The Accident

Chapter One

John, we need you immediately. -GL

John looked down at his phone, and wondered why in the world Lestrade would need him... Sherlock.

Where is he? -J. Watson

Bart's, but he's a patient this time. -GL

John's eyes widened.

What happened?

He was attacked by a gang; he got 3 bullet wounds and a stab wound. He also got quite a few cuts and bruises.

John dropped what he was doing and sprinted out of 221B.

I'll be there as soon as possible

Good, he's been droning on about you for the past hour. -GL

John hurriedly climbed into the cab and practically yelled the address at the cabbie. "Alright, calm down, I don't want us to die." the cab driver replied after John asked him to go faster.

Where is he?! -J. Watson

Room 170 -GL

John sprinted inside the hospital and raced up the stairs as fast as humanly possible. He walked down the hall way, his shoes clacking on the linoleum floor. "168...169...170." John muttered aloud as he reached Sherlock's door.

"Sherlock!" John called as he entered the room. Sherlock was in the hospital bed, wires were attached all over his body, and an IV came out of his left hand. He was shirtless, and bandages were wrapped around his bare chest. Bruises and cuts littered his arms, and he had a cut running along his right cheek bone. But that wasn't John's major concern; but his bloody leg was. The bandages were wrapped tightly around his right leg, but blood was still leaking through them, staining the white sheets.

"Jawwwwn!" Sherlock replied.

John walked over and began to check Sherlock's bandages, making sure the doctors had done it right this time (long story). "John, I'm fine." Sherlock said, seeing the look of concentration and concern on John's face. John looked up at Sherlock and cocked an eyebrow. "Oh really mister, I don't need to help?"

Sherlock paused for a moment. "...No, you don't need to help."

John rolled his eyes. "Yes I do you foolish git." He said, continuing to examine the doctor's handy work.

"No, you don't." John looked up, seeing a look of genuine concern on Sherlock's face, he stopped what he was doing. "Why?" he asked.

"I don't want you worrying yourself over me." he replied. John chuckled. "I'll never be able to not worry about you."

"Well you should learn to." Sherlock replied arrogantly. "And you should learn to trust others." John countered. "I don't need to." Sherlock replied.

John rolled his eyes. "Do you really feel so superior that you don't need assistance occasionally?" John asked. "All other people are idiots, except for you of course." Sherlock replied. John looked away. "Hmmm."

"Everyone thinks I'm a freak anyways, so they wouldn't want to help me even if I asked." Sherlock explained, hoping that this made John feel a little better.

"Sherlock..." John trailed off, his face getting redder.

"Yes?" Sherlock asked, but received no reply. "What is it John?"

John turned back to face the consulting detective, and crashed his lips into Sherlock's, but only for a second. Sherlock's eyes widened in surprise and his face slowly began to redden. "...John?" he said, his voice faltering. "Mmhmm?" John hummed. "W-what was that for?" Sherlock stuttered.

"To show that someone cares for you." John replied nonchalantly. Sherlock smiled. "Well it worked." He replied. John chuckled.

There was a soft knock at the door, and the men turned to look at it. The door opened and in stepped John's ex-girlfried, Sarah. She smiled brightly at both of them. Her smile faltered for a second when she saw Sherlock's leg, but she didn't let it show. "Dr. Watson, can I talk to you outside for a moment?" she asked, fixing her gaze on the blonde man.

"Of course." John said, slipping out of the chair he was sitting in. He kissed Sherlock's forehead before he left. Sarah smiled brightly at John as the stepped into the white hallway. She closed the door behind her and her smile dropped. John's brows furrowed in confusion.

"Well..." Sarah said, nervously rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. "There's been some complications..."