ihadabadday | Into the Night - AU - Locked to seaweed

"D-d-on't work.... built.. up. resistance..." His history of drug use meant that he would need much larger than the prescribed dose to put a dent in this pain. And if he did that, he would almost certainly have to go through withdrawal, and his prescription wouln't last near long enough with the amount that he would have to take.

John shook his head. "That could be dangerous." He said softly, "I can't risk it. Not... Not with your history."

John didn't care that he was in recovery. He just wanted Sherlock to stay there.

Sherlock closed his eyes even tighter. There was nothing that could be done. The pain was almost unbearable, but he will have to endure it, he knew it now. It was going to be horrible, and he didn't want John to see it.

"John. G-g-go." He was about to be at his worst, and he wouldn't subject the man to it.

"No." He said stubbornly, "I'm going to be here for you."

John touched Sherlock's cheek gently. "I love you. I don't care what it will be like. I'm staying here."

"NO!" He yelled out, shaking his head. Sweat was already forming on his brow, and his face was scrunched in pain.

"Don't...see. me.. like this!" He tried to shove John away, but there was no power behind it, considering he had to lay perfectly still on his back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling to even infinitesimally lessen the pain.

John didn't move. He simply stayed where he was. He was going to see through this. To be there for Sherlock. He had to be. He wanted to be.

Sherlock went still and shut his eyes. He tried to let himself drift away into his Mind Palace, the place where he could, for a short time at least, leave his body and fall into his own mind.

But the pain was too great, he just couldn't do it, so he lay there, sweating and grunting in pain wishing like hell someone would just cut his right leg off at the ankle and be done with it. He had no idea how long he was going to have to suffer, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to take it.

John got him water and light food that he managed to keep down. The former doctor didn't sleep. He was used to it. Having been up for days at a time when on call or in Afghanistan.

He was dozing at one hm point, just a moment to close his eyes and recover.

Sherlock nibbled and drank a bit, but he knew that he'd have to get up to use the loo, and he wanted to stall that for as long as he could.

He drifted in and out of his mind palace over the rest of the afternoon and evening. That night John was dozing a bit while he, though exhausted, stared at the ceiling and tried not to think about his bladder that had actually gone beyond painful now. He new he was risking actual damage by not going to the loo, and thought about the half empty glass that was on the bedside table, but even that was too far.

He was either going to have to piss himself- not an option, or get up and try to use the loo.

Sherlock shifted a bit, biting his lip to stop crying out in pain with even the slightest movement.

He managed to scoot himself a few inches closer towards the side of the bed, but the pain, which had been fading ever so slightly was now returned twofold.

John woke out of his doze and was up. "Hey, what do you need?" he asked softly.

He wanted to take Sherlock's pain away. It wasn't fair to the man that he was going through this. But he knew he couldn't.

Sherlock flushed just the slightest bit.

"I.. need to use the loo, John." He admitted, closing his eyes and looking away from John. He hated to admit something like that.

"Alright."

John got up, having at some point donned pants. He helped Sherlock up, taking most of the man's weight. He was a lot stronger than he looked. Some would say compact.

He helped Sherlock into the bathroom. "Do you want me to stay or wait outside?" John asked.

It was a painful trip to the loo, and it was terribly embarrassing, but he had to sit on the toilet and point himself down inside of the bowl.

He was mortified and embarrassed enough, he honestly didn't care whether John was there or not. He couldn't possibly get more embarrassed.

Sherlock shrugged his shoulders at John's questions and let himself go, sighing in relief.

To provide Sherlock some semblance of privacy, he turned his back. He had seen much worse, experienced much worse.

He sighed softly, wanting to help the man, heal the man. But he was stuck. He was ordinary, boring.

He flushed, and leaned over enough so he could wash his hands.

Sherlock sighed. "Alright. I am done John." God, he just wanted to get back into bed and cover his head and forget that that last 24 hours had even happened. This was the worst.

John helped him up and let the man straighten himself before going back to the bed.

He helped Sherlock lay down and then sat next to the man. "How's your pain?"

Sherlock grimaced as he was helped up, back to the bed, and settled back down. All the movement had, of course made the pain ramp up yet again. He was biting his lip to keep from crying out.

He sighed when he was settled finally, knowing that eventually it would fade back into a dull roar.. eventually.

He shrugged his shoulders and kept his eyes closed, he was getting a migraine from all the pain and stress and light just made it worse.

John bit his lip and got Sherlock the painkillers. He dosed out two and set them on the bedside table along with a bottle of water.

"I'm going to run to the store. I'll turn out the lights. Try and get some rest." He then left the room.

Sherlock took the 2 Paracetamol with a small amount of water, then leaned his head back and closed his eyes, nodding silently to John.

With the pain that he was in, he seriously doubted that he would be able to sleep, but it was blessedly warm and dark and quiet, and he found himself flicking in and out of sleep.

John had started looking for work in clinics and hospitals once more once Sherlock had healed up. He was glad, that had been a rather stressful several weeks. He, at times, wanted nothing more than to punch his partner. But he kept his temper in check. After a few weeks of looking, he found a job at a small clinic. He was happy to be working in his field again.

He came home after a shift. "Sherlock? Are you here?"

It had been hell when he was injured, and it seemed forever before he finally started to get better, but eventually he was back on his feet again, literally and figuratively.

It seemed like no sooner was Sherlock better than John decided that he didn't want to stay around, which of course only annoyed Sherlock more. That meant that now that he was finally able to be more.. active again.. they would have even less time between John's work and his own detective work.

Sherlock was in the middle of an experiment on a cow's brain in the kitchen when he heard John come in.

"No, John. I am dead." He quipped.

"Okay. I was wondering, corpse of my love, do you want Chinese or Thai tonight?" He asked as he walked into the kitchen. He kissed the back of Sherlock's head before starting the kettle for some tea.

The timing sucked, yes, but he liked the work he did. Helping people, especially when they were scared and sick.

Sherlock shrugged. He was frustrated- both that he had barely seen John in the last week, and that his experiment was not going the way he was hoping.

"Don't care." He rumbled, then went back to slicing another small chunk of the cow's brain to look under the microscope.

John sighed and nodded. "Alright. I'm going to go shower..."

He then retreated to the bathroom. Were things unraveling now? Was Sherlock uninterested?

Sherlock made a "Hmmmm" noise in the affirmative and went back to his work.

By the time that John was out of the shower, Sherlock had already given up on getting anything else done with regards to the cow brain. He was in his chair, with his laptop on his lap, typing away noisily at several websites at once.

Into the Night - AU - Locked to seaweed_writes

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