Lessons in friendship 4 - Enduring care
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Chapter 2 - Trusting John
"Sherlock?… Do you know where you are?" John asked.
"Yeah… home."
What was happening?
He blinked and realised he was in his bed.
He had figured that out before already, hadn't he?
Before, he had been beaten… outside… by two men.
Memory slowly came back to him.
He had been on a case and followed the suspect, but someone had ambushed him in a dark alley. He had been thrashed.
When they had let him be, he had taken a cab home and John had opened the door, which was where his memory stopped.
"Relax… You're okay!… Easy!" John's soothing hand on his chest, guiding him down back into a supine position.
He was panting, another person bent over him.
Mrs Hudson…? What was she doing here?
"What's the problem?" she asked.
"M'udson, could you leave 's'lone?" Sherlock begged.
He could try to let John care for him, it would be hard, but he was not able to endure to have another witness to that.
"Why, dear? I want to help?" she sounded a bit disappointed to not be entrusted with this.
"Mrs Hudson, I don't think he is in his clear mind right now, and I also think he doesn't want to be seen like this. Do him the favour and please understand, it's not you he's sending away, he'd send anybody away. I'll call for you if you can help."
She turned away, gladly with only a worried expression on her face.
"You just relax there, mate. Let me handle everything for now… just let it happen," John smiled encouragingly and bared the detective's chest and belly with casual professionalism.
A heavy feeling weighted his body down, forced him to settle down, too.
He wanted John's trust and he had to work for it.
Bite the bullet -right now.
"I'm gonna touch you now, tell me if it gets too bad."
When John started to press and probe his belly with warm and firm hands he had to take some deep breaths to fight the urge to shove him away again and then wondered why he was feeling so stiff.
He sucked in air when John pressed a sore spot right on his ribs.
"Er… You have at least two fractured ribs. I'm pretty sure there's no internal bleeding, but I'll monitor you closely to be sure. I'm gonna put some ointment on your side, just go with it... You hurt yourself by being all tensed up, you know. Try to relax," John informed him.
Seconds later he felt a soft and cold pressure start just above his belly button. John's hands moved around and carefully applied whatever that stuff was.
It smelled like… painkillers or something.
The touch was unnerving but kind of hypnotising. Sherlock felt his body start to relax.
He let his eyes close and tried to sort his wobbly thoughts, but couldn't concentrate and felt himself drift towards sleep after a few moments.
He was only half-conscious when John reached his solar plexus and he tried to roll away from the touch when something in his mind exploded without any reason he could grasp.
He gasped in surprise.
"What is it?… Sherlock? Easy… Tell me what the problem is!" John sounded far away and Sherlock was not able to understand what he was talking about.
He tried to fight the darkness that threatened to drown him. Distantly, he felt the touch change and recognised it was on his brow now.
"There is… orange hot'ingling… solar plexus?" Sherlock managed to mumble.
"Sherlock? Could you explain that?" John sounded a bit alarmed.
"Need t'trust you… let you do…" Sherlock pressed out, trying to make the doctor understand.
"I'm gonna examine you some more now, lie still," John informed again.
Sherlock sucked in air once more when John pressed a sore spot near his stomach.
"You have some bruising over your stomach, any nausea?"
Sherlock managed to shake his head.
Was there?
He realised he had answered 'No' before even having listened to his body.
It was what he usually did, deny all perceptions his transport bombarded him with - because it was not relevant and because to bother other people with his body's needs or problems was rude. In addition, it was making himself assailable and appearing weak.
But this was John and he was not just asking to be polite, he needed to know. Also, he was not eager to listen to his body, expecting that in the moment he'd start to, he'd be hit by more pain.
Usually, he shoved this kind of input into the furthest away corner of his mind, repressing pain and discomfort the moment it occurred. He had been acquired to hide his transport's sensations, discomfort or ailments from a very young age.
And he was ashamed to talk about it.
"'bit," he corrected himself.
John raised an eyebrow.
"You were hit on the head, I need to clean and bandage it," John unpacked several items which he put on the chair next to him and started to clean the wound.
Sherlock endured it, not the pain but the touch. The fact he had given away control to someone else was maybe even harder to tolerate.
Enduring the touch wasn't as hard as he had expected. It had been some time ago, that he had learned that John's touch was not as dreadful as everybody else's. In fact, it was neutral.
Neutral was good, it wasn't straining.
Most of the time he was unnerved when somebody entered his personal space and his impulse to back off kicked in. This space he defined as his skin plus forty centimetres of air, sixty centimetres around his head. Lilac distaste bloomed when somebody moved anything into it without him wanting to, persons were the worst.
But with John it was different, right now the doctor had his hands on his face and he was leaning close to see better.
Sherlock would have preferred he'd keep a bit more distance because he could feel him breathing and that was just a bit too much input on his skin, but it was not negative, it was neutral.
Trust him, he wants to help… just let him do this.
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"Sherlock?… You're okay?" John stopped his movements and stared at Sherlock's closed eyes, the controlled breathing through his nose seemed off somehow.
The doctor was worried, he still wasn't sure treating Sherlock at home was a good idea. The detective was a mess.
It had taken him totally by surprise when he had opened the front door and Sherlock practically fell into the hallway. John barely managed to keep him from seriously hitting his head.
It had been some work to bring Sherlock up the stairs, only the help of Mrs Hudson made it possible. The detective was covered in bruises and there was at least one laceration that would need stitches. But Sherlock had been agitated and out of his mind in a way that it was impossible to treat him.
Accordingly, John had administered a sedative that should have taken effect by now.
He was worried because Sherlock wasn't himself.
Then he suddenly stopped resisting at all! Which was odd.
But he had explained, hadn't he?
As soon as he was fully aware he had hinted he wanted to let John help.
John had missed it before, but now he realised the connection to a conversation he had with Sherlock a few months earlier.* John had been annoyed when he had had a flashback and Sherlock kept bugging him about that.
He had tried to explain that trust was not a single sided thing, not only present on one side of a friendship, and he had said he needed Sherlock to trust him in return, otherwise his trust would probably retreat and never climb over a superficial level.
Was Sherlock really tolerating this because he wanted to show his trust?
The doctor raised an eyebrow.
Why-would-I-need-you-Sherlock opening up to him?… To present him with confidence?
"Sherlock?"
The detective was still way too tense and worked up, John wondered how often he had told him to relax already.
Must have been at least twenty times.
But Sherlock just didn't do it, or maybe he couldn't. Maybe his adrenaline was still pumping from the attack, though it should have stopped by now.
What else might be a stressor?
John decided he wanted to try to make Sherlock feel save and wondered how his flatmate defined that term or if he had ever felt like that. With his job he was expecting worst-case-scenarios at all times. A bit like John remembered from the war.
Always alert, never let your guard down.
Sherlock seemed to have internalised that principle to a degree that he could not switch it off any longer.
"'m fine," Sherlock mumbled.
"Okay, almost finished… I want to make sure you can rest comfortable," John went to get some stuff. Time for a psychological experiment that might have the side effect that Sherlock wouldn't move too much.
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Sherlock wondered what John had in mind now. He felt that his thoughts were getting slower by the minute.
He was obviously very tired… exhausted… and… drugged?!
It felt odd to give the ball to someone else.
Passiveness…
The concept made him slightly nervous.
Loss of control - like a shiny frozen lake in the dark, a dangerous and slippery area.
He knew he was a control freak. Passiveness meant: being bored fast. Being bored was dangerous. Always keep the mind busy.
John came back with two loosely rolled blankets and knelt on the right side of the bed.
"Just go with this, let me do the work."
He was held by his shoulder and his hip and carefully rolled half onto his side, something soft was pushed behind his back, on the whole length of his body. John's practised hands then turned him on his other side and the procedure repeated.
After he was rolled back into a supine position, his knees where lifted and a large cushion was placed under them.
Tight softness surrounded him on all sides now, as if he was in a large U-shaped pillow that was holding him.
It felt good. White… cleansed… cocooned.
"Whatare you doin'?" Sherlock felt himself start to drift.
John looked at him with a slightly fond expression.
"Sleep, Sherlock… This is meant to make you comfortable, to ease the pressure on your injuries."
His hands were lifted gently and positioned outstretched on the improvised padding, palm up but careful not to disturb the IV-port.
John stroked the inside of his right hand's palm with his own left thenar… with quite a bit of pressure.
He had never felt tended to like this before, also, he had expected it to feel different.
It was like a warm azure blue tingling, a positive feeling.
But he felt also dizzy, high… and... cared for.
This, he had never felt before.
It felt so… very safe.
He slipped into a guarded soft sleep.
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* See my story 'Lessons in Friendship 3 – Setback'
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A/N:
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