A/N: About to watch The Sign of Three gah I'm excited. Sorry for the last chapter. Things will start to get better in this one I promise. Don't hate me. This chapter at least has John and Sherlock together. And no more Moriarty for a few chapters. Just happy Johnlock feels I promise.
I hope this chapter makes up for the last one a little bit. I'm still sorry. Don't stop loving me.
Sherlock's P.O.V.
"I'm fine really. I don't need a wheelchair! I just need a little help from John! What do you mean he's not allowed past this point? Get off me! John!"
"I'm here, Sherlock! I'll see you in a little bit. They need to fix your ribs and hand first."
Hospitals. I hate hospitals. Spent too much time in them as a kid. The bright lights, white everything, doctors with faces hidden by masks. It's too sterile (which I guess is the point in a hospital, but I still don't like it). A few nurses try to get me to get onto a gurney. I fight them for a minute until another nurse sedates me. It takes another couple of minutes until everything goes fuzzy...
-later-
I wake up in a hospital bed. My chest is bandaged and my entire hand is in a cast. How am I supposed to function with this thing? It's like having a club at the end of my arm. In some scenarios, that could be helpful, but not in daily life.
"Oh thank God you're awake. I've been so worried about you."
John quickly gets up from his chair by the bed. He leans down to hug me gently before lightly punching my good arm.
"That's for leaving without telling me and getting yourself hurt."
John then leans down and kisses me, being careful to avoid my tender nose and eye.
"And that is because I was worried sick about you and I'm glad you're alive."
"I wouldn't just die on you that easily."
"You know, you can really be a proper wanker sometimes."
"But you love me anyway." I say with a pained cough.
"Are you alright? They didn't find anything wrong with your lungs. It's still pretty bad though. Want me to call the nurse and ask for more pain killers?"
"Not if they make me pass out. I want to talk to you."
"Trust me, I want to talk too. I'll call the nurse, you just relax."
A few minutes later, a nurse walks in and adds more painkillers to the IV bag. John steps out into the hall to talk to her, undoubtedly about my condition and when I can leave the hospital.
"Good news. The nurse says that if you're still stable, you can leave the hospital tomorrow morning. She said that under normal circumstances, they would make you stay longer, but since you'll be in the care of a doctor you can recover at home."
"That is good news. I hate hospitals."
"I know. You should just rest. We can talk when we get home."
"But John..."
"Nope. No buts. You're resting."
"Fine."
Soon after I closed my eyes, I felt the haze of the painkillers start to take over. I vaguely remember being conscious part of the time and asleep the rest. I can only assume that I was mumbling nonsense during the times I was awake (in a sense). The only thing I remember fully is John never leaving my side for however many hours were spent that way.
-the next morning-
"'Morning, love. I just checked with the doctor and she said that whenever you're awake, she'll come check to see if you're alright to leave."
"Great. Yes. Just get it over with."
After about twenty minutes of being prodded at, the doctor said I was free to go. After getting dressed in the clean clothes Mycroft had someone bring over from the flat, we finally left the hospital. John insisted that I stay in the wheelchair, even though it was completely pointless. He said I might fall and crack more ribs or something. Ribs are boring.
When we reach the flat, John carries me upstairs and puts me down on the bed. Just the short ride from the hospital to 221b has been exhausting.
"Stay there. Do not try to get up. I mean it. I'm just going to grab a glass of water and the prescription painkillers and then I'll join you."
A muffled "humph" comes from me in response. John is gone for 47 seconds (10 to get the pills and 23 to get the glass of water; the other 14 were spent walking) and then sits down beside me as promised.
"John, go to sleep. You clearly didn't get any last night. Stop worrying about me."
"But I... need to... you're..."
"You are literally falling asleep sitting up. Stop being an idiot and get some sleep."
"Fine."
John collapsed onto the bed next to me. He didn't even bother taking off his shoes or getting under the blankets; he just fell asleep right where he was. This idiot is going to work himself to death trying to take care of me. He still hasn't figured out that I'm not worth it. Oh John...
Ok this chapter was kind of short, but I needed a little transition chapter thingey. Things are better between our boys. They're momentarily safe and Sherlock's fine(ish). It got a little better. Don't hate me.
I'm planning on having the next chapter up tomorrow night. It will be the start of my Monday-Wednesday-Friday pattern I talked about in the Author's Note. I promise it will be a longer chapter and it will have more happy feels (and maybe a small argument that's fixed with makeup-cuddles it won't be that bad).
Thank you to everyone who is reading this. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'll see you tomorrow, my lovelies. I love your faces.
Grace
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Uncharted Territory - A Johnlock Fanfic
Fanfiction-22k words- A sequel to "A Very Merry Johnlock Christmas." Life in 221b has been more than a bit interesting ever since Sherlock and John got together. Sherlock still doesn't know how to handle being in a relationship and John has no idea how to be...
