Nights When Boredom Strikes

Waiting for the Wound to Heal

Sherlock woke up in the early morning, before the sun had creeped out from behind the horizon to shine through the windows of the flat. He had been mapping out his experiment in his sleep, a skill he had acquired over a period of time. He got up softly and silently so he wouldn't wake John and crept to his room, pulling his John folder out of the cabinet in which he kept it. He pulled all of this John memories out of his mind palace to the forefront of his thoughts, placing them in order so he could correctly document them. Incorrect data was as bad as no data at all.

Entry 3: John sober still has apparent attraction towards me. Need more info on that/Rohypnol used because of immediate threat to experiment. Sexual activity before case came up. John was injured, had to be more careful, not able to do much. Fell asleep on the couch, not normal, but not too strange. John won't remember anything from 10 o'clock to 6 o'clock due to dose of Rohypnol added to his morning tea. Post injury-sleep will probably be vague due to medications. Keep tabs on John's behavior on the new pain medications he's taking for the injury. Eighty milligrams of Oxycontin every six to eight hours. 

Sherlock placed the notebook back in the cabinet and grabbed a sheet. He wrapped himself in it before returning to the sitting room. He grabbed his laptop and sat at a desk, looking through his emails and solving most of the presented cases within seconds, highly uninteresting. It seems as though the police are actually doing their work, seeing as Lestrade hasn't texted. Sherlock thought to himself. Well, I need to work on some other experiments anyway. He continued as he pulled up his files about the coagulation of saliva after death and bruises that form hours after time of death, scanning their contents and mapping out future experiments. He took the folders with him out of his room and dropped them on the table, pulling out a laptop and setting it on the table in front of him, starting it up and getting to work after glancing at a sleeping John and flashing a grin.

John's eyes fluttered open, bright light of the late morning sun blinding him temporarily. He tried to collect his thoughts, relieved that he could, at least a little bit, for once. Well, he couldn't remember up to the case yesterday, there was a gap between his morning tea and then, nothing but little flashes of a dream and not enough to piece anything together... He remembered where he was and sat up quickly, too quickly, sending a shooting pain up his side, causing him to curl into a ball, gasping for air. Sherlock ran over in a bed sheet, wrapping his arms around John and pulling him into himself. 

"Are you alright? Where does it hurt? What happened?" Sherlock questioned, pulling John arms from around his torso to look at the bandages. 

"I'm okay, just sat up too fast." John said through his teeth, still gripping his side and putting pressure around the bandages. He forgot Sherlock was acting weird lately as well, but he was quickly reminded of that fact, and of what he thought happened on the couch the day before.

This has got to stop, Sherlock is worrying himself to much. It isn't healthy. John thought as he reassured his detective, getting off his lap and back on to the couch. Sherlock eyed him carefully, looking up and down for any sign that John was lying to him, and found none. 

"Let me see it." Sherlock's curiosity took him over every now and then, and this was one of those times. John sighed and turned to where his side was facing Sherlock. Sherlock carefully undid the gauze and tape, revealing the cut. He was right, it really isn't as bad as I thought. No sign of infection, good. Bruises yellowing, healing, good. Cut completely closed and scab shrinking. He ran the tip of his fingers across the area around the injury softly. Heat radiating from the area, healing, good. Sherlock thought as he threw the bandages into the nearest waste basket.

John looked at his side. "You know, I think it will be fine without another bandage." John stated, quite correct observation, Sherlock had thought the same thing when first seeing how well it had closed and how it was shrinking.