Waiter in a suit - A Johnlock

26. Sirens

       
Sorry for the delay ugh.
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It was Friday evening.

It's been a week since Sherlock got missing. John was slowly giving up hope. If they found Sherlock back, he was pretty sure they would find him dead. John had been crying a couple times. He tried not to, trying to stay strong. But he gave up.

Mrs Hudson took care of John. She invited him for dinner every night and did grocery shopping for him. John also had been ignoring phone calls from his work, what caused John being unemployed. He also didn't go to his apartment for a week as well.

John took a deep breath and plunked himself down in the sofa, spilling tea on his pajama trousers. He just returned from Mrs Hudson. She had made his favourite meal. John turned on the TV and started watching a movie. Suddenly John's phone started ringing. John didn't make a move at the sound. Sarah had been calling him constantly. He was pretty sure that it was her once again. He just grumbled and continued staring at the TV screen.

An hour later John, closed his eyes and fell asleep, not caring about how sore his neck will be the next morning.

John jolted awake as someone slammed open the door. He rubbed a hand over his face, watching as Mrs Hudson peeked inside, she looked tired but there was a smile plastered on her face.

"Mrs Hudson?" He said weakly, pushing himself upright into a sitting position.

"They found him." She said with a bright smile, her eyes twinkling from happiness.

"Sherlock?" John asked as he stood up, his heart pounding incredibly fast. She nodded and strolled over to him, engulfing him in an enormous hug. "Where is he? How do you know?" He blurted out, pulling away.

"Greg tried to call you, John." She said with a slight frown on her face. John cursed under his breath and rushed to his phone and indeed it was Greg Lestrade that had called him. He swiftly clicked on call back and brought the phone to his ear and waited on Greg to answer. They found Sherlock back. And alive. The thought brought a smile to his lips.

"For god's sake. It's about time you answer your phone." Greg said, clearly annoyed. John heard him sigh. Just when he wanted to reply, Greg spoke up again. "We found him in Hereford. We're on the way to Bakerstreet." Greg informed, sirens clearly hearable in the background. Mrs Hudson had emerged the flat.

"Is he okay?" John asked with worry. Greg was silent for a moment.

"He was tortured. He's refusing to go to the hospital." Greg said. John's heart rose into his mouth and his stomach clenched. He had to take care of Sherlock's wounds once he came home.

"What about the perpetrators?" John asked, deeply hoping whoever did this got caught.

"Gone already." Greg said firmly.

"Oh god." John said, running a hand through his hair.

"John I have to go now. We're there in thirty minutes."  Greg informed.

"Okay. Thank you Greg."

While waiting John had prepared everything he could do to help Sherlock. He spread a towel over the sofa, laid ointment and a dishcloths on the table. He didn't have doctor equipment in Sherlock's flat. So he deeply hoped that Sherlock wasn't in need of any stitches. John also placed two cups onto the counter, both filled with a tea bag and one filled with two sugars.

John heard sirens outside the flat. He jumped out of the armchair, turning on the kettle as he passed the kitchen and rushed down the stairs. He opened the door and immediately John's heart ached at the sight in front of him. Greg was helping Sherlock out of the car.

"Sherl..." John gasped, making his way over to the two. Sherlock's shoulders were slumped, he was deathly pale. He had a black eye, blood smeared all over his face. His clothes covered in blood. The two grabbed Sherlock's arms carefully and threw them over their shoulders, dragging Sherlock inside the flat. They managed to bring Sherlock on the sofa. Sherlock hadn't spoken yet. His eyes remained closed the whole time, and whenever John had said something, he didn't reply. Greg and John were now standing at the door.

"John. I'm going to need to talk with Sherlock. Can you text me when he's... ready?" Greg whispered, briefly glancing at Sherlock.

"Yes. Sure." John whispered back. Greg nodded, sending John a reassuring smile. He cleared his throat. "Well, take good care of him." He said.

"I will."  John said. Greg nodded once again and emerged the flat. John took a deep breath and turned around. He walked over to Sherlock and sat himself down. The room was deadly silent. John's fingers deftly looped around Sherlock's wrist, feeling his pulse. John sighed in relief. He then frowned as he noticed the wounds. Some of them were stitched up already.

"Sherlock." He said quietly. John sighed as Sherlock didn't reply again. He ignored the fact that he didn't want to speak and began taking care of the fresh wounds. He unbuttoned his shirt. A gasp flew from John's mouth as he saw the dozens of cuts scattered over the detective's torso "Oh god." He muttered. Sherlock also had a puncture wound at his side. Thankfully they treated it. John thought it was weird. They tortured him but made sure that he didn't die. What kind of criminal does this?

John gently cleansed Sherlock's wounds, carefully watching him for any evident discomfort.

The wounds burned with each pass of the cloth and water, but Sherlock didn't make a move. He remained silent. John gently smeared something onto the wounds, causing a burning sensation. Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut. John's hand retracted for a moment, before his fingers retuned, gentler than before.

"Sorry." John whispered.

"It's okay." Sherlock replied with a croaked voice, not making eye contact. John's eyes widened as Sherlock replied. He wanted to tell Sherlock so much things, but he assumed that it was better to remain silent. John stroked Sherlock's hand with his thumb. And then he laid the cloth onto the table. He told Sherlock that he will go after Sherlock's pyjamas. Because Sherlock was only in his pants. His legs were covered with wounds as well. So John had to pull out all his clothes.

John returned with the clothes and helped Sherlock into them. John took Sherlock's hand and placed a soft kiss on his hand palm before walking into the kitchen. He turned the kettle on again, since the water was cold already. While waiting on the water to be boiled, he glanced over at Sherlock who was just staring motionlessly at the floor.

John returned to the sofa with two cups of tea. He handed Sherlock the cup. Sherlock thanked John in a whisper. Sherlock tried to lift his cup, but he was still shaking and jerking, not able to lift the cup. John put down his own, and helped tip the cup into Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock's face burned in embarrassment. He had never needed someone to help him like this, not even his mother. John placed the cup on the table and looked concerned at Sherlock.

"Stop staring." Sherlock mumbled.

"I can't." John replied softly.

"How can you look at me. I'm a failure." Sherlock said, his voice not louder than a whisper. John frowned with a twist in his heart. That's why Sherlock was acting this way. He felt ashamed that he got abducted, that the abductors didn't get caught. He thought John was disappointed in him. John sighed sadly, taking Sherlock's hands in his.

"You are not a failure Sherlock." He soothed. "How can you call yourself a failure. You've been trying to find a serial killer for months. You worked so hard on this case. You've been helping plenty of people with solving cases, saving people their lives..." John trailed off. "And you saved me from being alone. You saved me Sherlock." He added quietly, an innocent blush blooming over his face. Sherlock looked up, into John's watery eyes. He smiled briefly before it went blank again.

"And I bloody missed you." John blurted out, the grip on Sherlock's hand tightening.

"I've missed you too." Sherlock said, looking down at his lap.