Heal Me

Chapter Five

I had drifted off into an oddly pleasant sleep. Crying tended to make me tired, and after having another good weep about my parents, I had found myself lying against my pillow, my mind tricking me into thinking it was this soft, soft paradise that would take me away...

"Sherlock!" I heard my name being called and grumbled a little, still half asleep. I hadn't been dreaming until now. Hearing my own name seemed to rouse my mind a little and bring it to life. 

"No, don't..." I heard myself mumble, some part of me conscious and telling myself to wake up completely. 

"Sherlock, come on. Time to wake up-"

I jolted in my sleep, eyes snapping open. I gasped, trying to get my senses back to me. My bleary eyes travelled up to find that young doctor from before. Dr. Watson. "Oh...What are you...?"

I saw Dr. Watson's smile change to a much kinder one as I got myself out of my slumber. My first peaceful sleep in a long time.

"What do you want, I'm not due medicine for another hour at least." I grumbled, my voice oddly gravely from sleep.

He pulled himself up straight, still wearing that terribly cheery smile. "It's time for your physiotherapy. I take you at a later time than your last doctor. He lives outside of London, you see, so he had to leave earlier seeing as he had to travel farther, and I don't so..." He caught my 'not-caring' expression and just nodded, catching himself. "So, I'll take you now. I have a wheelchair and a nurse will bring you down as soon as you can." 

I nodded with an annoyed huff of air blown from my nose, before I motioned over to Nurse Hooper to help me into my wheelchair. She shuffled over, fixing her apron as she did.

"Hello, Sherlock." she smiled, putting her hands under my armpits. I'd gone beyond the stage of caring where they put their hands on me. What needed to be done, had to be done, and I had to let them do it. For my own health. So I could get better. She hoisted me into my wheelchair and I gave a pained grunt as I landed in the seat.

She bit her lip, pulling back to see my face with a pitying expression. "Sorry, Mr. Holmes, but you will get better. That's why you're here." She gave me a smile, then started walking me out of the room and into the hallways.

"I hear you've been assigned to Doctor Watson." she said. I could hear the smile in her voice and I rolled my eyes. Oblivious to my lack of enthusiasm in this conversation, she continued to rattle on about the great and the wonderful John Watson.

"Did you know that he also fought?" Yes. "He volunteered to fight in the first year. Poor sod got terribly shook up after he got shot, but look how strong he is. Came back fighting fit...Well, not fighting. But you know what I mean. He was ready to help in whatever way he could."

Hooper stopped outside the wooden door with a single glass pane in the centre that led into the room used for physiotherapy. God, I hated it. I knew it was making me better, but it made me look so weak! I could barely walk and it was humiliating. I was like an infant and I could feel, hear, see people's pity around me. I didn't want their pity. I wanted support, yet at the same time I wanted to speak to no one. Oh, my head was rather jumbled up.

"Alright, Sherlock." her voice went softer. "You'll be okay. I can see how tense you are." She gave me a friendly smile. "That's okay." Her hand went to my shoulder, squeezing gently. "Now, in you go. Dr. Watson is nice" She nodded encouragingly, opening the door for me.

I tried a smile for her, then started to wheel myself in, not really knowing if the smile had appeared on my lips or not. It was a large room. It could have fit many more hospital beds, but instead, there was a desk by the large windows, filing cabinets scattered around it. In the centre of the room there were the bars. The dreaded bars. 

Two metal poles shot up from the floor, about half a metre apart from each other. Like railings, they ran down the room for three metres then stopped. All I had to do was hold onto the bars for support and walk those three metres. God, it was a lot harder than it sounded. 

Dr. Watson was standing at his desk, leaning against the front of it that jutted out into the room. "Hello, Sherlock." he smiled, then placed down the file he had been reading. "Let me shut that door for you." he said, then walked across the room to get to the door. I was perfectly capable of shutting the door myself, but for some reason I found myself humouring him, and I let him waste his time in being polite.

"So, today we're going to have you walking as much as you can on the walking spot." He gestured with his hands to the poles. "I'll be beside you. I'll catch you if you fall and you have the railings to grab onto if you feel yourself slipping. As per usual, if you start to feel light-headed or fatigued, tell me straight away and I'll let you take a rest. This is supposed to help, and yes, it is tiring, but we don't want you too tired, now, do we?"

I stared up at him and then just shook my head, telling him I agreed. 

He sighed a little to himself, then walked to the railings. "Alright, wheel yourself over." he nodded at me. 

It was my turn to sigh and I did as instructed til I came to stop beside him. "I need help getting up." I said, looking up to him.

Dr. Watson nodded and moved his hands under my arms like Molly had done, but the first thing I noticed was how much stronger he felt. Safer. More secure. I leaned heavily against him, unable to help myself, and winced. "Sorry..."

He shook his head. "Don't worry, I've dealt with people who are a lot worse." he promised. "Now, as soon as you can, grab onto the bars with both hands...And, then I'll tell you when to start walking." 

I had my arms clutched onto his shoulders and I turned my gaze to the bars. Groaning internally, I put one hand out and caught onto a bar, my knuckles going white as I held onto it. Taking a deep breath, I managed to swing my other arm down and I caught myself before I had to put weight onto my leg. 

"Very good, Sherlock." he said in his kind voice, but this time I could also detect something else. Worry? Concern?

"Now, just get used to holding yourself up with the rails...And then gently place your injured leg down, just for a second, just a little bit of pressure."

I nodded and took a moment before doing so. I winced slightly, my face screwing up at the small shoot of pain. 

"Now gradually walk forward, each time trying to put a bit more weight onto your leg." he instructed.

Off I went. It wasn't too bad at first, I took very brief steps on my injured leg, and longer ones on my other. But eventually, as more and more pressure was put on my bad leg, the sweat started to form on my forehead, my neck and I was biting my lip against noises of pain.

"Very good, Sherlock. You're doing so well, just a little bit more."

I stepped forward, but whatever way I did it this time, I ended up feeling a horrible spike of pain shoot right up my injured leg and I yelped, nearly falling. He was surprisingly read to catch me and I let him, leaning in against the doctor for support. My arms were shaking from exertion.

"That was very good. I think that's enough for today, don't you?" 

I nodded, head dipped forward. I could feel the curls at the top of my head brush his shoulder and I pulled back. "Done." I said, feeling exhausted.

He let me go with a sad smile, but told me I had done well. For some reason his approval meant a lot to me.

It was gradual, my feelings for John, but I couldn't ignore them. Any time his hands were on me, my heart tripled in speed. Any time he spoke to me, I could feel my reaction in the heat on my cheeks. It frightened me to know that I was falling in love with my male doctor, but it was also wonderful. It was a wonderful distraction and I really did love him...And a part of me felt like he cared for me too.