ihadabadday | Into the Night - AU - Locked to seaweed

John did something that Sherlock may not have seen, or possibly suspected from him. He slammed his fist hard enough against the wall to crack the plaster. He stood there staring at Sherlock.

"Are you going to sulk over a god damn twisted ankle? You'll be fine. For fuck's sake. Is this because I told you how I felt? I thought you might feel the same. But if you're going to act like you don't want me anymore. Please, just tell me."

That made Sherlock jerk the paper down to search for the noise, which in this case was obviously from John. He really didn't care about how Mrs. Hudson was going to be pissed at the plaster right now, he was staring into the irate man's face.

He looked for a moment at John like he had two heads. "Obviously you have no idea how important The work is to me. And now I am going to be practically helpless for two weeks, and you expect me to be all sunshine and rainbows that it takes me half a bloody hour to get up the steps. I have to plan to go to the loo, because even that is a chore, and I haven't decided the best way to tackle a shower yet. "

"But, no, sulking about losing my source of income and my passion is obviously such a terrible disservice to you! Well, don't let me inconvenience you any more than I have to. Go. I'll be fine."

It was the most undignified retreat he had ever made, painfully and slowly getting to his feet, donning his crutches, and limping into the bedroom, slamming the door after him.

John sighed and his shoulders slumped. Well, he had smartly fucked that one up.

So he left.

He wasn't sure if it was for good or for a few hours. But he needed to clear his head. He needed to get out of the flat.

He ended up in a park on the other end of the city, not realizing how far he walked. He slumped down onto the bench and sighed. He sat, exhausted and angry at himself.

God, this was intolerable.

Not only had he driven away the man he cared for, but he couldn't even take his aggression out anywhere. Walking around on the crutches was painful and slow. He couldn't just waltz out to the living room and do experiments or take a walk, or find someone to give him a 7% solution to get his mind off of everything.

"Auuuuughhh!" He tugged at his hair and threw himself down onto the bed. He was stuck in the flat and he wanted to be anywhere but where he was now. His hands and ankle were throbbing with pain, it was long past time for his paracetamol, but he didn't even wanted to be arsed to get up for that.

John returned to the flat well after sundown. It had begun raining and he was soaked and freezing. Not that Sherlock would notice. He stepped into the foyer and stripped off his coat. He hung it up and toed off his shoes.

He sighed and made his way to the bathroom to take a hot shower. He turned on the water and let the steam fill the bathroom. John sat on the toilet, dropping his head into his hands.

What a mess.

Throughout the day Sherlock had puttered around the flat as best he could, managing to do some basic experiments on the kitchen table.

By the evening, he was exhausted from using the crutches, he had read in bed for a while and eventually drifted off into a light, still pained sleep.

He finished his shower and then stepped into their shared room. He swallowed when he saw Sherlock. John stepped over the bed and then gently sat on the edge.

He touched Sherlock's mussed curls and gently stroked them. "I'm sorry for snapping at you. You're hurting and frustrated and it wasn't right of me to yell at you like that."

His eyes were still closed, but he moved closer to the warmth of John's body, curling himself around him. He didn't speak, just made a low rumbling noise that didn't really sound like anything at all. his breathing deepened and his body relaxed.

John smiled and shifted a bit to lean back against the headboard. He carefully moved Sherlock to be comfortable. He didn't care that he was just in a towel. He settled back, closing his eyes.

As soon as John got into bed, Sherlock imitated an octopus and wrapped three of his four limbs around John, keeping his injured ankle straight and propped up on the pillow.

Finally... finally he was able to settle into a comfortable enough position with John close to him that he fell into a deep sleep that lasted through the night.

John woke in the morning, feeling a touch sore. But he would have slept like that again for Sherlock. He smiled at the other man and stroked his hair.

It was a stupid fight and he hated that they did it.

"Mmmmmmm"' Sherlock was still mostly asleep, but he turned over towards John, a soft smile on his face.

John leaned down and kissed his head. "I love you." He whispered to the man, "So much. I am glad we encountered each other."

" 'm youuu" Sherlock grumbled back, trying to scoot closer.

Unfortunately, Sherlock was too asleep to think about not moving his bad leg. He shifted it and immediately bolted up, yelping in pain.

"Sherlock!" He said in shock as the man cried out. John shifted to look at his ankle. It seemed okay. He then looked at his partner. "When did you take your painkillers last?"

Sherlock bit his lip hard enough to taste blood. Pain shot throughout his body, making his vision blurry. It felt like someone had tried to rip his foot off at the ankle.

"Night..." he moaned through gritted teeth, but a simple paracetamol was not going to stop this pain.

John bit his lip and swallowed. "Sherlock, can you straighten your leg out?" He asked.

"Ahhhhhh!!!' Sherlock straightened out his leg and finished rolling onto his back. He was dizzy with the pain, nausea was rising like bile up his throat, but he fought it back.

He knew that in time the pain would fade, but it was hard to think about that right now when all he could think about was the pain.

"I... n-n-eed something.. s-s-even percent s-s-s-tronger.... " He groaned, shutting his eyes so tight he could feel the moisture forming in the corners.

John let out a breath. He'd seen Sherlock's medical records. He'd seen the history of drug use. He couldn't. But his partner was in pain.

Fuck.

"Why don't you try the painkillers prescribed first?" He suggested.

"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.

Into the Night - AU - Locked to seaweed_writes

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