Sherlock notices everything. The shaking, the sobbing, the fluctuating body temperature, rapid pulse, rapid respiration, blood loss. John's terrified, hurting badly, and his body is at a high risk of going into shock and there's nothing he can do but cradle him close. He'll die. He's going to...
There's nothing he can do. Unless they get to a hospital, there's nothing he can do. Moriarty won't be kind enough to give them an IV catheter for fluids or proper treatment for the extent of injuries John's suffered. Anything he can try to do with the materials at hand would be useless and he'd cause more damage trying to patch him up than to simply hold him still.
"Shh," Sherlock tells him, pressing his face down into the bloody mess left of his friend's scalp. "I've got you," he whispers. What had they done to John's eyes? Just like last time, John's trying to tell him the extent of his injuries, only this time Sherlock thinks his imagination might be underestimating the damage.
He's losing it again. He tries to hold it in this time, not because he's ashamed of it. He's well past the point of caring about something like shame. He just doesn't think his body shaking under John's will do his friend any good.
I've got to keep him comfortable. For what? His last few minutes?
"I, uhm... I guess, I should thank you," He probably doesn't sound like he's making much sense. Or maybe John will realise why he's doing it. "You... you've proven me wrong, you know. I think... once I told you there wasn't a such thing as heroes. But, John, that's... that's what you are. A hero." He wouldn't be good at this under the best of circumstances, and right now his attempt just feels pathetic.
It's about then that the overhead light flashes on. Sherlock huddles around John protectively. If Moriarty wants him, he'll have to pry him out of Sherlock's grasp.
no subject
There's nothing he can do. Unless they get to a hospital, there's nothing he can do. Moriarty won't be kind enough to give them an IV catheter for fluids or proper treatment for the extent of injuries John's suffered. Anything he can try to do with the materials at hand would be useless and he'd cause more damage trying to patch him up than to simply hold him still.
"Shh," Sherlock tells him, pressing his face down into the bloody mess left of his friend's scalp. "I've got you," he whispers. What had they done to John's eyes? Just like last time, John's trying to tell him the extent of his injuries, only this time Sherlock thinks his imagination might be underestimating the damage.
He's losing it again. He tries to hold it in this time, not because he's ashamed of it. He's well past the point of caring about something like shame. He just doesn't think his body shaking under John's will do his friend any good.
I've got to keep him comfortable. For what? His last few minutes?
"I, uhm... I guess, I should thank you," He probably doesn't sound like he's making much sense. Or maybe John will realise why he's doing it. "You... you've proven me wrong, you know. I think... once I told you there wasn't a such thing as heroes. But, John, that's... that's what you are. A hero." He wouldn't be good at this under the best of circumstances, and right now his attempt just feels pathetic.
It's about then that the overhead light flashes on. Sherlock huddles around John protectively. If Moriarty wants him, he'll have to pry him out of Sherlock's grasp.