The Third Holmes - A Sherlock Fanfic

Worry

“Jesus! Sherlock!” John said worried.
There was a noise upstairs. “Avery!” John yelled, “I need your help.”
A few seconds later Avery appeared. She swore, and said “Sherlock!” as she hurried to them. She placed her hand on his forehead. “What happened?”
“He just came in and collapsed.”
“Freaking hell, Sherlock,” she said. “You’re an idiot.”
Sherlock muttered something.
She sighed. “John, let’s get him upstairs.”
After a bit of working they managed to get him upstairs, where they dropped him on the couch. Avery went and got some ice, to place on some of the various lacerations to his face.
“What happened?” John asked.
“He was attacked,” Avery filled in. “Two men. Professionals. See?” she pointed at marks. “Two different instruments are used. Could be an ambidextrous man, but doubtful, one of them needed to help hold him down. Sherlock’s not an easy man to attack,” she said with a hint of pride. “I wonder who it was. They obviously didn’t want him to survive.” She said this as detachedly as Sherlock would’ve. John felt slightly disgusted. Her brother was obviously hurt, and she was standing there analysing.
Sherlock coughed. “Three…” he murmured.
“What?” John asked.
“Three…men. One was the boss…the man I was following.”
Avery leant in and tapped his nose. “You got slack.”
He coughed again. “True. Water?”
She sighed and went and got him a glass. She ran her hand through his hair as he drank it.
“Next time leave a note, okay?”
Sherlock gave a small laugh, and grunted.
John looked at him worried. “Do you need a doctor?”
Both Holmes looked at him incredulously. John blushed. “Oh. Right.”
Well they couldn’t blame him for forgetting! It was two in the morning, and he hadn’t got any sleep. Plus it had been a stressful day. True, he’d had worse, but he’d almost become reaccustomed to London’s ‘peace’. He started looking over Sherlock’s wounds. “Does that hurt?”
Sherlock made a noise. “I’ll take that as a yes. Hmm, at least four broken ribs and maybe a broken bone in the left arm, but I can’t be sure till we get an x-ray. There are also several cuts on the face, neck and arms. Also,” he added jokingly, “the shirt will never be the same again.”
Avery smiled at him, but her eyes were wide, and suddenly John realised just how worried she was. She had spent the whole day hiding it, but now that her brother was lying wounded in front of her, it was close to the surface. He shot her a concerned look, but she looked away, and kissed Sherlock’s forehead. “I hate you,” she whispered.
“No you don’t,” he said.
She sighed. “No. I don’t.”
He gave a laugh and faded back into unconsciousness.