Sebastian prided himself on being very good at assessing his environment and noticing risks as soon as they arose. However, the three men who snuck up on him during patrol had come silent as fog. They'd seized him and dragged him outside, wrestling his gun away from him with reflexes that made Sebastian's head spin.
Not as hard as it spun when they beat him within an inch of his life and left him in the back courtyard, sticky with blood and wheezing in pain. With his unbroken hand, he'd dialed Jim and rasped out his message until he couldn't hold on anymore, giving in to unconsciousness.
John and Jim said nothing as they hurried down the hallway toward the back exit of the palace. Jim threw the door open and they rushed out, calling Sebastian's name.
John was the first to see him, crumpled on the ground in the darkness, near a rose bush. "Oh God—" John rushed over and dropped to his knees, taking Sebastian's vitals. "He needs a hospital, now."
Jim bent over on the other side of Sebastian, looking at him with unmasked concern, but his voice was cool. "He doesn't need a hospital, we have you. He just needs some patching-up." Jim swallowed down his worry. "I'll bring the car around."
John continued examining Sebastian as best as he could in the darkness, using his hands more than eyes to assess his broken hand, the two smashed ribs, and the fracture in his right arm. John was most concerned about Sebastian's breathing. It was shallow and ragged, and John couldn't be sure that Sebastian's broken ribs hadn't punctured any internal organs without an x-ray. "Wake up, Sebastian," he murmured. He pulled off his suit jacket and draped it over him for warmth, then looked behind him to make sure Jim wasn't around, bending to kiss Sebastian's forehead. "Sebastian, you are not allowed to die," John ordered quietly.
Sebastian made a very faint moan, but didn't open his eyes or move. Still, the small noise gave John a bit of hope. Jim parked the car in the alleyway, and together he and John lifted Sebastian into the back seat of the car. It was a long drive home. "Did you get an assessment of his injuries?" Jim asked as he drove.
"I'll need to start working on him immediately when we get back—he's got several broken bones and I'm fairly sure his whip wounds have all opened up again." Sebastian's back was soaked in blood, and the bleeding wasn't slowing down. "He's lost a lot of blood. Do you know his blood type? Could we get some bags over?"
"A positive." Jim handed John his phone. "Text Ralph, and the bags'll be there before we even get back."
John shot a text to Ralph as Jim pushed harder on the gas, rushing home. Once there, Jim and John hauled the barely-conscious Sebastian inside and shoved everything off the kitchen counter to lay him on top. Jim rushed to get the blood bags that Ralph had slipped through the mail slot and the med kit with the tubes and needles.
John got the blood flowing into Sebastian, then started setting bones, hating doing it blind. From what he could tell, they were all clean breaks, but he had no way of being sure. Sebastian's breathing had evened out, with made him feel a bit better about the situation.
Jim hovered around him, watching as John restitched the deeper cuts on Sebastian's back and put ice packs on the swollen places, for once not barking commands at John, just letting him work. John was grateful for the undivided concentration he was allowed.
Sebastian's ruined tuxedo lay crumpled and bloody on the floor, and the kitchen towels hastily put down on the counter were already soaked through with blood. The new blood was helping, however. Color was beginning to come back into his cheeks, and an hour later, Sebastian croaked out, his eyes still closed, "Johhnn…Johnn, I need you…"
John swallowed and looked over at Jim, who had stopped his frozen pacing to stare at Sebastian. "Good—this is good, he knows he needs a doctor," John said quickly, acting like it was totally normal. "May I talk to him, master?"
Jim gave a curt nod, glaring over at John, then stepped in to listen.
"I...I'm going to use his name, master. It's more familiar than 'sir.'" He leaned back over Sebastian, willing him to wake up, and said softly, "Sebastian? ...Sebastian, I'm here—you're doctor's here...Jim's here...wake up, come on." John patted his cheek softly. He had a glass of water ready for him as well as a couple strong painkillers. "Come on, Sebastian—wake up." John normally would let the patient rest, but since they weren't at a hospital, Sebastian would have to tell him if something hurt that he hadn't noticed. John prayed to God that there wasn't any internal bleeding.
"Mmmmmphhh—" Sebastian's brows furrowed together, his face pained. He slowly and blearily opened his eyes. "Wha happened?" he asked.
Jim and John let out a sigh of relief in tandem. Jim shoved John out of the way so he could be next to him. John stumbled a bit and shoulders drooped, but he watched over Jim's shoulder, wishing he could hold Sebastian and kiss him and make sure he was okay. ...But that was Jim's place.
"Sebby? Seb? You fucking bastard. Are you okay?" Jim asked, searching his face. He really did care for Sebastian, even if it was hard to tell sometimes. "You got attacked by some of Contino's cronies at the gala."
"Unghhh, ohh yeah..." Sebastian said, raising up his unbroken hand and touching Jim's arm. "You okay, boss?" he mumbled.
"I'm fine. Where does it hurt?" he asked. "List them for John, then we'll give you some pain medication."
"My head...and my hand, I can't move it—" Sebastian held up his broken hand, which John had already done his best to reset and had bandaged up tightly. "And my legs..." As it turned out, there were very few places on Sebastian's body that didn't hurt. He coughed and fire shot through his ribs. His back was searing again as well.
Once he'd listed off everything, John assessed the med kit. "I'll need some more painkillers. Are there any in the toilet upstairs?"
Jim nodded, and John headed up. The gun he'd taken at the gala was still tucked into the back of his trousers underneath his coat, which he'd slipped back on once they'd gotten Sebastian home. In any other situation, Jim would have remembered and quickly removed it, but his concern for Sebastian had trumped any other thoughts. Further proof that sentiment was a dangerous emotion, Sherlock would have said. John pulled the gun from his trousers once he'd locked the toilet door, opening the cartridge to find one bullet left inside. Better than nothing. He reloaded it, then wrapped it tightly in a Ziplock bag before he slipped it into the back of the toilet. Once it was well hidden, he grabbed the extra painkillers and headed downstairs.
As soon as he turned into the kitchen, Jim ordered, "We'll carry him upstairs. He's to recover in your room, John. You will sleep on my floor until he is well again. Making sure Sebastian is taken care of is now your number one priority. All other chores are secondary. You may talk to him only if it's for medical purposes. You will do your very best to help him heal, do you understand?" He looked down at John severely. "If I find you shirking in any way, I won't hesitate to put you in a world of pain far worse than his."
There wasn't a chance John would shirk when it came to Sebastian. He wouldn't leave his side if he could avoid it. Still, Jim's obvious concern proved to him more than ever that Jim really did love Sebastian. It was shocking, really, to see him display care for anyone other than himself, especially considering all the horrific things John had seen Jim do the Sebastian.
"We shouldn't carry him—his legs aren't broken, so he should walk, otherwise we risk unsetting some of the other bones. We'll just have to help him, master," John said.
Jim nodded, for once not berating John for contradicting him. Together they helped Sebastian sit up, draping his arms over each of their shoulders, and helped him to John's bedroom. John put down a towel to soak up any blood, and they helped lay Sebastian down on it. Sebastian winced and moaned and closed his eyes, accepting the water John held up for him to drink. "How long'm I going to take to heal?" he croaked.
John pursed his lips and looked at Jim then back to Sebastian. 'You need at least a week of bed rest...but your bones will take several months...your fingers will heal up faster—I'd say eight weeks, maybe? You're...you're going to have to take a work hiatus."
Sebastian gave a long, low groan. "Fffuckkk..."he said. He looked up at Jim. "Immm uselesss to you now, boss," he said. "Are you going to kill me? Put me down like a lame horse? Pull the trigger and just—" He clenched his eyes shut and pushed his head into the pillow. He wouldn't be able to meet with Sherlock now. He wouldn't be able to keep Jim disinterested in John. Stuck in bed for a week? He'd been seriously injured before, but this was the worst timing.
John flexed his jaw, and so did Jim. "Don't be ridiculous. John—how long until he can start working again?"
"Well, not until he's off the strong pain meds. At least a month before anything too strenuous."
Jim nodded. "Fine. O'Seanassy and Burke can cover your assignments until then," Jim said. "Hardly the end of the world. Stop being so overdramatic, Sebby. Now rest up. Don't hesitate to tell John anything you need. He's here to mend you in any way he can." He leaned down and kissed Sebastian's shoulder, glaring sideways at John. "And that's the only reason he's here," he added meaningfully. He straightened. "Well. I need to change. Rest, Sebastian."
John looked at Sebastian before he followed Jim out of the room. At least two months of sleeping on Jim's floor...that would be miserable. "Master?" he asked when they were back in Jim's room. "I think I should spend the first few nights, with Sebastian. I want to be sure that he gets what he needs immediately." He hoped Jim wouldn't find his suggestion too forward, but he hoped Jim's concern for Sebastian would trump any suspicions of John's motives.
Jim narrowed his eyes. "Yes, all right. Just remember, John, your room has excellent audio and visual surveillance systems in place. I'll be reviewing the footage very carefully."
"Of course, master," John mumbled before he turned and headed back into his own room. John had made sure that Sebastian was covered with all of his blankets, propping him up with pillows here or there to put him in the most comfortable position possible. John gave him a small, sympathetic, concerned smile, wanting him to be okay. He silently went to his wardrobe and began to change into his pyjamas.
Mrs. Buttons slunk in the room, purring, croaked a small meow, and rubbed against John's ankles. She jumped onto John's bed and settled down in the crook of Sebastian's shoulder, purring in his ear. He closed his eyes and smiled a bit, stretching the painful cut on his jaw. "Thank you, Johnn," he said sleepily.
John's smile faltered a bit, wishing he could say something in response, then turned back to pull on the rest of his clothes. He then crossed and shut the door most of the way before turning out the lights and curling up on the floor, blanketless, pillowless, but not Sebastianless, which was just fine with him.
The next few nights were much the same, and Sebastian began a slow, painful recovery, John doing everything he could to make things easier. On the fourth night, Jim ordered John back to his room and had him sleep on the floor, rewarding him with a pillow and a blanket for his tireless work and obedience. Mrs. Buttons migrated into Jim's room and would curl up next to John on the floor to sleep at nights.
Even though John hated moving back into Jim's room, he would rather take the hard floor than to share a bed with Jim, and he was grateful for Mrs. Buttons' warmth and affection.
A few weeks in, Sebastian was still sleeping in John's room, and Jim was getting antsy. After checking on Sebastian, he stalked back into the bedroom. "What the fuck is taking so long? Have you been holding back on your treatments, you little cocksucker?" he growled at John, who was changing for bed.
"Wha—? No, master!" John tugged up his pyjama bottoms the rest of the way. "Sebastian's injuries were severe—the body takes time to heal!"
"Too much time, if you ask me!" Jim said, reaching over and grabbing a fistful of John's hair, bending his head backwards. "I thought you were a good doctor!"
"I—I'm sorry!" John choked out, "There's nothing more I can do!"
"This is what you wanted, isn't it? You wanted to punish me, to punish Sebastian, didn't you? You sneaky little rat," he spat out.
"No!" John's heart pounded in his chest. How could he convince Jim that he was telling the truth? "It's nothing like that!" John hands went up to Jim's hand to try and pull it from his hair.
"Do you still love him?" Jim said quietly, twisting his hand more painfully in John's hair. "Do you?"
John hesitated. If he said "yes", then it would be clear that he was trying help Sebastian, but Jim would also punish him. If he said no, then Jim would think that John was doing this just to spite both of them and punish him anyway. John didn't know what to say, and could only look at Jim fearfully.
"SPIT IT OUT!" Jim roared suddenly, releasing John's hair to backhand him forcefully. "What's the matter, John, cat got your tongue? God knows you've been spending enough time with the furball! Well? Do you love him or not? Jesus, it's not a hard question!" he laughed, half-crazed.
"Yes," John choked out, tears stinging his eyes as he stumbled backwards and held a hand to his cheek. If he was to lose either way, he might as well tell the truth.