Slipping Through My Fingers (A JohnLock One-Shot)

Summary: Set during Sherlock Series 1 Episode 3. What if after the explosion at Baker Street, Sherlock was actually injured?
Small warning for kissing!

John Watson smiled fondly as Sarah went for a shower and he turned on the news. He watched for a few moments before the news subject changed and a bold caption came on.

'Explosion at Baker Street' it screamed and John's smile disappeared ‘Consulting Detective Sherlock Holmes yet to be found’

John leaned forward in shock. And without even realising it, he was grabbing his coat and sprinting out the door

"Sorry Sarah, I going to have to miss breakfast!" he barked a little harshly and slammed the door behind him.
He quickly made his way to Baker Street. 221B was surrounded by police, he ignored them and pushed through

"Sherlock? Sherlock!" he barked as he jogged up the stairs to his shared apartment. He heard a cough come from inside the flat and burst through the doors, out of breath and eyes wide the panic
John finally saw Sherlock lying under a lot rubble. A cut on his forehead dripping blood down his face; he coughed again.

"Oh my god" John breathed and rushed over to his flatmate "Sherlock? Sherlock can you hear me?"

Why the hell was nobody here?

Sherlock’s icy blue eyes blinked open.

"J'hn...?" Sherlock mumbled and John threw the rubble off of his friend

"I'm here." John confirmed.  Sherlock groaned in pain and relief
John eventually managed to get all of the rubble off of his friend, taking great care with removing the one on his leg, and then went to work on the injuries just Lestrade ran up the stairs

"Call an Ambulance!" John shouted without looking as he tried to stop the bleeding. Wherever it was coming from. He accidentally nudged Sherlock's mangled leg and the taller man screamed in agony.

"I’m so sorry." John grimaced apologetically and regrettably. Though he wasn't sure the curly-haired man could hear him anyway. Sherlock's eyes were wet with what appeared to be tears and he cried out once John rolled him carefully onto his back.

"M-My ribs!" Sherlock gasped, eyes screwing shut and his breathing erratic and John cursed. Lestrade had dropped the call and the ambulance was on its way.

"Sherlock? Sherlock stay awake for me please OK?" John said and Lestrade watched worriedly from the side, not knowing what to do and not wanting to interrupt whatever was happening. Sherlock gave a weak nod, opening his glassy pupils.

"O-ok..." Sherlock's breaths were wheezed and tears pricked at the corners of his eyes at the agony he was currently feeling. John couldn’t see his friend in this state so he wiped the tears away, whispering that everything would be fine. The ambulance arrived a few painful minutes later. Blue lights flashing and sirens wailing. Despite the new noises, Sherlock's eyes began to droop and John's eyes widened

"Nononono! Sherlock!" he yelled “Don’t sleep, not now! Just wait!” They opened tiredly again to look at John. The medics ran into the room and without a second to waste, loaded the injured detective onto the stretcher and his eyes broadened and he held out a hand for John to take, his features silently pleading. John took the man’s hand without hesitation.
They rushed into the ambulance, Lestrade standing outside of it and hoping that Sherlock would be fine, and John sat on a chair next to Sherlock and he never let go of his hand.
Along the ride, Sherlock’s eyes fluttered closed. John's eyes enlarged as the pulse monitor of Sherlock's heartbeat began to slow

"Sherlock!" He tapped his friends face. Sherlock gave no reaction and the pulse monitor stopped beeping. The medics immediately took action and tried to start his heart. John's breathing was panicked and he was tugging at his hair in desperation.
The heart monitor beeped again. And again. And continued to do so.

"Oh my god" John breathed, his hands falling out of his hair and coming to rest on his legs. The medics sighed. Making sure he was going to be stable for the rest of the journey and they sat down. John ran a hand across his face

"He'll be ok." One of the medics said gently, squeezing his shoulder gently all John could do was nod; his skin was a pale with shock and he could have sworn his hair had turned grey

They got to the hospital a few minutes later and Sherlock was rushed into surgery.
John was told to stay out of the room as they started to operate on Sherlock so he paced outside of the room, his breathing nowhere near calm. It was a good, heart-stopping half an hour before he could see Sherlock. John immediately walked past the nurse when she had said so and planted himself at Sherlock's side. His flatmate was unconscious but looked better than he had done. On impulse, John grabbed Sherlock's hand and squeezed it lightly, wanting to know he was actually there and the other shifted in his sleep. John sighed in liberation and checked over his friend just to see if there was anything that the nurses had missed, they were thorough and had missed nothing
John nodded and got comfortable in his chair, it would be while until Sherlock would wake. Sighing, he rubbed his face

"What the hell happened?" He wondered quietly aloud as he rested on his arms on the bed and then rested his head on that. The quiet beep of the heart monitor was drowned out by a knock on the door and John looked up

"Come in" he rasped

Mycroft Holmes gracefully entered the room. Eyes resting over the broken form of his brother; yet giving no emotion away.

"I heard that he was blown up." He said simply

"Is that all you can say?" John laughed bitterly, his voice dripping with anger

"What could I say?" Mycroft mused, a cocky eyebrow raised

"Oh I don't know, 'Is my brother OK?' or 'I just came to check if my brother hadn't died on his way to hospital' which he most certainly did" John seethed

"Ah. Right. I'm sure he wouldn't mind if he were conscious."

"He's your brother Mycroft!" John would have been shouting by now if it weren’t for the sleeping detective

"Oh really? I hadn't noticed." Mycroft joked bitterly

"How can you actually be so heartless?" John spat

"Believe it or not, John, I do care about him."

"Then why in the first time in your life, will you just let it show?" Mycroft shrugged.

"One day."

"Then let today be the day" John snapped

"He's been through worse." Mycroft shook his head

"How can this not be the worst?!" Mycroft chuckled darkly.

"Tales for another day." John clenched his jaw and then looked back at Sherlock

"You care for him" Mycroft noted

"Of course I do" John snarled severely

"That’s good." Mycroft nodded and John rolled his eyes, rubbing circles into Sherlock's hand not noticing the older Holmes showing the ghost of a smile.

"Goodbye John."

"Goodbye" John said without looking as Mycroft walked out of the room. John sighed as he heard the door click shut. He got back into the position he was in earlier and closed his eyes, Sherlock shifting again. John slowly fell into an uncomfortable sleep, knowing his friend was still breathing


~~~~~


John jolted awake a few hours later to the sound of screaming.

He was disorientated for a few moments before he focused and realised it was the man on the bed screaming. A nightmare. His eyes widened and he grabbed Sherlock's flailing limbs.                                                                                                                        
"Sherlock! Sherlock!" he cried desperately "Wake up!"            
                         
"John!" Sherlock yelled in his sleep "JOHN!" The solider had no option; he pulled Sherlock into a tight and warm embrace hoping for Sherlock to wake up out of his sleep. After a moment Sherlock’s shouts stopped. He was awake

"John?" he called out and looked down at the soldier "John?" he repeated desperately      
"Yeah" was all John said and Sherlock buried his head in the other's shoulder, sobbing like a child

"It was a dream. It's ok now..." John breathed

Sherlock was gripping onto John's shoulders like a lifeline as he let out the most heart-wrenching sobs John had ever heard. He wondered what could have been so bad that it made a grown man cry. Especially since that grown man was Sherlock Holmes.

"Shh... Sherlock it's OK. You're safe, I'm here. I’m always here" John soothed the best he could.

Eventually, Sherlock calmed. He was still sniffling but he still did not let the smaller man go. Not that John minded.

"Do you want to talk about it?" John asked after a few minutes of quiet sniffing and short intakes of breath. Sherlock drew a shuddering breath. He nodded after some thought. He did not pull away and John brought him a little closer

"Y-you left..." Sherlock choked out after a few deep breaths "A-and you weren't coming back... and then one day I saw you again... something happened and-and I tried to save you, I did! But I was too late... I'm always too late!" Sherlock was close to tears again

"I won't leave Sherlock. It was only a dream. Ok? Everything's fine." John’s eyes softened and he swayed gently

"Promise?"  Sherlock sniffed pitifully

"I promise Sherlock." Satisfied, Sherlock snuggled John’s shoulder and rested his head on it. John took a deep breath and smiled

"Stay...?" Sherlock asked and John chuckled lightly

“I will, Sherlock, I will” Sherlock yawned as John began to hum a little. Sherlock listened intently,  eyes drooping. John smiled and rubbed the taller man’s back; slowly lying him down on the bed. Sherlock slipped into sleep

John smiled and rested on his arms falling asleep as well, his hand still holding Sherlock's.


~~~~~


Sherlock went on to make a full recovery. He was allowed home after three days but had to wear many casts; much to his displeasure AND on top of that, be needed a wheelchair for at least week and had to be wheeled around by John. It was rather unsavoury. He also couldn’t go on cases.
John had just chuckled and said that at least the both of them could have a break but Sherlock pouted nevertheless

"Come on let's go home” Sherlock sighed in defeat

"Ok."

The ride back to Baker Street was short and uneventful, but the problem would be getting up the stairs. By this time, the flat was fixed, thanks to Mycroft, windows had been replaced, the wall had been put back and those items damaged beyond repair were replaced and put back to where they were before the explosion.

“How are we going to do this..." John sighed

"One step at a time?" Sherlock offered, pun most likely intended. John nodded and attempted to get Sherlock up the stairs with an arm around his neck and the other supporting his back in case he fell backwards.

It took a lot of effort but after 10 minutes of struggling and only scaling a mere 2 steps, John gave up.  He picked Sherlock up quickly, but gently, bridal-style and despite the taller man's barked profanities and protests, John managed to get to that flat in less time than it took to go up one stair. He dumped Sherlock carefully on the couch and went to retrieve the wheelchair.
As John travelled back downstairs, Sherlock couldn’t help but feel slightly embarrassed about what bad just occurred but, being the professional that he was, he didn’t let it show.

Much.
His cheeks were pink with embarrassment and he hid it with his scarf. John came up a few minutes later with the wheelchair, leaving it folded by the door.

"You OK?" He asked politely and Sherlock nodded a little quickly. "Good. Let me help you get that coat off."

Sherlock sighed as John pulled his coat off. Admittedly not being able to do it himself but he hated the feeling of being completely useless. John had removed the jacket gently and folded it, placing it at the foot of the couch.

"Right, let's get that leg up." He mumbled and delicately lifted Sherlock's injured leg and rested on the cushions on the couch, the other hissing in discomfort

"Sorry." John apologised swiftly and Sherlock just grunted in response
"I'm going to make some tea, would you like some?" John asked as he headed for the kitchen and Sherlock nodded enthusiastically, he would love an actual cup than the horrible liquid at the hospital. John chuckled and walked to the kitchen, flicking the kettle on. Sherlock sighed and relaxed into the couch, deciding to get comfortable, he would be sitting no this couch for a while. His gaze drifted to the newly fixed living room and the memories of being stuck under the debris, fearing death came back and he tensed.

John had made the tea, and came back a few minutes later after leaving and passed a cup to Sherlock. He thanked the soldier stiffly, his eyes ripping from where they were staring and sipped the liquid shakily. John sat in his chair and he raised an eyebrow as he noticed Sherlock’s hands were shaking and his jaw was clenched, the rest of his body taught

"Sherlock?" John questioned. Growing slightly worried. Sherlock looked at him for a few tense moments and placed the cup on a nearby table to prevent it spilling. John stared at his friend.

"I'm fine." Sherlock sniffed rigidly

"No you're not." John said, placing his tea down as Sherlock clenched his fists
"You can tell me, what's the matter?" John moved and placed a hand on his injured mentally hurting flatmate’s fist. Sherlock moved from Johns touch

"Sherlock." John said a little sternly "Don't try and push me away when I know something's wrong." Sherlock sighed. Not looking at John.

"Look at me, Sherlock." John said softly and Sherlock did. John looked into his eyes

"Tell me what's wrong, Sherlock. I'm here to listen." Sherlock sighed again.

"Fine..." he growled, but the word was not harsh but sorrowful

"When...” Sherlock began, swallowing the lump in his throat “the bomb...  exploded. And I was under the rubble, I was... scared..." John tilted his head

"It's normal to be scared, Sherlock!" Sherlock was still tense despite John’s words

"And..." he continued hesitantly "I... I..."

"What?" John asked kindly

"I couldn't stop thinking about YOU" Sherlock spluttered out, looking away, ashamed. John paused before smiling at his friend.

"I thought it was something serious." Sherlock clenched his jaw. This WAS serious! John lost the smile.

"I was so worried..." he said sincerely and Sherlock nodded slowly, looking at his hands which John reached for tenderly. He grasped them tightly and Sherlock looked at him, more tears forming in his eyes

"Shhh... It’s ok" John soothed

Sherlock started shaking a little more and he covered his mouth as he choked on a sob, thinking about when he was stuck under the rubble, on the brink of death and the only person he could think about now sitting in front of him. John stood up from where he was kneeling and pulled Sherlock into another hug. Sherlock embraced John back, still sobbing pitifully.
John couldn’t stand seeing his friend like this; he manoeuvred himself so he was sitting under Sherlock and the taller man was sitting on his lap and sobbing into his chest. The soldier stroked Sherlock's hair and rubbed his back with equal gentleness.  Sherlock continued to cry into his friend’s chest. Letting out everything that he held back since the accident and even since years gone by.

"It's alright Sherlock... It's ok" John whispered into the detective’s ear. Sherlock didn't reply.

He couldn't.

John didn't resist when Sherlock wrapped his long arms around John's waist at last and clutched at him tightly, his sobs coming to a slow
But only by a little.
They sat like that for a good while until Sherlock calmed enough to let John go. John cradled Sherlock's face in his hands and looked him in the eyes  
                     
"Are you alright?" he asked calmingly and Sherlock drew in a sharp breath before nodding weakly

John smiled lightly and then he realised how close he and Sherlock were. He blushed a little and Sherlock tilted his head slightly.
He paused for a split second before leaning in and kissing the blonde softly.
John's eyes widened as he felt Sherlock's soft lips on his own and froze. It took him a second to comprehend what was happening before he just kissed back, hands moving to cup the back of Sherlock's head. Sherlock did the same. Hands moving to pull John the little bit closer. John tangled his fingers into Sherlock's curls and closed his eyes, the taller man still kissing him with passion. They both pulled away a minute later, breathless and cheeks red. Sherlock's eyes widened as he had realised what he had done and he covered his mouth

"John... John I am so sorry... I-I don't know what came over me" he stuttered

"Whoa..." John breathed deeply. "T-that’s ok, Sherlock...."  John honestly didn't mind. He knew he kissed back. Hell, he loved it.

"No, no, I was stupid, you have Sarah!" Sherlock bawled, covering his face with his hands "I'm stupid!" John tilted his head. Why did Sherlock react like this? He put a hand on either side of Sherlock's face and removed the hands covering those gorgeous electric eyes,

"Sherlock, I kissed back" John chuckled, kissing Sherlock's cheek pulling back. Sherlock stared at John in amazed happiness.

"Really?" he stammered

"Of course I did Sherlock!" John laughed and pulled Sherlock into a fiery and loving kiss. Sherlock gasped as he was pulled into another kiss. All fear disappeared a millisecond later he kissed back. John smiled as Sherlock inhaled in shock for a split second before kissing back with no less enthusiasm. Eventually the two men parted. Both breathing heavily. John was grinning and Sherlock was smiling breathlessly.
They stared into each other’s eyes. Sherlock slumped back into his chair again. A small wince of pain escaped as his still tender ribs moved. John's smile flickered a little and he moved his hands to the bottom of Sherlock's shirt, asking for permission. Sherlock nodded and John lifted Sherlock's shirt to check the ribs

"Healing well." John reported. Sherlock nodded, yawning a little

"Tired?" John asked and Sherlock nodded sleepily and cuddled to John, seemingly keen with just lying there. John smiled and pulled Sherlock into another embrace. Sherlock nuzzled John's neck and wrapped his arms around his blogger

"I'm so glad you did that" John breathed and Sherlock chuckled sleepily. John just smirked and stroked Sherlock's dark curls. The detective fell into a relaxed sleep
John followed soon after. Mrs Hudson walking up a few minutes later before her eyes widened and she tiptoed downstairs, but not before covering her boys with a blanket.

“’Get all sorts around here” she chuckled quietly as she left