Your POV
You awoke sometime later, groggily you lifted your head up. You blinked a few times, before realising you weren't dreaming. You were indoors, sat on a sofa next to a fire. You glanced around, having no recollection of how you ended up here. The last thing you remember was the crime scene, it was a little blurry from there. You thought you saw someone you recognise, but it was hazy.
You glanced around the room, it was old fashioned in style, there was a mantle place to your left with creepy looking human skull on it. Across from you was another chair, and a dining table, piled high with documents and books, a violin was also placed there with some care. Behind was a window and you could see out into the street and the houses opposite.
You pulled yourself up with some effort, and groaned slightly all the dull ache in your shoulder returned. You suddenly became aware of the fact you were now sat in your army tank top- it has seen better days. You glanced at your shoulder
"Shit" you mumbled as you had a good look at it for the first time in possibly weeks. It was red and swollen as hell, with some frankly disgusting puss oozing out...not to mention the smell. You gagged a little, and looked up to your right.
You practically jumped out of your skin as you noticed someone laying on the sofa. It was Sherlock, laying just feet from you. He was dressed in a smart black suit, his eyes were closed as if he was sleeping. His curly tussle of hair, flopped on the arm of the sofa, and his fingers were pressed under his chin in a prayer like position. This was the first time you had seen him this close before, you were surprised at how handsome he was, but more to the point what were you doing in his flat?
You heard foot steps behind you and you froze.
"You're awake" the voice commented, walking in front of you and placing down a tray with some hot water, cotton balls, bandages and tweezers in front of you. The man looked at you warmly and smiled.
" We were worried about you for a while. You passed out at the crime scene, do you remember?" He asked sitting down opposite you. You nodded.
"Yes, but I don't remember much after that" you admitted.
" Not surprising seeing as you were unconscious" Sherlock muttered from the sofa, without so much as opening his eyes.
The man opposite you rolled his eyes.
"That's Sherlock, and I'm John" he paused " but I think somehow you knew that, what's your name?"
" F/N. F/N L/N" you answered " where am I?" John smiled at you. You glanced out of the window behind John.
" It's okay, you're safe. You're in our flat, 221b-
" Baker Street" you cut him off, John looked shocked.
" How did you know that?" John quizzed "Don't tell me you're a smart arse like him" John gestured towards Sherlock. You shook your head.
" I can see the street sign, out of your window from here" you replied quietly. Johns head snapped back towards the window, he peered outside. You could hear a faint chuckle coming from the sofa.
" She's observant" Sherlock commented. John looked back at you and cleared his throat.
" Well, Y/N your shoulder looks pretty bad, mind if I take a proper look at it?"
You flinched as he got up.
" It's alright, I'm a doctor" he reassured. Reluctantly you nodded and allowed John to examine your shoulder. He pressed in various places and you winced.
" looks like you have an infection in there, and one of your stitches is embedded, but it looks cut. I think we need to take it out, and clean your wound" he observed.
You nodded again, as John reached for the tweezers and the water.
You bit your lip as John began to dab some water on your shoulder with the cotton balls and began to pick at your stitches with the tweezers.
After a couple of moments you spoke up.
" I know, you are a doctor, you were also a solider in Afghanistan" you paused "like myself" you finished quietly. John hummed in acknowledgment.
" F/N LN" he muttered " I know that name"
" yeah, I was a rookie, so I doubt you would remember me. I was the youngest girl in my squad. You patched up a lot of my friends out there, I heard that you were a good doctor and solider"
" I can't have been that good, I was shot and sent home" John joked, as he began to pull on your stitches, that sent a fresh bold of pain surging through you. You gripped the sofa and clenched your jaw as you tried to remain still.
" When we heard you had been injured and sent home, it was a loss to all of us. We all missed you" you continued, trying to distract yourself from the pain "It was only six months later that I followed the same fate" you sighed.
You took a sharp intake of breath as John had managed pull out your stitch.
"Got it" he exclaimed, fresh blood began to trickle down your arm. It was most likely a placebo effect, but you felt a little better already. John applied a cotton ball on your wound, and he asked you to hold it, whilst he went into to kitchen to clean up.
" So where are you staying these days?" He called from the kitchen. You didn't answer. You could feel Sherlock looking at you. You stayed quiet.
" You staying in a hostel?" He pressed on.
" oh y'know...I just move from place to place" you lied through your teeth.
"Oh for god sake John, are you blind?" Sherlock snapped.
" It's perfectly obvious that she is homeless, just look at the state of her" he added. You shot Sherlock an angry look, and felt rather embarrassed.
John came back in holding a mug of hot water, and what looked like salt in a teaspoon.
" Well, I didn't want to presume" John replied. Setting down the mug and stirring the salt into the water.
"Look, it doesn't matter. Once you've finished cleaning this thing up, I'll be out of here" you answered dryly.
" Where will you go?" John asked, sounding concerned. You didn't meet his gaze and looked at your feet.
" I don't know yet" you admitted. "I'll find some place."
"Excellent" Sherlock exclaimed, standing up, you looked at him. " Well, we'll let John finish up and then you can be on your way" he smiled at you, but it didn't feel genuine in the least. You were stuck by how cold he was.
" Sherlock, we can't simply let Y/N go back out on the streets" John snapped back.
" Why not? She said herself: she'll find someplace"
" For one, Y/N's arm still needs to be treated and kept clean, and two, she is a fellow soldier. I simply won't cast her back out, with no place to stay" John shouted defensively. You felt a tear prick in your eyes, it was the first time in a very long time that anyone had showed you any compassion.
" What do you suggest then?" Sherlock huffed, looking annoyed now.
" Y/N will be staying here" John said defiantly
" I don't take in strays" Sherlock me mumbled. The two stared each other down. You stood up.
" Thank you John for helping me out, but I really can't stay, I-"
" It wasn't a request" John added, still looking at Sherlock. Sherlock let out a groan.
" Fine, she can stay" he mumbled, grabbing his coat and throwing on his scarf, before opening the door, and staring back at you with his icy blue eyes.
" But once she is better, she can find someplace else. I'll tell Mrs Hudson on my way down" he finished, slamming the door behind him.
You were silent for a moment, so grateful to John and pretty hurt by Sherlock.
John smiled at you.
" Don't take any notice of him" he reassured.
"John, thank you, but I don't have any money to pay for rent or-" he cut you off, laughing a little and shaking his head.
" I never asked for any repayment, us soldiers have to stick together after all"
You looked nervously towards the door, John followed your gaze.
"He'll be fine, he'll come round. First thing you need to know about Sherlock, is that he is a massive dick." You laughed a little at that remark.
"Welcome to 221b, Y/N".
