Like a Jurassic predator Sherlock's eyes snapped open and the first thing he noticed was that he was lying on his stomach in a patch of dew covered grass and he was naked. Confused Sherlock sat up and noticed John standing above him, also naked holding on to Hope's mane. Mary and Mycroft were the last to stand to their feet and Mary gasped when she realized she was naked and that Sherlock was openly staring at her breasts her stomach and all points below.
Mycroft walked over and smacked the back of Sherlock's head, "Sherlock, enough."
"Ouch, what was that for? After all everyone here has seen Mary naked but me and by the way I am also naked and you don't see me cringing like a virgin on her wedding night." Sherlock said as he rubbed the back of his neck. He then paraded in front of Mary standing in front of her in a challenging pose.
Mary sighed, "Sherlock, for God's sake cover yourself, you're going to scare the horse."
Sherlock's face flushed and he opened his mouth to say something, but then he felt John tugging at his hand, "Come over here with me, on the other side of Hope," John whispered softly and then as if he feared he had said too much, John bowed his head and retreated into his own type of mind palace.
Sherlock wanted to say, "Let me in," but instead he just walked over and stood on the other side of the horse waiting for Mycroft to say something.
Mycroft stood beside Mary and looked around him, "We are on the grounds of my estate and there is an uninhabited caretaker's cottage not too far from here. We should be able to rustle up some clothes, in the meantime let's hope we don't get caught."
Hope on hearing his name threw back his head and whinnied and everyone including John laughed.
A few hours later and they all sat in Mycroft's living room looking at each in silence. "It all seems like a dream," Mary said.
Mycroft nodded and looked over at Sherlock, but Sherlock didn't return his gaze for he was staring at John. John gazed out the window his eyes glassy, not taking in anything that was happening around him. "God," he looks like a concentration camp victim," Sherlock thought as he observed John's thin frame for his bones poked through the garments that Mycroft's domestic help and gathered together. They couldn't find anything to fit John and finally had to settle for some clothes from the housekeeper's teenage son.
When the housekeeper brought in a tray of food, Sherlock unsuccessfully tried to get John to eat and after a half hour of Sherlock tempting John with different morsels, they were both exhausted.
"Sherlock, I want to take a nap," John said, his voice heavy from fatigue.
After Sherlock settled John in he went downstairs and joined Mary and Mycroft on the couch and plopped down between them because he knew it would irritate Mycroft. "Sherlock," Mycroft said as he disengaged his arm from underneath his brother. "Now, that we are back home you are going to have to face the fact that John might have to be hospitalized, institutionalized or at the very least put on medication."
Sherlock angrily jumped up from the couch and shouted, "You want me to lock John up, drug him, maybe you want me to put him down, like Redbeard?"
Mycroft slammed his first down on the arm of the couch. "Oh, for God's sake Sherlock calm down. You've injected enough drugs into your own system; I see no reason why you should object to John receiving the drugs he might need."
Sherlock's lower lip stuck out slightly, "I just…just don't want his personally to be affected. I don't want him to change."
Mycroft looked sadly up at Sherlock and said, "He already has."
Sherlock looked pointedly at Mycroft for a few moments and then without a word left the room and made his way up to John's room, quietly creeping in. Sherlock watched John sleep for a few seconds and then climbed in bed beside him, ashamed that the thought of injecting a needle into his own vein and then John's aroused him to the point that his groin began to harden. John opened his eyes and drowsily smiled at Sherlock. "Sherlock, do you need help?" John asked as his expert hands immediately found their mark.
Sherlock gave in for a few moments, sighing in pleasure and then rolled away from John's grasp. "Not yet, John, not this way," Sherlock said as he sighed in resignation.
Sherlock turned to make his way to the cold, sterile bathroom when John called to him, "Sherlock, are you going to put me away?"
Sherlock didn't approach the bed but said, "John, I would never do such a thing, if you were to be locked up it would be over my dead or dying body, so never fear I am like a bad penny, I always turn up. John Hamish Watson as long as I live you will be safe, I promise."
John nodded and then dove under the covers leaving Sherlock to make his way to the bathroom to relieve himself. As Sherlock, completed his grim task with clumsy jerking motions, he was grateful that he was alone without the watchful eyes of the camels gloating over his distress. "Wretched, animals," Sherlock thought as he quickly released in his hands, his eyes tearing up from dissatisfaction and embarrassment.