Be My Starlight

Recovery

   POV- John

 Sherlock falls asleep rather quickly, shivering from the cold. Thankfully Mycroft comes back in with a blanket, and covers both of us. 

     "Get some sleep, wake me up if anything happens please. Thank you for staying over with him."

     He kisses Sherlock on the forehead again, looking back at us before he leaves the room.

     "Look after him, please."

     I fall lie awake for a while later, worried about Sherlock. He wakes when I get up off the couch, reaching out for my hand. 

     "John?"

     He is still half asleep, so I sit back down until he falls asleep again. I walk out of the room, heading to the kitchen for some tea. Mycroft is sitting at the counter, drinking tea in the semi dark room. Light spills in from the hallway, but not enough to be seen from the sitting room. 

     "Hi John. Tea?"

     I accept a cup, sitting across the counter from Mycroft. We sit in silence, drinking our tea.

     "How are you feeling?"

     "I'm okay. Bloody head hurts, but I'm okay."

     He gets up to rinse his cup, walking behind me to the freezer after. He hands me an ice pack and sets another cup of tea out.

     "My brother should wake up soon, he doesn't usually sleep through the whole night. Insomnia gets worse at times like this."

     I nod and he walks out, switching off the light as he walks back to his room. 

     "John?"

     "I'm in the kitchen Sherlock."

     He walks into the room a few seconds later, switching the lights on. I wave him over, handing him his cup and the ice. He refuses the ice, taking it and holding it against the back of my head instead. 

     "I'm sorry."

     "What for Sherlock? You didn't do anything wrong."

     "You got hurt trying to help me."

     "I wanted to help you."

     He hops onto the counter, cup in his injured hand, and sits indian style. I grab his free hand, trying to steady the shaking in his body. He does relax some, stops shaking as badly. No one gave him his shirt back, so he is still not wearing one. Not like he needs one, he is cute after all. He notices me looking, and leans down to kiss me. I sit up on my knees, now almost head level with him. Mycroft comes back in, yelling at Sherlock to get off the counter. I look up, a small smile is on his lips. His expression quickly turns somber when Sherlock turns to face him, he can see the bruises that have started to deepen in colour. Mycroft reaches out to embrace Sherlock, pulling him into a hug. They stay like this for a few minutes, neither one moving. Sherlock stumbles back suddenly, groaning.

     "Sherlock? Are you okay?"

     "Hospital."

     "What?"

     "Take me."

     Mycroft is silent, not spesking through our exchange. He does, however, grab his keys and make sure Sherlock makes it out to the car okay. Once in the car, he takes off quickly, wasting no time on the drive. He skids to a stop outside the front doors, yelling at me to take Sherlock in. I jump out of the car, guiding Sherlock out.

     "Get him checked in, I'll get parked and come in. Here, make him put this on at least."

     Mycroft throws Sherlocks coat at us, driving off again. We walk in, Sherlock leaning heavily on me, and stumble to the front desk. The nurse sitting there stares at Sherlock for a few seconds before disappearing down the hall. She returns minutes later, another nurse in tow.

     "What happened?"

     "He got in a fight."

     Mycroft appears behind me, hand on my shoulder. I don't speak, letting the lie settle. They take Sherlock to a room, allowing us to follow. Mycroft explains Sherlocks injuries, leaving out the real cause.

     "Twice dislocated wrist, bruises and abrasions from being kicked, and ah...recent drug overdose."

     Mycroft taps the tip of his umbrella on the floor, a finalizing statement to his list.

     "Overdose on what?"

     "I'm not sure, didn't get a list this time."

     "Pardon?"

     "Nothing. I dont know the drugs he used. We gave him some pain medications a few times within the past day, nothing in the past three hours though."

     She takes Sherlocks vitals, turning to Mycroft for things like weight and height. He is groaning again, face showing plenty of pain.

     "John?"

     I walk over, taking his good hand when he reaches out for me. The nurse works around me, needing Sherlock to remain calm through her inspection.

     "I need him to remove his coat please, and his shirt."

     Mycroft chuckles, telling me to help Sherlock out of his coat. The nurse looks confused when she sees he dosent have a shirt on, shaking it off rather quickly before continuing to check his injuries. Sherlock's grip on my hand tightens when she presses along his ribs, checking for breaks.

     "Nothing broken, possibly a bruised rib or two though."

     "And his wrist?"

     Sherlock doesn't complain when she moves his arm, though he does turn and press his face into my coat. I put my hand on the back of his neck, letting him stay like this until she is done. He comes out on his own, face red and tearstreaked.

     "It was dislocated badly. You need to rest it..."

     I block out the rest of what she says, trying to calm Sherlock down. Mycroft pulls him off of me eventually, carrying him out to the car.

     "He'll be okay. Don't let him out tomorrow, please don't let him answer the door either."

     "We'll be okay this time, your father won't do anything so soon after, will he?"

     "I don't know."

     I wake Sherlock when we get back to the flat, helping him back inside. He lies down on the couch immediately, falling back asleep quickly. Mycroft tells me to go back to sleep again, covering us with a blanket after I collapse next to Sherlock.

     "Good night John."

     "Good night Mycroft."

     Sherlock stirs slightly when Mycroft leans down to kiss his forehead, hugging his brother before he leaves.

     "Night John."

     "Good night Sherlock. Love you."

     "You too."