bakerstreet | On Your Doorstep

On Your Doorstep

They ended up on your doorstep, quite literally. Bloody, possibly. Bruised, most definitely, though the wounds may be mental. You probably don't know them from Adam, yet you couldn't find it in you to turn them away - whether they wanted you to or not. So you opened up your home, just for a little while.

But it's getting to be more than a little while. Both of you are finding a comfort zone, because you didn't simply open up your home. Admit it or don't, but you've opened up your heart all the same.

Their's is slowly following, if its reluctant at all.

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[ He hisses at the arm going around his waist, flinching. ]

My ribs.

[ But he hooks an arm around Sherlock's neck, willing himself to take a step once he's up. He grits out, ]

You know how to stitch, don't you?

Sorry.

[Sherlock moves his hand lower to grab at John's hip instead of his side.]

Yeah, I know how to stitch up a wound.

[He doesn't know how to do it like a medical professional, though. He'll leave ugly scars with the work he does, but it's a price to pay to keep John alive and out of Moriarty's or Mary's or whoever's done this's reach. Whoever it is wouldn't be dumb enough to come in and face him head on, would they?

He turns his head away from John and calls out for Mrs. Hudson to phone Lestrade.]

[ John's trying his damnedest to keep his breathing regulated, calm. And to keep his eyes open. Don't pass out, John Watson. At least wait until getting to the damn sofa. ]

They--they won't be there.

[ Even if John had left them on the floor, David was groaning as he left with the baby. ]

John. Stay with me.

[Sherlock can see the colour draining from John's face. Fainting halfway up the stairs would be dangerous for an assortment of reasons. He adjusts his hold so he'll be able to keep him up even if he starts to go down.

It feels like it takes ages to get into to flat and lay John on the sofa. Bloodstains be damned, he can reupholster the furniture later. He hovers over his friend, patting at his cheek a couple of times to make sure he's still responsive. He wants to know more details, but it'll have to wait until he can get some fluids - water and pickle juice for electrolytes - into John and the sutures started.

He's only out of the living room for three minutes. When he returns, he'll have the medical kit and the two drinking glasses.]

We need to get your clothes off.

[Not all of his clothes, just from the waist up, but he's in too much of a hurry to correct himself.]

[ John will barely be conscious when Sherlock comes back, weakly getting out, ]

Have... at it.

[ Sherlock said he could stitch, so he's going to hold him to that. He's trying to stay awake and aware but he's already fading in and out. ]

[Sherlock stands over John while he unbuttons and unzips everything with buttons and zips, then he holds him up with one hand to start taking his clothes off layer by layer. When he's nude from the waist up, he lays him down again.]

You need to drink something.

[He picks up the pickle juice first.]

Here.

[He holds the cup to John's mouth and tilts it a little.]

[ The smell it what wakes him up, groaning softly and turning his head away. His expression is a mixture of pained and disgust. ]

Ugh. What are--stop it.

You need salts or you're going to pass out. We don't have sports drinks, so this will have to do. Now drink.

[Sherlock starts to tilt the cup again.]

I'll give you water after to rinse the taste out of your mouth.

[ John weakly shoves at Sherlock, still keeping his head turned away. ]

I'm not drinking that!

Give me water now!

[ Doctors always tend to make the worst patients. ]

If you were treating me, what would you do?

[Sherlock pours some of the water into the pickle juice, then he tries again.]

There. I've diluted it and you're wasting time.

[At least the slice appears to be an oozer and not a gusher.]

[ If it were John, he'd hold Sherlock's nose and force it down. But like hell was he telling Sherlock that.

He keeps his head turned away, ]

I'd rather pass out.

John, you've got a crying newborn downstairs and you want me to let you pass out? You're wasting time.

[Sherlock's frustrated, so he sets the glass on the edge of the table so John can lean over and pick it up if he wants. He needs to clean the wound and sterilise his instruments, which he starts to do by picking up his bottle of distilled water - the same one he uses for his kitchen experiments - and holds it over John's arm.]

I'm going to flush the wound, then I'll clean it with alcohol.

[ He whips his head around to look at the other man, ignoring for the moment how the room was spinning. ]

You are wasting time. Get on with it!

[ He has had a long, trying night to say the least. He is in no mood to be pushed around further. Even if Sherlock has a valid point. ]

Am I?

[Sherlock shakes the distilled water bottle a bit before he squeezes it and sends a steady stream of water into the wound.]

I guess that means you don't want me to warn you about what I'm doing.

[It doesn't matter much on his end since he isn't the one that will need to brace himself for the onslaught of pain. All of this is his way of trying to be gentle and caring, but it's discouraging with a grumpy patient.]

Your drink's right there. Feel free to take it up any time.

I don't want it!

[ John yells it as a means of dealing with the pain of the wound being flushed out and cleaned. His eyes squeeze tight enough tears come out. He's trembling after, panting at staring up at the ceiling, not bothering to wipe at his eyes. ]

Then don't drink it.

[Sherlock grits his teeth a bit while he's working. It's easy enough to flush his own wounds, but it's different doing it to someone else's.]

Do you have anything for the pain?

[He sets the distilled water down and scoots the glass of regular water to the edge of the table next to the pickled one.]

Local anaesthesia? I think the morphine I've got's been expired for three years.

If it's not here, how could I have it?

[ His words are slurred and he looks dazed. ]

Should've gone to hospital. But she's safer here.

[ Safer with Sherlock. He felt safer with him, too. ]

If you're not going to drink anything, keep your head down.

[Sherlock takes out his phone and sends a text to Molly telling her to bring by what he needs for an IV and some pain medication. He's sure to put it's for John because he doesn't need her thinking he's drug seeking. He also adds in that it's an emergency situation.

When he's finished, he sets his phone down to the side and picks up the bag of cotton swabs. He saturates them with the rubbing alcohol and moves closer to John again.]

This may hurt.

[He presses the saturated swabs on the skin around the wound first, but he eventually needs to clean the edges and that's when the alcohol will sting.]

Molly will be here soon with an IV. You're going to be alright, John.

[Whether he stays conscious for the whole procedure or not.]

[ John only lasts long enough to hear Sherlock say Molly would be coming with an IV. He doesn't even realize his eyes closed until the next time he opens them and he has said IV in him.

He looks at it with bleary eyes and then calls for Sherlock, voice rough and cracking, ]

Sherlock?

[Sherlock won't be far. In fact, he's in his bedroom with Mrs. Hudson talking in hushed voices. As soon as he hears John's voice, he rushes back to the main room to check on him.]

I'm here.

[He glances over him, figuring he's probably going to need to have a piss sooner rather than later now that he's hydrated. He hadn't thought to ask for a urinary catheter.]

Try not to sit up too fast. You're on a healthy dose of morphine.

[It's a relief that he's coming to so soon. It's only been three hours since he finished stitching him up with Molly's assistance.]

[ John doesn't even feel like he can move let alone sit up. ]

Are you alright?

Alice?

What? I'm fine...

[Sherlock's eyebrows pinch together when he tries to go through his mind looking for the name 'Alice', but it only lasts a few seconds before the realisation hits.]

Oh, the baby. She's fine. Wait here.

[He holds his hands up, then he turns back around. When he comes back, he'll be holding a clean looking baby wearing a cute pink and yellow onesie. He carries her over to the sofa and kneels down in front of it to be closer to John.]

Molly brought some supplies round after we finished patching you up.

[ He finally smiles at the sight of his daughter, all clean and snug in Sherlock's arms.

But his smile falters, his expression becoming more grim as he finally admits, ]

It was Mary. And David. They attacked me at the flat. Tried to kill me and take Alice with them.

[Sherlock had been unwilling to hold Alice the first two hours after he sewed John up, but since Mrs. Hudson handed her off to him, he hasn't really wanted to put her down.]

Mary and David... did they say anything to you during all of that?

[He'll need to contact his brother with the information... well, chances are Mycroft already knows the details. But he'll do it just in case.]

[ John slowly shakes his head, ]

I tried to get answers, asked 'why'. They never said anything.

[ He reaches out to caress the baby's cheek as she continued to nod off, sucking on a pacifier. ]

She likes you. Normally, she squirms when other people hold her.

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