Needing You

Snowmen And Sherlock

John knew this was a bad idea. Really, he did. It's just that he didn't care. Which, in hindsight, may have been a mistake on his part. That's why he was lying in this alley. Also probably why he couldn't get up. Why had he decided to attack that criminal? Especially without Sherlock? He couldn't remember. Something was hurting. He's hit his leg and broken his head. Or was it the other way around? Broke his leg and hit his head? He doesn't remember, which should be worrying, but John can't bring himself to worry about anything. Is that bad? John's phone started to ring. The sound was annoying. It hurt his head. He reached out and read the slightly blurred letters. Sherlock. Oh, right. Sherlock was important. He accepted the call, hoping Sherlock would be kind enough to keep his voice down. Sherlock did not keep his voice down.
"John! John, are you alright? What happened! John? JOHN!" John was having trouble making out the exact words, but he could understand what Sherlock was saying.
"Shhh," John whispered, hoping Sherlock would shut up and come already. Sherlock's voice seemed to get quieter, which was a relief.
"John?" Sherlock's voice whispered. "John, are you alright? Are you hurt? Should I call Mycroft? John, please answer or else I will call Mycroft!" John had to giggle at Sherlock's funny words.
"'m fine, Lock." John said, surprised at how slurred his words were. "'m fine, really. There was a chase and a boom and now I seem to have hurt my leg and broken my head. No, wait," he thought hard about whether those were the right words. Did it even matter whether he used the right words? His Lock was smart. He would figure it out.
"John, stay right there, do you hear me? Right there, and don't move! Mycroft sent me your location and I'm coming!" The call ended. But Lock would be there soon. And that's good. John was tired. So tired and he was cold. Why was he cold? Oh, right, it was starting to snow. John liked snow. There wasn't much snow in Afghanistan, though, so that made him sad. But there is snow here. And Lock is coming. Maybe they could build a snowman. Like in that movie. Well, maybe they would have to wait for any snowman-building until John's head stopped being filled with fuzz. Maybe a nice nap would be good. Yes, a nap and then Lock would be there and then they could make snowmen. Lots and lots of snowmen.
"JOHN!" the voice cut through John's dreams. That was annoying. John liked the dreams. There were snowmen in them. Snowmen and Sherlock. Sherlock. Sherlock was the one who was talking.
"Heey, Lock." John slurred, his mouth half-buried in the snow. His coat was wet. Very wet. He would need a new one before they made snowmen. Sherlock picked John up and took off his coat. That was mean. Now John was even colder. But then John became warm again when he felt something soft around him. Sherlock's coat. John buried his head into Sherlock's shoulder and closed his eyes again. Now he could sleep and it was warm. As his last wisps of consciousness were whisked away on clouds the color of Sherlock's eyes, he heard Sherlock whisper,
"I love you." If John were awake, maybe he would have said it back.