Missing Piece - BBC Sherlock (Johnlock) *finally completed*

Chapter 10

The skin felt hot against Sherlock’s cold hands. Possibly a fever. With this kind of injury and the not so wholesome environment they had kept him. His eyes moved to John’s blood stained shirt and the wounds that were all too visible. An angry red, blood smeared stripe against his unusual pale skin.

John eyelids fluttered open and for a split second Sherlock wondered if he should withdraw his hand that was still grazing John’s cheek, but he didn’t want to. Sherlock didn’t want to let go of what he had finally gotten a hold of. The idea of letting go of his doctor didn’t seem right to Sherlock, it filled him with discomfort and uneasiness.

John’s eyes were unfocused at first before widening in pleasant surprise, the corners of his mouth turning up into a glad but tired smile. With his free hand Sherlock pulled out the knife he had seen on his way down and put into his pocket. There was still some blood on it. Sherlock felt sick at the fact that he held a knife with John’s blood on it in his hands.

John’s eyes followed his gaze and flinched when he saw that the consulting detective held the weapon that caused him so much pain. Sherlock hurried to move it out of John’s field of vision, angry at himself for being stupid enough to let the doctor see it and started to cut through the ropes, careful not to hurt John in the process.

“It’s all right. I won’t let you get hurt again, John” his voice was slightly shaking, though he tried not to let John hear how enraged and worried he was.

Nothing was all right. Sherlock had let John get hurt. He would never be able to forgive himself for that. 

John noticed. Of course he did after getting to know Sherlock so well and leaned into the hand lingering on his cheek. No, John had surely only done that because of the comfortable coolness of his hand,  Sherlock tried to convince himself as warmth flooded through his body at this gesture. It made his mind slow down, busy analyzing the feeling of his flat mate’s skin against his.

The knife severed the rope that had left bruises on the good doctor’s wrists and he sagged forward as he hadn’t paid further attention to what Sherlock was doing with the knife because he had got distracted by the Sherlock’s worried tone and the self blame he thought had swung in it. John had wanted to say something soothing to Sherlock but wasn’t sure he could trust his voice just yet. He was still in pain and didn’t want Sherlock to reproach himself any more than he already did.

The consulting detective had expected for John to fall forward and caught him, accidentally bumping against the hurt shoulder and John hissed painfully.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you” Sherlock hurried to say dreadfully guilt-ridden. He should have paid more attention. Stupid! He couldn’t think clearly anymore. Now was not the time to get distracted by their closeness. It had never been a problem before.

Why didn’t John say anything? Was he more hurt than Sherlock had presumed? Worry nagged at the back of his mind, eating up every calm thought that tried to from inside of Sherlock’s head.

Just as Sherlock opened his mouth to ask why John wasn’t saying anything, the doctor turned his head that leaned against Sherlock’s shoulder to look at the consulting detective’s pale and troubled looking face.

“I knew you’d find me” his voice was hoarse and weak, scaring Sherlock more than he would ever admit because John always sounded so strong. He instinctively moved his hand that had cut the ropes after letting go of the knife and brought it to John’s back, turning their positions into an awkward hug.

Sherlock was overextended with this situation. He didn’t know what to do, but hugging John felt like the right thing to do. He put his other hand at John’s neck, pressing him protectively against him. It was nice to feel John so close against him. His hot breath against his neck and his quick heartbeat. Feeling that he was alive and safe.

“It’s my fault you got hurt, John. I- if they’d killed you, I don’t know what I would do” Sherlock stammered, uncertain how to express his feelings. This had never really been his area. But he wanted, no, he needed to tell him.

“I know. You’d be lost without your blogger” John chuckled flimsily against Sherlock’s shoulder, sending a shiver down the consulting detective’s spine. He frowned, not feeling like joking about this. He meant what he had said.

“Yes, I’d be lost without you” Sherlock said earnestly because he wanted John to know that he wholeheartedly felt that way. The good doctor looked up at the seriousness of Sherlock’s words and there was a long moment of silence in which neither of them knew what to do next.

With each second that past Sherlock grew more and more flustered and tense. He hadn’t said anything wrong, had he? Had this been inappropriate? But he had meant every word of it. The consulting detective pondered frantically how he could somehow end this awkward silence.

Just as he opened his mouth to say anything at all John broke the silence, clearing his throat loudly.

“Yes- That- I mean, I’d be as well. I would be lost without you too” He said clumsily. Sherlock’s heart doubled its pace and he could feel his face heating up although there was absolutely no reason for him to react like that. Or at least he tried to tell himself that, but when he saw that John’s ears turned red and a blush made its way to his cheeks he only grew more flustered.

Red. That reminded him of something…something important…John’s injuries!

“John, are you alright? Do you feel dizzy? We should take you to a hospital right away! Are you in much pain?” Sherlock hastened to ask John who flinched, startled by Sherlock’s sudden outburst. How could he let himself get distracted like that again? First they had to take care of John’s wounds, then they could dwell on their reunion, Sherlock scolded himself.

The questions had sputtered so fast from the consulting detective’s lips that John’s mind, still hazy and slow from the pain had trouble following. It took him a few moments to answer in which Sherlock started to fumble with the remains of John’s shirt and began to examine the wounds.

“Yes, I’m all right at the moment. The wounds are all stitched up” John started while the consulting detective ran his fingers carefully over the long red mark on his chest, shuddering at the touch, “No need for a hospital. I just want to go home with you. Have a cup of coffee and then sleep in my bed.” Sherlock sighed in relief at that. If John said there was no need to go to a hospital he trusted him with that, he was a doctor after all and the thought of taking John back home with him was far more pleasant than to see him lying in a hospital bed.

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god , please don't kill me when I tell you that this was already finished a few months ago and I completely forgot to upload it *hides in corner with blanket*