Watson helped Sherlock to his bed, laying him down carefully. Sherlock fell heavily onto the sheets, his face pale. His shirt hung in tatters, and was so drenched with blood that it was almost impossible to tell how many wounds he'd received. Watson knew he had to act quickly. He left the room, but a moment later he was back. He pulled off Sherlock's coat and shirt, ignoring the blood that ran down Sherlock's sides and stained the bedclothes red. Sherlock watched him through half-shut eyes, never once looking away from Watson's face. He knew that he had to stay focused. If he passed out now, he might never wake up again.
"This is going to hurt," Watson said. "You ready?"
Sherlock gave a small nod. Watson poured the disinfectant on the wounds, causing Sherlock to breathe harshly through clenched teeth. But Watson was already wrapping his midsection with bandages. By the time he was done, the blood flow had slowed, and a little color had come back to Sherlock's face. Watson turned away. He got up, leaving the room for a minute to wash his hands. When he came back, Sherlock was still watching him. Watson sat down on the end of the bed, keeping his back turned. Sherlock didn't have to see his face to know how upset he was. He opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment Watson raised his head and glared at Sherlock, causing the detective to flinch at the coldness of it and shut his mouth.
"I keep telling you to be careful," Watson said. His voice was quiet and dangerous. "But do you ever listen to me? Oh no, you never do! You just walk right in with so much as a second thought! Do you have a death wish, Sherlock Holmes? Do you have any idea what it would do to me if you were killed?"
As Watson continued to speak, his voice gradually became louder until he was practically shouting. Tears began forming in his eyes, and on the last word his voice broke. Sherlock dropped his gaze as Watson put a hand to his face, trying to hold back the torrents of emotion that were crashing into each other in his chest. For a minute there was total silence, until it was broken by a soft rustle of sheets. Slowly, carefully, Sherlock crawled over to where Watson was sitting. He lay with his head in Watson's lap, before slowly reaching up and touching his arm. Watson moved his hand away, and Sherlock smiled up at him. He looked so sweet like that, and Watson couldn't find it in himself to stay angry at that face. The longer he looked at that innocent expression, the more his rage ebbed away.
"I'm sowwy," Sherlock said, his voice adopting a childish manner. "Don't cry, please. I didn't mean to scare you."
He paused for a moment in thought, then surprised Watson as he pulled himself up into a sitting position. Upset forgotten for the moment, Watson steadied him.
"Hey, don't move around so much-"
He wasn't able to finish his sentence. Sherlock kissed him, wrapping his arms tightly around Watson's middle. The action caught Watson off guard for a moment, and he mentally scolded himself. Dammit. I should've seen this coming. He couldn't let himself get swept away. At least, not yet. He pulled back slightly, giving Sherlock a stern look.
"Don't think you're getting off the hook with this," he said.
Sherlock grinned. "Just shut up and kiss me."
Well, not bad, eh? That's all for this part, folks! XD
