Author's Note:
Should have known drama would happen eventually. This chapter would be cute if it wasn't so sad.
John was watching his husband think everything through when he jolted forward into Sherlock, falling back on to the deck with a groan. "Ah, fuck." He sat up slowly, blinking several times before he looked at his husband. He had slammed his head. "Oi, Sherlock, you alright?" He stumbled to his feet and glanced over the edge before approaching his husband. "Shit. Shit." He licked his lips. "Sherlock? Are you okay?"
A trickle of blood blurred his vision a bit but Sherlock wiped it away quickly. "I am fine," he muttered. He probably had a concussion. His eyes had become a little more sensitive to the light, probably because they had dilated. So as not to worry John, he didn't turn to look at his husband. He wiped more blood from his eyes, as he tried to focus.
John noticed the blood almost instantly and turned his husband toward him. "C'mere." He yanked his shirt over his head with ease and rolled it up, placing it on the cut above his husband's eyebrow. "Right." He took a deep breath and studied Sherlock's eyes for a long moment. "Okay, you have done something to your head." His free hand ran gently down the side of his husband's face. "We need to get this thing off this sandbar," he muttered, lifting Sherlock's hand to hold the shirt as he moved to look over the side. The yacht was massive and he wasn't sure jumping in and pushing it back would work. Might as well try. He pulled his jeans down and kept his boxers on, looking at his husband. "Can you put it in reverse? I am going to try and push it. We might be able to move it, yeah?"
Sherlock was struggling to think straight and for a moment he just stared at John uncomprehendingly. Reverse. He could do that, right? He shifted his gaze down to the control panel. He was still holding the shirt in place and it seemed the only thing he was capable at the moment. He closed his eyes briefly and then shook his head. No, he couldn't sleep right now. He finally shifted the yacht into reverse.
John watched Sherlock for a moment and jumped over the edge into the water. He could barely touch the sandbar where he had landed and decided to swim forward. Near the front he could touch and he looked up. "Give it some gas!" He shouted up, pressing his hands against the front and using all of the power he had into forcing his body against the massive boat. He felt it budge slightly. "Sherlock! Gas!"
Sherlock's response time was getting worse and John shouting at him took a long moment to register. Gas? His free hand rubbed at his head. Concentrate. Focus. His husband needed him to do something. It seemed to be urgent. The words finally clicked in his unusually slow working mind. He gave the yacht gas, hopefully that had been what John had wanted. It was only the solution he could come up with. He was getting tired but he couldn't sleep right now. Someone needed to get them to the beach house and his husband didn't know how to sail.
The yacht shot backward and John fell forward into the water, resurfacing with a cough. Thank God it had at least stopped. He swam around the back and hoisted himself up the latter, climbing on to the deck. "Right, c'mere." He killed the engine and grabbed Sherlock's hand. This situation was something he could handle, something he was used to... though, admittedly, not on this level. This was small compared to what he was trained to do. He squatted and picked his husband up in his arms, carrying him below deck with ease. "Lay here, don't move. Don't sleep." He put Sherlock on the bed, propping him against the small headboard before dashing back up the stairs. He dropped the anchor, made sure they weren't going to move, and moved back below deck. "Okay. Concussion. You took a hit." He moved into the small bathroom and grabbed a wash cloth, wetting it down and moving to sit beside his husband. "Here." He pulled the shirt away and replaced it with the wet cloth, cleaning up the blood with ease.
When had he gotten below deck? Sherlock didn't remember moving. Had John said something about not sleeping? But the bed was comfortable and he was having trouble keeping his eye open. He hissed when he felt the wet cloth against his head. Well, that certainly gave him a jolt. He squinted up at his husband and slurred out a barely intelligible word. "…'mfine…"
"Right. You are fine." John couldn't help but smirk slightly, shifting to sit behind his husband so he could rest on his chest. His boxers were soaked, so was he, and the sheets had massive wet spots. "What is your name?" He asked softly, placing a kiss on his husband's ear. Now all he had to do was keep Sherlock awake and talking. And answer questions in which he would probably get snappy.
Sherlock shivered a bit from the contact against John's wet body. "You cold," he complained like a child. Ordinarily a question would make him grumpy but he took time to think about it seriously. He knew this one. Name. His name. "Sherlock Holmes." He tried to tilt his head up to grin up at the man above him, like a child who had just answered a hard math question, but after moving so far he became dizzy and he dropped it back down.
"Good," John whispered with a bit of a smile. "Good job." He took a deep breath and pressed his nose against Sherlock's ear. "Where are we?" He asked softly as his free hand moved to rest at the center of his husband's stomach to hold him against John's body the best he could. This wasn't good. At this point they were going to be stuck out here for a while. At least they had brought some extra food.
"Big boat!" Sherlock replied excitedly. He knew that one and he didn't even have to think about it. He was getting better at this question game. He decided he liked it. Apparently the blow to the head had not only given him a concussion but it had shifted his personality somehow. He was still tired. "Sleep now?" He asked with a whine.
"Shit." John whispered, glancing around the small bedroom of the yacht. There had to be a phone somewhere. "Good," he whispered to Sherlock before shaking his. "But no sleep. You need to stay awake, okay? What is your brother's name?" He asked, relaxing marginally when he spotted a satellite phone a few feet from their position on the bed. Now all he had to figure out was who, exactly, to call with their problem.
"Want to sleep." Sherlock pouted for a moment before confusion crossed his features. Brother? Did he have a brother? Oh. Maybe this was one of those trick questions. No. Wait. He did have a brother. Always a smug bastard. He was quiet for awhile as he concentrated furiously. "Mycroft?" He giggled afterward. That was a silly name.
"Yep, Mycroft." John moved his hand across Sherlock's stomach and wrapped it gently around Sherlock's side. This was definitely not good. Something more than a concussion had happened. Then again, they had jolted to a stop and Sherlock had slammed his head pretty hard. "What is your husband's name?" He asked with a small sigh. All he could do now was ask questions, see how much he remember and hopefully find out what happened.
Married? Okay, that was a trick question. "I'm not married silly. Girls are yucky." Sherlock giggled some more. "When I grow up, I am going to be pirate. It is why I ran away on this big boat. To get away…" He whispered the last part as he trailed off. He curled into small ball and pressed into John for some comfort.
"Fuck." John let his head fall back for a moment and gently shook his husband. "No, Sherlock, don't sleep." He brought a leg up to push Sherlock's legs away from his chest and yanked him back up to sit down. "You can't sleep." He closed his eyes for a long moment. Nancy. He had to call Nancy. He glanced at the phone and stretched, reaching out to grab it before noticing a paper taped to the inside. Perfect. He hit the first speed-dial button and pressed the phone against his ear, pinching Sherlock's side with a slight grimace. He had to keep him awake.
"Not sleeping!" Sherlock shouted and sat up quickly, a wave of dizziness hitting him. "Whoa…" He blinked as his world spun. "Just wanted a hug…" He pouted, his lower lip quivering. He turned his attention to John. He frowned a bit. He didn't recognize the man on the bed with him. The other man seemed familiar but he couldn't place a name with the face.
Nancy frowned as she looked at her caller ID. A call from the yacht phone? Why in heaven's name would Sherlock be calling her on his honeymoon? It must be important. She answered the call. "Hello? Sherlock honey, is everything okay?"
"Sherlock, calm down," John said softly before sighing in relief. "Oh, thank God, Nancy." He swallowed hard and covered the receiver with his hand. "Sherlock, just lay down. Like you were." He uncovered the receiver with a sigh. "Nancy, i-it's John. We were out on the yacht and... fuck, Nancy." He ran a hand down his face. "We hit a sandbar and Sherlock hit his head really hard on the wheel. I think... we have got a serious problem. What do I do?" He asked desperately.
Sherlock stuck his tongue out a John, crossed his arms and turned away to pout in silence. Adults were so boring. They never knew how to have any fun.
"My baby boy! Is he okay?" Nancy took a deep breath. She needed to calm down. "Did Sherlock use the GPS on the way out? If he did, you can use that to back track. Wait, John…do you even know how to sail at all?"
"Sherlock thinks," John paused. God, this was going to sound ridiculous. "Sherlock thinks he is a little boy again. Six, I am assuming, because earlier he told me he was going to grow up and be a pirate." He reached a hand out and gently shoved his husband's shoulder, shaking his head. "I don't know how to sail, no idea at all where the GPS is. I mean, we have got food for another two days, I think, but I need to get Sherlock to hospital or something. He has got more than a concussion."
"Mum?" Mycroft entered the room, his eyebrows furrowed. He had been upstairs rocking Amy to sleep when he noticed the caller ID on a phone upstairs. "Is everything alright?"
Sherlock twisted away from John's hand. "Leave me alone!" He scrambled off the bed and was about to run away, when his world spun again. He leaned against the wall for support, so he wouldn't fall down.
Nancy furrowed her brows as she digested what John said. She held up a finger to her oldest son to silence him. "John, by the helm there will be a radio. It should already be set on the emergency frequency, see if you can get a hold of anyone. If you are lucky, there will be a ship nearby to answer your distress call." She looked back to Mycroft, worry evident in her eyes.
"Right, Nancy, hold on." John set the phone down and stood up slowly. "Sherlock, back to bed. C'mon." He gently took his husband's hand and embraced him in a weak hug. He walked with Sherlock in his arms back to the phone, picking it up. "Okay, I need to run upstairs, Nancy." He looked at Sherlock for a moment. "Sherlock, want to talk to Mummy? Nancy, I am going to have you talk to him, keep him distracted, alright? I will be right back." He handed the phone gently to his husband, placed a kiss on his forehead, and darted upstairs.
Mycroft looked down at Amy, who twisted in his arms with a small noise of delight. "Mum?" He moved forward and sat next to her, shifting Amy into one arm and wrapping the other one around Nancy. "Are they alright?"
"Don't wanna!" Sherlock struggled against John but settled when he heard his mother mentioned. Mummy? He picked up the phone and stared at it in wonder. "Mummy! I am on a bit boat! A really big boat!"
Nancy felt her heart sink when she heard her youngest son speak. It was disconcerting to say the least. "Yes, I know sweetie. Try to be good for John. I have heard you yelling in the background." What was else should she say to him? She picked up a pen and scribbled a note to Mycroft explaining the situation.
John found the radio almost instantly, picking it up with a small sigh. "SOS. This is the yacht Holme-y." He felt like an idiot. "Emergency care needed as soon as possible. Adult male, thirty-six, head injury with possible memory loss or change. Medical knowledge on board but no medical supplies. GPS on, don't know exact coordinates but should be located with other GPS devices. I repeat, SOS, emergency care needed." He slammed the radio down and twisted on his feet, running back below deck. Good, still on the phone. He took it gently from Sherlock's hands. "Nancy, just sent out an SOS," he paused. "What do I do? I am scared," he admitted softly.
Mycroft read the note slowly and stood up, looking down at Amy as he grabbed his mobile from the front pocket of his trousers. He made a call as he left the room.
Sherlock rambled about random things to his mother excitedly. "Hey!" He reached to grab the phone back. "Humph. Rude." He turned away from John to pout, arms crossed over his chest again.
Nancy sighed in relief when she heard John's voice. She wasn't sure how much longer she could have listened to Sherlock going on like that. It was heart breaking. "Everything will be fine. Mycroft just made a phone call. Help should be there soon sweetie. No worries. I will stay on the phone with you, if you would like."
"Sherlock, sit on the bed," John begged in a soft tone, closing his eyes for a long moment. "Nancy, thank you." He licked his lips and managed a nervous, stressful laugh. "I am so sorry. I just... you were the first person I thought of when I saw the phone." He sighed and sat on the mattress, looking up at his husband. "I just don't know what to do."
Mycroft returned to the room with a happily squealing Amy, looking at his Mum with a tight smile. "Five minutes and a rescue boat should be there," he said softly, his gaze traveling to the happy child in his arms.
"You can't tell me what to do!" Sherlock yelled obstinately, but he stayed on the bed anyway. Mainly because it made him dizzy if he moved too much and not out of compliance.
"You are fine dear." Nancy looked up to her oldest son when he came back into the room. She gave him a smile, pleased with him. "Mycroft says help should be there in five minutes. Everything will work out. You will see."
"We'll probably be home after this. I don't think we can really celebrate our honeymoon with Sherlock coming off of massive head trauma," John replied with the best smile he could, even though Nancy couldn't see it. He had to stay positive or he would end up failing his husband. "I am so sorry, Nancy." He repeated as he buried his face in his free hand. "I shouldn't have been distracting him. This is my fault. We were talking about sha-" he cleared his throat. "I shouldn't have distracted him." He finished quickly.
"Oh John…" Nancy trailed off. Nothing seemed to go right for these boys. "You should try to stay, or at least talk to Sherlock about. You know, when he is…him again." She cleared her throat. "Don't blame yourself. Sherlock should have been paying attention. It was reckless of him not to. He is just like his father, I swear."
John tugged his bottom lip in his mouth. Oh, Nancy. A beacon of light. "Maybe. I think he hates me now, to be honest." He laughed softly and sat up straight when he heard the sound of another boat and a siren. "Nancy, got to go. The emergency boat is here. Thank you, Mum. Love you." He shoved the phone back on the receiver and darted up the stairs to meet a paramedic who had already climbed on to the yacht. "Downstairs," he muttered.
The young man moved down the stairs behind John and crouched in front of Sherlock with a smile. "Hiya, Sherlock," he said brightly, smiling. "How are you today?" He asked as he put a blood pressure cuff on the man's arm.
Nancy sighed as she hung up the phone. Everything would be all right. It had to be. She needed to find something to preoccupy her mind so she wouldn't be sick with worry.
"Pirates have boarded!" Sherlock shrieked. "Get off our boat!" He squirmed against the cuff on his arm. "Git off me!" He reached over to claw at John's hand, hoping the other man would help him fight off the bandit who was after him.
John moved instantly to sit behind Sherlock, grabbing his free hand. "Hey, shh." He placed a soft kissed behind Sherlock's ear. "Calm down, Sherlock. They aren't pirates, they are here to help us," he whispered. "Sorry," he said with a weak smile.
"Not a problem." The young man stood up and inspected Sherlock's forehead for a moment before motioning to the other paramedic. "Head trauma. Get a room set up, MRI. Priority. Called in by Mycroft." He smiled as the other turned and headed up the stairs, talking into a radio. "Right, Sherlock, we have got to get you to safety before the real pirates show up. Do you want to come upstairs with me?"
Sherlock calmed down, linking his arm around John's. His free hand came up to his mouth and he began sucking on his thumb nervously. Mycroft? That was his brother. How did they know his older sibling? He looked up at the other man with wide eyes. "Can he come?" He asked around his thumb, as he tugged at the hand he held. He felt safer with John around and didn't want to go anywhere without him.
The paramedic smiled and nodded. "Of course, Sherlock." He looked at John, his smile still there. "Want to carry him upstairs?"
John nodded and placed a quick kiss on Sherlock's temple. "Right, Sherlock." He moved to stand in front of his husband. "We are going to go upstairs and I know how dizzy you are so I am going to carry you, okay?" He picked his husband up easily, cradling Sherlock in his arms as he went up the stairs and stepped easily on to the rescue boat. "How are you feeling?" He asked with a soft smile.
Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's neck. "Getting sleepy again," he admitted. He wanted to stay up and see all the new exciting things that were going on. "Don't want to sleep. Want to stay awake with the adults. Don't make me go to bed." He whined, as he began pulling at John's shirt desperately.
"You don't have to go to bed, Sherlock." John smiled down at him warmly. "Stay awake and you will get some waffles and syrup. Promise." He looked up at the paramedic as he pushed a gurney forward. "Lay down for me and be good, alright?" He laid his husband down with a weak smile, running a hand through his hair.
"We are going to get him to the hospital right away. They're going to take care of him from there." The young man smiled and gently took Sherlock's hand. John took the other and held on to him tight as the boat started. "We have people on the way to take your yacht back to the boat house," he told John softly.
"No! No bed! You lied!" Sherlock sniffled, and shoved his thumb back in his mouth. He glared at John and then turned away. He grumbled some more but laid down finally. "Not sleeping!" He protested loudly. But he was so tired. Maybe a nap would make him feel better. No. He wasn't going to let John trick him into sleeping.
"Just laying down," John said with a small frown. "I didn't say you had to sleep, did I? Just relax, Sherlock." He squeezed his husband's hand and closed his eyes for a long moment. He couldn't handle this. This wasn't his husband. "Please, Sherlock, don't do this," he whispered as he dropped his head against his husband's arm.
"We should be there fairly soon, Dr. Watson," the young man said with a bit of a frown himself. "I will come and get you when we have arrived."
Sherlock frowned, his thumb falling out his mouth. He turned to look at John, studying him with an intense gaze. "Don't be sad. I'm sorry." He dropped his gaze. "Please don't be mad. I'll be good. You aren't going to make me go home are you? I don't want to go home…" He trailed off as he shoved his thumb back in his mouth. Instead of sucking on it though, he began biting on it nervously.
What scared him most was this might have been Sherlock's childhood, might have been things he was really afraid of. Going home, being with his family. It twisted his gut. "No, you are fine. You didn't do anything wrong." He lifted his head and managed to smile, running a hand through Sherlock's hair again. "You are fine," he whispered as he took a deep breath. "Oi, don't suck on your thumb." He managed to laugh, pulling it from his husband's mouth.
Sherlock nodded but when John pulled his thumb out his mouth he visibly flinched. "Sorry," he mumbled. His hands dropped into his lap and he began fidgeting with them. He didn't like feeling scared, but he didn't have his teddy bear to protect him right now. He crawled closer to John and curled into the other man's chest tightly.
John closed his eyes for a long moment and embraced his husband. "You are fine. Bad habit, that's all." He smiled and ran his hand soothingly up and down Sherlock's back. The boat slowed down and the paramedic came back into view with a soft smile. "How about we go get you those waffles and syrup?" He whispered into Sherlock's hair with a weak smile as he slowly picked him up and carried him off the boat, following the paramedics with ease.
Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's neck again. "Don't wanna eat," Sherlock muttered into John's shoulder. It was getting harder to stay awake now. He nuzzled into John's neck, letting his eyes slip closed finally. "Gonna be good and nap now," he said sleepily as the grip around the neck weakened.
They were close enough to the hospital that John figured Sherlock could sleep for a bit. People inside would know what to do better than him. When the entered he was surrounded by nurses and a doctor who told him where to take his husband and he listened, moving into a room where nurses instantly started to wake Sherlock up as gently as they could.
"Sherlock," one of the women smiled softly at him and shook his arm. "Sherlock, honey, wake up. We need to ask you some questions." John sighed and fell into the chair beside Sherlock's bed, burying his face in his hands.