. If you ever change your mind about Captain Watson, you know how to get a hold of me." Irene smiled at Sherlock, one hand running along his shoulder, up his neck and then under his chin.

Sherlock pulled away from her touch. He uttered a 'thank you' since he figured she deserved that much and then hobbled after the two soldiers.

John forced Andrea to stop, breathing heavy as he turned to look at Sherlock. The moment he did all he saw was Irene touching him. The blood in his veins turned to ice and he turned around, stumbling into the helicopter with a growl. "Wait for him, I guess." He let a medic force him to lay down and the other one offered his hand out to Sherlock.

Sherlock ignored the offered hand and clambered into the helicopter on his own. He kept brushing people off trying to help him. "I'm fine," he said multiple times. He felt like shit and probably looked like it, but John was in worse shape. His fiancé had lost a lot of blood. While the I-V offered fluids and nutrition, the other man's blood still needed replenished. When he knew John would be okay, maybe then he would let these people look at him.

It was childish but John was upset, jealous. He didn't know what else to do. The medic worked on him almost instantly, starting John's first blood transfusion as the helicopter took off. "Help him," John muttered without looking at his fiancé. "He needs it too."

The second medic came forward and sat down next to Sherlock. "Sir, there is more than one of us. I am going to do a quick test to make sure there is no severe brain damage." He knelt in front of Sherlock with his torch and turned it on and off several times before writing something down. "Sir, can you tell me your name?"

Sherlock sighed in resignation. John was upset with him? He frowned at the thought and it took a moment to realize the medic was speaking to him. "This is stupid," he mumbled. "I am fine. My name is Sherlock Holmes." Drugs sounded like a wonderful idea once more. It would let him escape from this place.

The medic smiled tightly and stood slowly. "Concussion. Labored breathing. Irritable." He turned to the other medic. "And the other one?"

John shifted slightly as the second medic picked up his dog tags. "Watson, John. 39. Church of England." The tags dropped and John turned to glance at Sherlock. "Hold my hand," he whispered as he wiggled his fingers. He might be upset at his fiancé but they both needed support right now.

"Congratulations. You figured out the obvious," Sherlock was going to continue to grumble when John's hand caught his attention. He grabbed it, interlocking their fingers and gave a gentle squeeze. He wasn't sure why his fiancé was upset. Just moments ago in the transport vehicle the army doctor had been all over him. He figured he probably would have been able to figure it out if his brain wasn't so muddled and he wasn't going through drug withdrawal.

"You are fine," John tried to shout over the sound of the helicopter. He was trying desperately to keep Sherlock distracted. And himself. He kept his gaze locked on his fiancé before the medic caught his attention.

"Sir, you are scheduled for immediate surgery on your shoulder. We are putting you under now." And with that a needle was stuck in the I-V as the helicopter landed. John was out, his hand limp in Sherlock's, as the second medic approached Sherlock.

"Room is set up. You will need stitches, Sir, and some rest. Captain Watson will be in your room in a few hours while you are under examination for your concussion." He offered his hand to Sherlock with a smile, turning slightly as John was wheeled into the hospital.

Sherlock let John's hand slip out of his when they began to take the army doctor off the helicopter. He ignored the hand offered to him, struggling to his feet and stumbled into the hospital. Once he found his hospital room he collapsed onto the bed, grateful to be off his feet. He was tired, dehydrated, and a number of other things he was sure but couldn't seem to think of them of the moment. He just wanted to sleep, or at least have some strong drugs.

A young nurse came in and smiled, studying Sherlock for a moment before glancing down at a clipboard in her hands. "Alright, Sherlock." She moved toward the bed and hooked him up to in I-V without trouble. "Dehydrated, for one. A concussion, and we are fairly sure you have at least one cracked rib." She turned to leave the room. "Light pain medication and something that will keep you hydrated, Sir." She left.

Did these nurses get paid to tell patients obvious things? Sherlock didn't reply or respond in any way to the nurse. He still hated hospitals. He finally shifted once she left and stared at the I-V hooked up to him. Pain medication sounded really good right about now, even if it was a light dosage. Maybe he would be okay since it wasn't strong. Sleep sounded nice, except with a concussion you weren't supposed to within a twenty-four hour time frame. There was too much else to think about anyway. He wanted to be awake when John came back.

It was a few hours before John was wheeled back in, a new bandaged over his right shoulder. More bandages spanned his chest, disappearing under the blanket that was placed at the bottom of his sternum. "There we go," the doctor smiled at Sherlock before leaving the room.

Sherlock spent the time staring at the ceiling but when he heard his fiancé being wheeled in, he shifted it to the new bed with army doctor in it. The other man was probably still out, due to the surgery and probably wouldn't be awake for awhile. He glanced at the monitors hooked up to John next, to assure himself that his fiancé would be fine.