Author's Note:
Only a few more chapters after this. Audrey and I are just about finished with this story and will begin working on the next one very soon now I think. We haven't decided on a title yet. Thank you so much to all the reviewers!
John forced himself to open his eyes, calming himself instantly as he exhaled loudly. Not too bad. He had been able to wake himself up and miss the most of it. He glanced at the clock. Only an hour had passed. "Don't make me give you another hand job," he joked softly. Sherlock was tense and he could feel it. He turned his head to gaze at his fiancé, a half-smile on his lips.
"I'm fine," Sherlock lied. He finally let his body squirm into a different position. "You didn't sleep long," he commented, hoping to deflect the conversation from himself to John. He shifted again, seemingly unable to get comfortable. He did his best to ignore the agonizingly itch for more drugs. He had hoped the low dose of medication would help but it felt like it had just made things worse.
"Not tired," John shot back smoothly. He was exhausted and wanted to sleep for three days but he couldn't sleep for very long or everything would come rushing back. "Sherlock, calm down." The constant shifting was making him worry. "Do you want to request more drugs?"
"No!" Sherlock was getting irritated again. The pain wasn't helping his now agitated state. He got up off the bed, although he really didn't have a destination in mind. Would cigarettes help at all? Probably not. He slumped into a nearby chair, shifting in it constantly but never satisfied for very long. He was trying his best to ignore the withdrawal symptoms and process but it wasn't working out so well.
John cringed and watched his fiancé nervously. Withdrawal. Clear as day. Sherlock didn't know what to do with himself. "Sorry," he muttered softly as he looked toward the door and away from Sherlock. He had tried to keep him happy and distracted and it clearly hadn't worked. "Just trying to help. Should probably pull that empty I-V out of your arm," he snapped childishly.
Sherlock hadn't had to deal with anyone when this had happened last time. He refused to see anyone. Had locked himself away in his bedroom. There was no escaping some place where John wouldn't have to see him pathetic and weak. At his fiancé's last comment, he yanked out the I-V roughly. A little too roughly, because even with the applied pressure the bleeding wouldn't stop. Probably tore a vein. Bloody fantastic. He grumbled his discontent, still shifting restlessly in the chair and now ignoring his bleeding arm.
"Bloody wonderful, you idiot." John sat up slowly, pulling the pads to the heart monitor from his chest. He slid off the bed slowly, bracing himself against he mattress for a long moment before moving forward, dropping to his knees, and pulling Sherlock's arm so his hand rested against the bandages on John's chest. He blindly grabbed at the table and managed to come back with a gauze pad and some medical tape. "I need you to calm down," John whispered, the touches to Sherlock's arm light as he placed the gauze over the bleeding area and slowly taped it. "You are a genius. Think about something else, Sherlock."
Sherlock tried to reel away, but sitting in a chair made that difficult. He succeeded in only in almost tipping the chair and himself over. With another sigh he managed to still his body. He didn't look at John, instead staring at the floor as if it held something of interest. He didn't want his fiance seeing him like this and thought about yelling but he wanted to fight even less. With an agitated grumble he began shifting once more.
"Sit. Still," John stated coldly, lifting his gaze to Sherlock's face as he placed a hand lightly on Sherlock's knee. "Stop moving. I know it is bad. I have seen it before, okay? It isn't fun. But you can't keep sitting here not talking to me. If there is something wrong you need to tell me and if you don't want to tell me then you tell your doctor." He finished caring for Sherlock's arm as a nurse came in.
"Uh, Captain Watson, Sir," she hesitated slightly, biting her bottom lip.
"Yes, I know. I will return to my bed," John stated as he stood slowly, swaying on his feet before managing to center himself and move slowly back to his bed. "Mister Holmes may need some medical attention. I think he is going through drug withdrawals."
Sherlock managed to still himself once more, yet remained stubbornly quiet. Until he heard what John told the nurse. He lifted his head to glare at the army doctor. He then glanced to the nurse, managing a small smile. "I'm fine. Just a bit worn out but getting restless staying in a bed." He let the smile grow fractionally.
The nurse hesitated before glancing between the two men. "Yes. Alright. Captain Watson, we have been requested to up your pain medication. Your doctor is worried that you aren't getting enough sleep." She smiled warmly and moved to his I-V, injecting something into it as he slowly reattached the pads on his chest for the heart monitor.
"Thank you." John smiled warmly at the nurse as she left, relaxing back in his bed as the heart monitor started up again. He pursed his lips and kept his gaze locked forward calmly. The man on the other side of the room was getting on his nerves, driving him up a wall, and he wanted to leave the room to get away from him but had to settle for the tense silence instead.
So much for not fighting. Even though no words were being exchanged, it was clear John was upset. Sherlock supposed he couldn't blame his fiancé. He was being rather impossible at the moment. He had dealt with the withdrawal process on his own before and it was the only way he knew how to deal with it now. He thought about leaving the room to get away from the oppressive silence but he didn't want to leave John alone. He was uncertain if another attempt would be made to kidnap the army doctor. With things going at the current rate, it was impossible to know for sure. So he sat quietly, still fidgeting now and then.
Why was it that every time they were together they were fighting now? It wasn't like he had planned it and neither did Sherlock. And at this point it wasn't like Sherlock was doing anything on purpose, either. He was going through withdrawals and was naturally irritable. John was just sick of him acting like that, sick of him pushing him away. "Do you want me to help you or not?" He asked hesitantly, turning his gaze toward Sherlock. "They can help you here if you want."
Sherlock lifted his gaze to John when the other man spoke. "No. I will be fine. Just need to wait it out. It can be a bit brutal but it is more efficient. I have done it before, I can do it again." He gave a slight shrug. "Besides, I'm not the only one being stubborn right now. I know a certain army doctor who is refusing to sleep when it is obvious they need it." He smirked faintly.
John tilted his head and returned the smirk, taking a deep breath. "Don't want to sleep," he admitted softly, pulling his gaze away from Sherlock. Even drugged he would have nightmares and he couldn't do that anymore. If being stubborn and fighting the drugs kept him away from that he was more than willing to do it. "You aren't sleeping, either." He let his eyes close and managed to relax a small bit. "Would rather talk to you."
"Yeah, but I already slept for several hours." Sherlock sat up and leaned forward a bit, his fingers coming to rest under his chin. "You don't want to have nightmares. You blame yourself for the death of those three soldiers and even my father. The person responsible is the one who pulled the trigger, and that wasn't you. And as far as the Old Man goes, he died because the idiot didn't like to lose. Guess I get that from him." He smirked again
It had been months since Sherlock had deduced him and John swallowed hard. "I could have kept my mouth shut. If I had stayed quiet they would still be alive. But I was selfish and thinking of you and Amy, not about them," his voice was shaking now and his breathing was shallow. "And I went back because your Dad asked me to. I could have said no. He would still be alive and we wouldn't be here. Sherlock, this is all my fault."
"John, you did what you had to do to survive. Even if that wasn't true then you would probably all be dead and where would that leave Amy?" He trailed off for a moment, "…Me? If Dad hadn't gotten you to do it, he just would have gotten someone else. And the end result probably would have been the same. You can't blame yourself for surviving when the others didn't." His fiancé was clearly having survivor's guilt, which was common in cases like these. He supposed time was the only thing that would help mend it, as the army doctor finally came to terms with everything that had happened.
"What's that saying? 'War is hell.' While we are at it, here's another one. 'Shit happens.' You can either spend the rest of your life blaming yourself, or you can forgive yourself and be thankful you made it out alive. That you get to see Amy grow up. That you are getting married. And whatever the hell else happens along the way." Sherlock realized it was bit harsh but sometimes being slapped with reality had a tendency to jolt people out of situations like these. Or at least, that was what basic psychology dictated.
John physically flinched at Sherlock's words, narrowing his eyes slightly as he decided he was finally read for some sleep. Sherlock was right, of course. He got to watch Amy grow up, experience her life. Something Sarah would never have the chance to do. And in a few weeks he would be married to Sherlock. Counting himself lucky was something he had done several times after ending a deployment but now he wanted to go back, to prove himself. That was something he would never tell his fiancé. "Fine," he whispered, turning his head away and letting the drugs pull him under.
Sherlock sighed. At one point in time, he wouldn't have thought twice about the insensitive words he had just spoken but seeing John's reaction made him wonder if he had done the right thing. He slumped back into his chair, grimacing in pain. Sitting up like that had been difficult, but he suffered through it. It had helped him not think about drugs and how delightful another hit would be. His chest and stomach felt like they were on fire, but that was largely due to the fact that he wasn't on any pain medication. His wrist wasn't doing much better, but the soreness there was mild compared to everywhere else.
John managed to sleep for an hour and a half, not moving once as his chest moved with his rhythmic and shallow breathing. His body tensed suddenly, the heart monitor slowly increasing as the Army doctor scrunched his face. His eyes shot open and he kept his eyes locked on the ceiling, taking loud breaths through his nose. At this point he wasn't sure if he ever wanted to sleep again because he always woke up in a cold sweat. He was at least thankful that he had learned how to wake up calmly, not shoot out of bed like some madman. After a long moment he turned his head to Sherlock, his gut twisting as he studied his fiancé. "Let them take care of you," he stated to take the attention away from himself. "If I'm getting medical care then you should be, too."
Movement from John's bed drew his attention to it. Sherlock arched a brow. "There isn't a lot that can be done for me right now, other than be given pain medication. Which I don't want, well I do but that's the problem." He gave a faint smirk as he stood from the chair. "I'll come back and lay down with you, how about that?" He moved to the bed and made sure to get in on the side where his fiancé hadn't just had surgery. He laid down next to the army doctor, resting his head on John's good shoulder once more.
The moment Sherlock snuggled against him, John relaxed. It was a mental belief, really, but having Sherlock with him made him feel safe and protected. He felt like even the nightmares couldn't get to him. "They could give you a cast for your wrist," he said into his fiancé's hair. "You would look utterly ridiculous but it would help." His arm wrapped around Sherlock's shoulders, his fingers tracing shapes lightly across the other man's skin.
"Think it slipped out of place when I was fighting Levanda. I didn't really notice until we got here at the hospital. It should be okay, if I don't use it a lot." Sherlock shrugged as best he could, considering his current position. "I don't want to have to wear a cast while getting married or on the honeymoon." He smirked. "Then I wouldn't be able to have as much fun."
John chuckled softly and glanced at the man pressed against his side. "Less fun for you, more control for me." He placed a soft kiss into Sherlock hair and pulled him closer with his arm. "It isn't going to heal properly, Sherlock. I'm a doctor, remember? I know things like that."
"How am I supposed to teach you how to dance if I am wearing a cast? It isn't broken, just not properly placed. Maybe I can just have someone snap it back in place. It will hurt but it can't be any worse than how the rest of my body is feeling right now." Sherlock snuggled closer to John. His good hand reached up and began running through his fiancé's hair lightly.
"You will never properly teach me how to dance," John said with a smirk, closing his eyes at the feeling of Sherlock's fingers in his hair. "I still haven't heard that recording. I bet it is beautiful." He tapped a finger lightly on the side of Sherlock's jaw so he could meet the other man's lips. If he was going to be thankful to be alive then he was going to take advantage of it. Which meant kissing Sherlock.
Sherlock tilted his head up and instantly met John's lips. "Love you," he murmured behind the kiss. His eyes closed, savoring the moment and taste. He continued the kiss, deepening it and began to explore his fiancé's mouth eagerly. His finger tips trailed slowly and lightly down the army doctor's head, along his jaw and then neck before traveling back up.
They hadn't kissed like this in a long time and John couldn't help the small moan that pushed into Sherlock's mouth. His fiancé's touch was enough to make his hips lift lightly off the bed involuntarily. "Love you too," he muttered against Sherlock's lip, opening his eyes to study the consulting detective for a moment before placing a soft peck on his lips. "Need to stop. Not helping." He smiled warmly and placed another quick kiss on Sherlock's lips.
Sherlock smirked. "I would apologize but I'm not actually sorry." The smirk got bigger. He let his head return to John's shoulder. While cuddling and spending time with his fiance was nice, he couldn't wait to get back to London.
"I know you aren't," John commented softly, letting his eyes close. He felt safe with Sherlock pressed against him. Like nothing could hurt him. "I'm going to fall asleep, okay? 'M tired. Don't leave." He took the deepest breath his chest bandages would allow and his heart monitor calmed, John's face relaxing.
Sherlock merely nodded. Good. John needed to rest. Hopefully his fiancé's much needed slumber would go uninterrupted. He remained quiet and still even, the worst of the drug withdrawal seemingly gone now. All that was really left was that nagging feeling to escape. Just concentrate on something else. He watched John sleep, hoping the other man would stay at peace long enough to get much needed rest. He lifted his head to whisper in his fiancé's ear. "No nightmares my dear doctor. Dream of me. Or little Sandi. Of getting married. Happy things only." It had been almost a year since Sherlock had tried talking to John while he slept. Hopefully it would bring about the desired result.
John stirred slightly at the sound of Sherlock's deep voice, his eyes squeezing shut tighter before he relaxed again. After nearly three hours of sleep he slowly opened his eyes, glancing around for a moment before letting out a soft groan. Pain. Lots if pain. Right now his right shoulder felt worse than his left one ever had. As he shifted to alleviate some pain he suddenly remembered his fiancé snuggled up against him. "How long did I sleep?" John asked through a yawn.
Sherlock looked up to John when he woke up with a smile. "A few hours." He gave a quick kiss on his fiancé's cheek. "Besides the pain, how are you feeling my dear doctor?" He reached up a hand to once more run his finger through John's hair.
"Rested," John mumbled sleepily. "Like I could sleep for another two days." He grinned sheepishly at his fiancé. It was clear Sherlock's hadn't slept at all while he had. "Emotionally stable?" He questioned it only because he knew it wouldn't last long. "I miss Amy," he admitted softly. The thought of his daughter made him smile and caused his cheeks to flush with excitement.
"You will see her soon. I imagine she misses you too, being stuck with Mycroft and Lestrade." Sherlock looked up to John with a grin. "God, I can't wait to get back to London." He paused a moment in thought. "John, how do you want to raise little Sandi? With everything that has had happened...Christ, I never want her to leave the flat without supervision..."
Raise her? Like a normal child, he figured. Beat boys off with a stick, always be over protective. "She will be allowed to leave the flat," he told Sherlock steadily. "I am not going to keep her locked up. I know you don't want her to but she is going to be normal." He smiled softly and placed a soft kiss on Sherlock's head. "Once she is older she won't want us hanging around all the time."
Sherlock merely nodded in agreement, because who was he to argue with the biological father? He remained quiet, his head snuggling a bit more into John's shoulder. His free hand found his fiancé's, fingers interlocking.
"You want to keep her in the flat as long as you can, don't you?" John looked down at Sherlock and squeezed his hand, an amused smirk on his face. "I understand. I really do. After everything that has happened I am nervous too. I just... I want her to experience things. See life. The only thing she isn't allowed to do is enlist in the military," he stated surely.
"Mycroft's convinced already the she would make a good Government employee." Sherlock gave a sideways smirk. "Hopefully she won't be one of those kids who do the opposite of our wishes out of sheer stubbornness. Not that I can imagine our daughter ever picking up that trait with this family." Another smirk, as he looked back up to John.
John playfully hit Sherlock's shoulder. "She can be whatever she wants. Except a soldier. Period. If she wants to work for Uncle Mycroft... she can. I guess." He looked down at his fiancé and studied his face. "I hope she doesn't end up like me. There are so many mistakes I have made."
"You say it like that and she will end up running away and enlisting just to spite you." Sherlock said lightly. "Frankly I hope she chooses something normal. Like a teacher or librarian or something else boring. I suppose there is no such thing as a safe career…" He frowned at the last words said by his fiancé, and thought for a moment before speaking. "John, everyone makes mistakes. Even me. It is how you live and learn. And hopefully don't make the same mistake twice as you go."
"I think she might make a wonderful teacher. Maybe she could be a... movie star?" John grinned. He wanted to believe that his little girl could do anything. Except didn't every dad think that? "I just want her to be happy, I guess." He glanced down at his fiancé and smiled. "I just don't want her to go through what I went through. Or you. I want her life to be perfect, y'know?"
"A movie star? God I hope not," Sherlock grumbled, not entirely keen on that idea. "A perfect life? That does sound boring and also unrealistic. As much as I want to shield her from things, life is still going to happen…whether we like it or not." The realization made him frown because if he could, he would make sure nothing ever happened. But he supposed apart of living was dealing with good and bad. That all you can hope for is that there is more good than bad in life.
"I just... I want her to be responsible. Practice safe sex, not date horrible blokes, finish school and go to Uni." John started to run his fingernails lightly up and down Sherlock's spine. "I love her to death. I have never felt so protected of anybody," he paused. His fingernails starting to scratch harder, "Except you." What was even worse was that right now all he wanted to do was go home and shag Sherlock. He decided to keep that to himself.
Sherlock nodded in understanding. His body reacted to the scratching and began squirming into John's. God that felt good. His eyes closed in contentment, as he enjoyed the sensation on his back. He buried his head deeper into John's shoulder and resisted the urge to bite it. He settled for a growl of excitement.
John glanced down at Sherlock and smirked. "You can bite me, y'know," he whispered softy. He couldn't enjoy anything other than that in his current position and Sherlock's growl made him writhe slightly in the bed. Why in the world had he decided to not have sex until their wedding night? His hand moved into Sherlock's hair and gave it a rough tug before scratching down his back again.
"Wouldn't be able to stop there," Sherlock muttered into John's shoulder. It was true. Despite the pain and the itch for drugs, he was becoming rather aroused. His fiancé had that effect on him…a lot. He growled again, his squirming becoming more excited and erratic. Even if they hadn't agreed not to have sex until after getting married, it wouldn't be a wise course of action. John was hardly in any condition for such activities and neither was he, if he was being honest with himself. He strove for some kind control over his writhing body but lost.
"Bite me," John growled desperately, stopping his hand and digging his nails into one of Sherlock's shoulder blades. Oh, this wasn't a good idea. Not in the slightest, but his light scratches were doing more to Sherlock than he had intended. Feeling Sherlock press against him made him whimper in want. "Please. Just bite me."
Sherlock hesitated but when John requested it again, he bit into shoulder in compliance. He growled into it, clinging for a moment before releasing and began kissing and sucking roughly. His body ground into his fiancé's, desperate and in eager need. God, he wanted the army doctor badly right now. Screw the deal, he wanted to screw John. It was a terrible idea really. Neither were any shape but he just didn't care. His mind wasn't thinking clearly right now.
"Oh, God," John moaned as Sherlock's mouth attacked his shoulder. This had snowballed out of his control and the feel of Sherlock's erection pressing into his hip was blurring his judgment. It seemed like such a good idea now. All he could think about was Sherlock and how close he wanted to be to his fiancé. "Sherlock," he attempted to pull his arm from around Sherlock, wanting to touch himself, but whimpered when he couldn't.
John speaking, only encouraged Sherlock more. Before he even realized it or could even stop himself, he had straddled his fiancé. He bent his head down, first biting and sucking on his fiancé's neck and then up to the ear. "Want you," he whispered in between licking and sucking on the army doctor's lobe. His body continued to press and squirm into John's, causing him to whimper.
It had all been wonderful, he had been blind to their predicament, until Sherlock was above him. The tightness in John's chest was suddenly too much and his heart monitor picked up on the distress of John's body. He wasn't vocal about the pain, though. Instead he elected to nod in response to Sherlock, moving his free hand between them to palm at Sherlock's erection through his pants. "Please."
The heart monitor going off made Sherlock pause mid-kiss and thrust. Shit, he wanted to continue so badly. With a growl of frustration he rolled off, making sure to remain on the right side still. He kept his body pressed tightly to John's, though he managed now not to squirm. With his good hand he reached down to his fiancé's leg, fingers tracing along the inner thigh until they found purchase on the other man's cock. The other hand reached behind him blindly, seeking to unplug that damn beeping machine.
John arched into Sherlock's touch and yelled. He couldn't tell if it was from pleasure or pain but he didn't care. The heart monitor was off and Sherlock was touching him. His world was Sherlock's hand and the warmth of his fiancé's body next to him. "Fuck me," he whimpered, turning his head to sloppily meet Sherlock's lips.
That sounded like a wonderful idea except… "Don't have anything…" Sherlock muttered, as he returned the kiss. John was already in enough pain as it was and he didn't want to add to it. With limited options available, he began pumping the penis in his hand in a steady rhythm. His fiancé had done it for him earlier, the least he could do was return the favor.
It wasn't exactly what he had planned or wanted but he hadn't touched himself, or been touched, since they had agreed to wait. At this point the deal was ridiculous and all he wanted was for Sherlock to never stop. He kept his lips on Sherlock's to hide the soft whimpers and moans, praying nobody would hear them. "Yes, perfect." He pushed his hips up into Sherlock's hand with a sigh against his fiancé's lips. His body was tense and he could already tell he was close.
Sherlock smirked behind the kisses, his hand keeping the pace steady, getting a bit faster after each stroke. His body pressed and squirmed further into John, aching to be close to the other man's body. He nipped his fiancé's bottom lip with a small growl of excitement.
The moment John felt Sherlock pressing against him he came, a loud moan escaping his chest as he fell limp against the mattress. In the bliss he could completely ignore the pain of his body, instead attempting to grab Sherlock's erection so he could help his fiancé. His fingers dug into Sherlock's thigh on the first try and into his lower stomach on the second.
Intense pain racked Sherlock, as John's finger dug into where he had been kicked and punched in the stomach. His body tensed reflexively. He bit his bottom lip to prevent groaning in pain. His head dropped into his fiancé's shoulder so the other man couldn't see the grimace on his face. It would only make the army doctor feel bad. Although the moment had more or less ruined for him, he continued to snuggle into John's body.
"Sorry," John glanced down at Sherlock the best he could, still gulping in breaths. "Was trying to..." Another deep breath, "Wanted to..." He closed his eyes and exhaled loudly through his nose. While he had thoroughly enjoyed that, and was more relaxed than he had been since they arrived at the hospital, he had wanted to return the favor to Sherlock. "That was amazing," he finally muttered, blushing when he realized he made quite the mess across his chest bandages.
"Its fine," Sherlock mumbled into John's shoulder. Without the medication, the pain was more severe and lasted for some time. His body eventually relaxed, and he curled into his fiancé's body even more. He laid fairly still, except for the hand that had found the army doctor's hair once more and scratched lightly.
"We broke our deal," John said softly, smiling as he placed a soft kiss on the top of Sherlock's head. "Didn't mean to turn you on that much." He chuckled softly. He had just been scratching Sherlock's back and the next thing he knee Sherlock was straddling him. "I missed that," he added as an afterthought. Having Sherlock over him, giving him attention had reminded John what they had given up. "I want to get married the moment we get back."
"Sorry. Tried to tell you..." Sherlock finally lifted his head and smirked. "We can do that. I will need to get a hold of Mycroft so he and Mum can have it all set up when we get there." He placed a kiss on John's cheek before letting his head find his fiancé's shoulder once more.
"I just wanted it so bad," John stated with a small growl. "It seemed like a very good idea. It was, really. I liked it." He closed his eyes and promptly fell asleep.