This is my take on a alternate pub scene in HoB. As someone who has experienced panic attacks, Benedict's acting was brilliant here but I was rather disappointed by the script in terms of John's response. He is a doctor after all and with experience with panic disorders himself he should have responded a bit differently. Here's what that may have looked like.
I do not own any of these characters.
John walks into the warm pub and is glad for the immediate contrast to the cold darkness of the moor. He's accompanied Sherlock on plenty of strange cases before, but taking a field approach on a mutant, vicious hound? Not exactly his ideal night. Though he learned long ago not to question Sherlock's methods, taking a man with a clear disposition for panic to a spot known to trigger him did not seem like the best approach in his opinion.
John scans the pub before his eyes rest on the tall detective sitting in an oversized chair by the fire. He strides over to join him and sits in the chair opposite.
"Well then, that was certainly some moor." John can imagine why that place would cause haunting memories...it looked straight out of a horror film.
When John recieves no response he look over at Sherlock and is surprised by what he sees. The consulting detective is staring blankly into the fire, his fingers steepled in front of his face and a most disturbed expression on his face. His eyes are slightly red-rimmed and his breathing pattern has become shallow and erratic. John's eyebrows scrunch as he looks over his friend.
"Sherlock, you alright?"
No response, just rapid blinking from his flatmate.
John leans closer, lowering his voice and trying again with more insistance, "Sherlock--" he's cut off when Sherlock suddenly snaps his eyes up.
"Look at me John, I'm...afraid." He says the last word as if it's left a bad taste in his mouth. He slowly picks up a hand and John is surprised to see a slight tremor. Sherlock is looking at his hand with a note of curiosity.
"Yeah, alright. We've just been out in the dark for hours anyone would be."
"No." Sherlock continues to inspect his shaking hand, refusing eye contact.
"Hmm? What do you mean 'no'?"
"It's not the dark that's doing this. It's...I saw it, John. The hound."
John laughs lightly. Surely he couldn't be serious.
Sherlock's eyes snap back up to John's face. His lips are slightly downturned and John can see it's taking a lot for him to try and reign in his emotions. John's face turns serious as he catalogs Sherlock's state.
Shaking hands. Red-rimmed eyes. Irregular breathing pattern. Perspiration. Feeling afraid. John knew these signs well. Sherlock Holmes was on the verge of a panic attack. In that moment, Sherlock's eyes seem to plead John to help him. Suddenly John stands and looks around the pub. Too many people here, they needed to leave before he could attempt to help.
"Sherlock...why don't we go back to the room. It's late, you've been through enough tonight...come on."
Sherlock doesn't move from where he's sitting, his focus turning back to his shaking hands. Gently, John touches his shoulder and Sherlock inmediately jumps as if shocked.
"THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME, DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?" His breathing is heavy now and he looks around the pub with the eyes of a scared animal. They need to get out of here, now.
John steps closer and talks in a low voice, "Listen to me Sherlock, I can help you ok? But we're going to have to do this my way, and that means we leave. Now."
John slowly grabs Sherlock's wrist, this time with no reaction from the detective. He leads him out of the overcrowded pub and into the cool night air. He glances over and sees Sherlock blinking hard, clenching and unclenching his other fist. John guides them back to the motel and to their room before finally closing and locking the door behind them.
"John..." Sherlock leans against the bed before lowering himself to the floor. With his knees bent he lowers his head between them, hands pulling at his curly hair.
"You're alright Sherlock, it's just a panic attack." John lowers himself next to his friend and places a grounding hand on his knee.
Sherlock continues to shut his eyes tightly but moves his hands from his hair to his knees with one of them grasping John's hand.
"You need to slow your breathing Sherlock, or you're going to pass out." Sherlock nods slightly trying to focus on John's voice as he begins instructing him to breathe in and out.
John shifts himself so he's sitting in front of Sherlock, not letting go of his hand. He takes his hand and moves it to his own chest.
"Feel my heart? Focus on that. Good, keep breathing slowly." John notices Sherlock's breathing even and his face has less tension. "Open your eyes Sherlock, look at me."
Reluctantly, steel eyes meet blue and John can see the toll this case and the events of tonight are taking on Sherlock. His eyes are uncharacteristicly wet and he gives a shaky sigh as he breathes in.
"I'm sorry, I know...it's all just in my mind and I will figure this out but...Not being able to trust my own senses is not a pleasant experience."
John continues to make eye contact, "Sure, it's in your mind but that doesn't mean it shouldn't affect you. I have complete faith you will figure this out."
Sherlock lays his head back and shuts his eyes. The whole ordeal has left him exhausted. "Thank you, John...for staying."
"Don't mention it. That's what friends do."
"You called it a panic attack...you know this from personal experience." It wasn't a question but a statement.
"Yes, while in Afghanistan and after I had my fair share of panic attacks. I know how it feels which is why it's time for you to go to sleep, you must be exhausted."
Sherlock didn't even attempt to argue, for once in his life he truly was tired. John squeezes his hand before letting go and standing up. He fills a glass with water from the sink and hands it to Sherlock.
"Drink it please, it will help. Trust me."
"I always trust you John."
John nods. The detective was not overly sentimental so his rare omissions of gratitude were to be taken heavily.
As Sherlock drinks the water, John gathers his pajamas and hands them to him. "You'll feel better once you sleep. Tomorrow we can look at the case with a fresh mind."
Sherlock nods before heading to the bathroom to get changed. John changes into his pajamas as well and gets into bed leaving the lamp on so Sherlock can see.
In the bathroom Sherlock splashes water on his face. He looks at himself hard in the mirror. His eyes are still red and he looks shaken. He honestly didn't know what he would've done without John. Sighing, he returns to the room.
John sits up a bit and watched him as he crosses the room to his bed. "You feel alright now?" He looks at his friend, concern in his eyes even now.
Sherlock nods. John flicks off the light. He hears the detective rustling as he gets into bed and can sense the tense position he's laying in.
"I'll be right here. We're safe here Sherlock. Get some sleep."
"I'll try."
Within a few minutes John could here Sherlock's breathing shift and knew he had fallen asleep. This whole night had been a reminder that he hadn't had in a while: Sherlock truly was just the most human human being he knew.