Of course, progress has been made.
- SH
Suddenly, the noise from the other room stops. Stall him, John.Sherlock tries to defy logic, hoping it'll reach John's simple mind. Sherlock takes a picture of the screen and shoves his phone into his coat pocket. He quickly exits the room and enters the room across the hall from the office. "He's been in there for quite a while." Leighton says darkly. John doesn't respond but simply hopes that whatever Sherlock is really doing, gets done very soon.
Just as the two approach the hall, they hear faucet water running and Sherlock leaving the bathroom not long after. Leighton looks Sherlock up and down. John discreetly gives Leighton a dirty glare. Jealousy doesn't suit you, John. Sherlock observes with an impassive attitude. "Everything alright?" Leighton inquires with narrow eyes, tightly balled fists, and flexing muscles. "Yes," Was the only response Leighton received.
"You sure, seems like you were in a hurry to leave my office?" John peers over Leighton's broad shoulder to see. The door was cracked open and the bright light of a computer shun through. Dammit, Sherlock. John groans silently. Thirty excuses slammed to the forefront of Sherlock's mind before he could even finish. "You sound quite pissed for someone who has nothing to hide." Sherlock's indifferent tone made Mr. Wright turn a matte red from his neck all the way up to his shaved head. John's eyes run between Sherlock's still position and Leighton's boiling angry. There's no way to diffuse the tension, no way to stop the inevitable brawl. Son of a bitch. John's adrenaline begins to rush, his heart pumping into his ear drums and he coils into a defensive stance behind Leighton.
The moment happens all too fast as Leighton brings his arm to swing at Sherlock, barely missing detective. John brings the naval man into a guillotine head lock to which Leighton rams himself and John into the wall, knocking John down. The blows knocks the wind out of him, he lies there for a minute watching the scene unfold around him. Leighton picks up a lamp on the in table and breaks the glass bottom, so that it's sharp and rigid on the end. He thrusts it at Sherlock but misses as Sherlock strikes a remarkably strong blow to Leighton's stomach. Leighton stumbles but quickly recovers and runs toward Sherlock, slicing at his waist and he drops. Again he cuts Sherlock, on his arm this time.
Sherlock, help Sherlock, save Sherlock.Are John's only thought as he struggles to his feet and stands up straight. John stealthily gets behind Leighton and elbows his back. Leighton fumbles forward. "You navy men never did put in much work." John spits. John disagrees with this statement, all military men put in great effort, but he said it just to spite Leighton. And it works incredibly well as Leighton turns on John instead; screaming, "You bastard!" Sherlock's breathing labors, the wounds are pretty deep, and he lifts his head to see what's going on. In Sherlock's eyes the fight between the two men looks like something out of a Dragon Ball Z episode. Finally, Leighton thrashes John with the lamp in his firm grip. An ungodly stillness falls upon John. And everything runs black.
What in the hell is that beeping?John gripes. The high pitched beep continues and an add sound of a pump continue on in an annoying symphony. He stirs a little when a stabbing pain spreads through his stomach like hot liquid metal. John was conscious but unable to move because of the pain. 'You know my methods John. Deduce.' Sherlock's voice says in his mind. John stops moving. It smells like bleach and sanitizer. From what he can tell there are multiple people walking and talking. John rubs his fingertips and feels some sort of thick fabric. A hospital is his guess.
"He's on heavy pain killers, so he'll incoherent for a while. He's lucky to have you, you know, had he not gotten here within the next 5minutes he could have bled to death." Says a woman; her voice foreign to John. "Right, thank you." Ah, the replier's voice is all too recognizable and, if he could, John would smile. Sherlock. He walks mutely into the room. John forces his eyelids apart. Squinting at the florescent lights, he thinks, yeah it's a hospital. John blinks his blurry eyes. "Sherl-" John means to finish his name but for some reason fall short. He's on heavy pain killers. The sentence resonates with him. Sherlock turns to see John, glassy eyed and bumbling. "Thank god you're okay." Sherlock speaks, more to himself than John. "Sherlock, I'm thirst." Thirsty. John corrects himself mentally. He hated this, being conscious but sounding like a damn fool.
Sherlock reacted accordingly, striding over to the end of the bedding where a meal and drink was set for him, the nurses assumed that after six hours the man would be hungry, John would have never thought so stupidly.Once the icy water grazes John's lips, he guzzles it without hesitation. John's eyes feel strangely weighted suddenly. He's skimming the line between sleep and awareness. "John, I thought I lost you today." Sherlock's deep voice penetrates the impending slumber. John can't reply as he's trying to focus on staying awake. Keep talking Sherlock. John pleads.
"You're an idiot, who charges at a man hold a weapon for Crist's sake?" Sherlock huffs, staring at John lying in the bed with no intention of getting up to tell him to shut up and that he'll be fine. "You're alive, high on pills, but none the less alive. That's what's important at this moment." Sherlock, hesitantly, steps closer to his bed and carefully places a hand on top of John's. It's searing hot against John's skin.
"Remember that talk you said we had to finish?" Sherlock sniffs a little. Don't you dare lose hold of yourself. Sherlock sternly warns himself. "Well, I should finish what I was saying." John means to agree but it only translates into noises. Sherlock chuckles slightly then takes a deep breath. "I'd be lost without my blogger." Sherlock admits. John uses this as confirmation that the pills have kicked in unaware that's entirely what Sherlock meant to say. Sherlock gazed at John thoughtfully; John had always been handsome, charming, and his features quirkily glorious. Sherlock can't help but focus on John's lush pink mouth. Sherlock leans in so close to John that even the slightest movement from John and their lips would collide.
"I think I might love you." Sherlock whispers. More to himself than John.
Oh my, oh my! I was gonna wait but I couldn't help myself. I was so excited about what happens next a had to post it.
Hope you enjoyed it! Don't be afraid to comment! Love ya!
~ Danni