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Hurt/comfort is a fan fiction genre that involves the physical pain or emotional distress of one character, who is cared for by another character. The injury, sickness or other kind of hurt allows an exploration of the characters and their relationship.

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- Roll 1-10 at RNG for a scene, play it out and have fun!

1. INJURY. You've been injured. Broken bones or bleeding out or maybe just a tiny little papercut. The choice is yours.
2. SICKNESS. You're sick and laid up in bed, at home or in a hospital. The severity is up to you.
3. FEAR/ANXIETY. Something is happening and you're scared beyond belief.
4. LOSS OF SENSES. Sight, touch, taste, hearing, smell, etc. You've lost some important sense or ability and now you're left to deal with it.
5. DESPAIR. Nothing is good or right anymore and you can't shake the depression. Maybe that friend of yours can help though...
6. BREAKUP. You've been dumped. You need someone to comfort you, possibly by the one who dumped you.
7. MAKE UP. Fight or break up, it's time to makeup.
8. RESCUED. You've just been held captive and/or tortured for however long and finally, someone has come to the rescue.
9. BAD ROMANCE. Fight, cheated on, abused, whatever the case is, someone else can clearly see you need comfort from someone who isn't your terrible lover tonight.
10. LOSS. You've experience a loss of some kind and need help getting through it.
11. INSANITY. You're seeing things that aren't really there, hearing voices, or you're just convinced you're at your wit's end finally and you're going to crack. Maybe someone can give you a helping hand.
12. TIRED. You've had a heard life recently and you're just worn too thin to really care anymore. There's no fight left in you anymore. Can someone help change your mind?
13. ADDICTION. Drugs, alcohol, sex, gambling, or any other type of addiction has got you in its grasp. First time or relapse. Will someone be able to save you?
14. INSOMNIA. You can't sleep anymore, no matter how hard you try. Maybe someone can give you company.
15. NIGHTMARES. Or, on the other end of the spectrum, you can't sleep without gruesome, horrible nightmares. Either someone is stuck in your dream with you, witnessing it or they're just waking you up, soothing you out of it.
16. BLACKMAIL. You've been caught doing something you shouldn't and you were blackmailed because of it
17. SEPARATION. You're going to be separated for awhile or were separated for a long time. Either make up for lost time or try to spend every last moment together.
18. VIOLATED. You've been violated in some way. Can include sexual overtones or not. Can someone help you through it?
19. STRANDED. You've been stranded somewhere remote, with no help of anyone finding you for awhile. Can you survive this together?
20. SINS. You're feeling the weight of your sins and guilt clearer than ever. Can someone give you absolution or lessen the ache any?
21. SECRET. It's difficult having to keep that secret of yours, be it a relationship or something you just don't want to share with anybody else. Maybe it's okay to talk about it now though...
22. ADDITION. Babies should be joyous things unless you're in a situation where you know you won't be able to care for them. Either you've adopted or found out you're pregnant.

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Yes, yes. I've heard all that rubbish. What was it.. 22 grams? What that quack didn't account for is gas. When the body dies, it expels gas. You're a doctor Joan. You should know better.

[He's not going to have some cooky afterlife discussion with Joan just because she's had a near death experience.

Sherlock sighs and stands up, walking around to the window. Somewhere, anywhere. He doesn't want to keep sitting there when the conversation is taking this turn.]

Light and chemical exposure. Traces of one photograph bleeding into another. It's all explainable. I'm sorry, Joan. There's just no evidence of ghosts or God.

21 grams. And of course I know better, you dick. Just because I bring it up in conversation doesn't mean I believe it all blindly.

Just like lack of evidence then and now doesn't mean there won't be real evidence later.

[ She doesn't care what the subject is. She just doesn't want to shut her eyes again. Every time she closes them, she sees him. Of course she wants to distract herself. ]

[In forensic science, the absence of evidence doesn't mean the evidence of absence. Still, Sherlock can't put any bets on the table when it comes to pseudo-science. It's preposterous.]

I still don't know why you're bringing it up in the first place.

[This beats having a conversation about feelings, but not by much.]

I understand that being in a situation like this might make you feel like you ought to face your mortality. But that doesn't mean trying to make plans for some sort of afterlife fantasy.

[ Joan sighs, looking up at the ceiling, voice taking on a quiet quality. ]

I'm talking, Sherlock. That's all it is. Talk. I've "nearly died" enough times by now that "making plans" for any kind of afterlife is pointless.

You want to talk about something else, then pick a different topic. You're the one acting all uncomfortable and put-out by everything I say ever since I woke up.

[Sherlock frowns a bit, but he knows it's true.]

First, you tell me you love me and then start talking about ghosts and you expect me to be receptive toward either of those topics?

[He sighs and rubs at his mouth. Maybe it's too much to ask to have a normal conversation. Maybe reminisce over crime scenes or Lestrade's hideous new haircut.]

[ The same quiet tone, still looking up at the ceiling. ]

Do you not want me to love you?

[That's a trap if Sherlock knows one.]

That's not what I meant.

[He sighs and shakes his head. Damn it all to Hell and back. She;s off. Too off. He doesn't know what to do to make her act herself. Maybe start a bicker? No. She'd probably just cry. He can't handle that right now.]

What I mean is... I prefer it when we don't talk about it. I know how you feel and you know how I feel, too. Putting words to it just cheapens things. Makes it insincere.

[ Joan wouldn't call it a "trap" but she knew it would get Sherlock to be truthful instead of dodging the subject. She feels herself swallow painfully after he responds, finally turning her eyes to look at one of the upper corners in the room. She's trying not to dwell on what happened to her but it doesn't work very well. It's still too fresh, she's in the damn hospital because of it. Hard not to notice such a thing.

But already she's trying to pull it back and tuck it away. She doesn't want to talk about it. And she's getting the impression Sherlock doesn't want to hear about it. Last thing she wants is to break down in front of him.

She doesn't want to think about the regret that had twisted her stomach painfully during her time in that room. That she would die and never get to say how she felt, apologize for how she acted when he returned, for how she had hurt him. The fear of dying, the fear of being kept alive for rape and torture. Fear for him going after her family and friends. The rage at the one who took her in broad daylight and hurt her, made her feel such fear and regret.

She clenches her jaw from the effort of trying to shove such memories away, only able to speak once she felt she could. ]

Alright. I don't think it does. But then we've always had a difference of opinion.

Edited 2013-12-10 05:12 (UTC)

[The thing is, if Joan starts talking about what she'd gone through, he wouldn't cut her off. He'd listen. It would be painful to hear what the man's put Joan through, but he's not that callous to deny someone a chance for therapeutic release. Even if Sherlock can read a lot of the last forty-eight hours in Joan's appearance.

This whole ordeal has been hard for both of them. He's not a direct victim, but he'd faced the thought of losing Joan during it. He'd felt desperate obsession and despair all within hours of eachother. Worse, he'd had to deal with Mycroft and Lestrade trying to be supportive when their presence had only made him more unhappy. He'd wanted nothing more than to be alone with Joan - as she was supposed to be. Not unconscious and not broken.

And maybe he's still afraid. Not of the man who'd abducted Joan or the damage he could cause in the future, but of the damage he'd already caused.]

Maybe not in this case... but anyone can say 'I love you' to anyone else. The words don't mean anything.

[That's the real reason he's uncomfortable with 'I love you's.]

But if hearing it makes you feel better, then... I love you, too.

[ Joan is afraid, too. She doesn't like feeling this way. Doesn't like what she sees every time she closes her eyes. Doesn't like how she can't stop thinking about it. Doesn't like how she wants to murder the man that did this to her. That she can actually visualize all the ways she'd do it.

Doesn't like how she fears his reappearing and taking her again.

She doesn't want to be afraid.

But Sherlock saying that... Everything, for one long, blissful moment, stops and her heart aches in a way she hasn't felt in a while. Her words carry a slight tremor, ]

It does. It does. It means a lot--

[ And she's choking on the last word because the pressure behind her eyes burns and her jaw is clenched tightly, the breathing through her nose growing more labored as her vision blurs. She's shaking her head as she brings her good hand up to her eyes, trying to cover them. Trying so desperately not to fucking cry. No, no, no. She isn't going to do this. Not now. Not here. Oh God.

Words leak through gritted teeth as she can feel the hot water running down her cheeks. ]

Goddammit! I don't want this! I don't want to be like this!

[Sherlock always imagined him using those three words on someone bringing about a catastrophic, yet comedic, amount of tears. Probably says something about his childhood and dealing with peers both male and female. But this is something he just has no way of handling. So he sits there still, silent, and staring.

Yes, Sherlock Holmes is freezing up on the spot.]

I... uh.

[He has to do something. No matter how awkward it comes across. So, he'll stiffly move his hands to her upper arms. It's not a grab. More of a gentle rub.]

It's alright, Joan. You're safe. Just... Just relax.

[ She's trying to pull it all back, trying to make it stop and compose herself but the harder she tries, the worse it seems to get. Sending her into a mini coughing fit before she gets out. ]

No, it's not! It's not alright! I sound like a bloody hysteric!

[ She drops her hand, looking at Sherlock with wet, bloodshot eyes. ]

And I'm not safe as long as he's out there. Neither are you or Arthur for all I know.

[ She still didn't know if it had all been completely random and she had just been "chosen" while on her way to work. Or if it had been planned in advance long before because of who she was. ]

[The doctors warned him of this and Sherlock had claimed Joan's too strong to be effected this badly. Apparently, he'd been wrong. Temporary. This has to be temporary. Joan's been through war. She's seen him die. She's been in near death situations left and right thanks to him, and she's always been fine. In fact, she seeks them out. Lives for the danger. Adrenaline.]

Well, fine. You are hysterical, but that doesn't change the fact that you're safe. I'm here and nothing's going to happen to you.

[Don't do this to me, Joan. I can't have you falling to pieces on me. You're supposed to be the strong one.]

Eight hours. If Lestrade hasn't made an arrest in eight hours, I'll go out and do it myself.

[ In war, in the field of battle, she had had help. Her fellow soldiers there to watch her back. She had been armed, able to defend herself. After Sherlock's death, for as alone as she felt she had had a support system. She had had their son to be strong for. On cases, she had been able to defend herself for the most part. She had had Sherlock with her.

She hadn't been alone. She hadn't been kept in the dark, chained and beaten. She hadn't felt fear turn her stomach into lead. There had been no adrenaline. No rush. Just pure, petrifying fear and dread whenever she heard his steps approach the door.

She didn't want to think she was broken but even she knew something in her had at least fractured. The more pressure she put on it to try and make it disappear, the larger it grew.

When Sherlock said he would go after the man himself, her voice became eerily calm. ]

I'll go with you.

[ She didn't want him to be arrested. She wanted him dead. ]

[There's something in Joan's voice that screams her intent. Sherlock's not going to deny her vengeance for the sake of tying everything off legally. He's the sort of person that thinks the punishment should fit the crime and in his eyes, once he'd chosen Joan as a victim, that punishment grew tenfold. Murder can be swept under the rug with the knowledge and resources Sherlock's got at his fingertips, but then Sally would be right about him. He'd be capable of cold-blooded murder.

News flash. Just what do you think he'd been busy with during his absence?

Still, there's risks in this. He's quiet as he looks Joan over and does his calculations. She's weak - physically and emotionally. She'd get closure, but she might fall first. He won't deny her, though.]

One week.

[That's his only offer.]

You're recovering from hypovolemic shock and you're in no emotional state to go chasing criminals. So, you focus on healing for one week. If that man's still unmolested by the police then, we'll handle the case from there.

[ Her body finally seems to relax at that, grateful that he will allow her this. She knows that he knows what she wants to do and while she doesn't want to be classified as a murderer, clinging to vengeance, the desire for retribution, is far better than the fear of not knowing where he is or if he will come back. it's far better than being the victim, than giving into hysterics because she doesn't know what she's going to do in the wake of this. Not while he's still out there. This gives her a goal, makes her the one hunting him.

She nods her head, ]

One week.

[ She brings up her hand to wipe at her eyes, not bothering to turn her head away as she does it. Just looking down at her lap. She is silent for nearly an hour afterward, showing no signs of going back to sleep during that time. Even after she leans back in her bed. If Sherlock offers her water, she'll take it silently, taking small sips till she is done.

When she does speak, she isn't looking at Sherlock but it's clearly addressed to him. ]

I'm sorry.

Edited 2013-12-25 09:57 (UTC)

[Sherlock is more used to being the party in the bed than the one visiting. Still, he finds this role easier. (He hates being a patient). And the silence doesn't bother him. In fact, in most situations, he prefers it. It gives him a chance to think about his offer and reconsider Joan's state and chances at a full recovery. Things are looking up compared to how they'd been before she woke up in the first place.

After about ten minutes of the silence, Sherlock will sit back in his guest chair and draw his hands up into a steepled position under his nose. He doesn't think about it now, but this is the position his brother always sat in while he was in the hospital. Well, this or holding a newspaper. A quiet guardian making sure nothing goes wrong.

He won't be offering her water during the time unless she clears her throat or makes it known her throat hurts. He will be too busy in his own mind and the IV catheter should keep her hydrated.

He'll look up once he hears Joan speak.]

Sorry. What for?

[Coming from a man who rarely has a reason to apologise, he's not really able to find something that leaves Joan at fault enough to warrant an apology.]

[ She hesitates, second guessing herself after his reaction to her previous admission. There's a reason for the apology, an important one. At least to her, it is. It was one of those thoughts that kept repeating itself in her head when she was still conscious, trapped in the dark and feeling her body starting to fail on her.

But she shakes her head slightly before reaching for the call button on her bed. When the nurse comes in, ]

I need something to help me sleep, please.

[ She'd gladly welcome the sedative now. If she was going to get out of this hospital, sleep was essential right now. That and she knew it was going to be the only way she would be able to sleep. ]

[Sherlock waits for her to explain why she's apologising. It's one of those answers that will never come, but he already knows what it is so that doesn't matter to him. It's easier for her to drop it without the conversation turning toward a place neither of them are comfortable with.

He won't say anything against giving Joan a sedative. He knows it's for the best and right now she's not strong enough to suffer her nightmares. When the nurse leaves to get the medication, Sherlock leans forward in his chair.]

I'll stay here tonight. If you're doing better in the morning, I'll go back to the flat to get Arthur.

[Or, more likely, he will get Mycroft or Mrs. Hudson to bring him.]

[ Joan shakes her head at that, still not looking at Sherlock. ]

No. I don't want him here.

[ I don't want him to see me like this. ]

[Sherlock watches Joan for a few seconds. He won't bring Arthur to visit her if she really doesn't want him around, but he doesn't see why it would be a bad thing for the child. Sherlock's already exposed him to crime scene photographs and the boy's learning from a young age that the world isn't always a pretty place, but that doesn't mean he can't find happiness with his family.]

He'll stay with Mrs. Hudson, then.

[Because Sherlock's made his decision to stay with Joan.]

[ She wants to see him, wants to hold him and kiss him. But she knows he'll ask about the bruises and cuts on her face. Right now, as she is, she isn't sure she will be able to keep it together around him. She knows he has to be confused as it is; she doesn't want to make it worse.

She doesn't say anything else, even after the sedative has been administered. She finally looks back over at Sherlock, weakly extending a hand to him. She doesn't expect him to hold her hand the whole time she sleeps. Just while she's still awake. ]

[Sherlock stays out of the way when the nurse adds the sedative to the drip. He expects it will kick in after just a couple of minutes. When the nurse leaves, he stays in his chair until Joan reaches for him. Only then does he scoot closer to take her hand.]

I'll be here when you wake up.

[And if he isn't, it means he's in the loo.]

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