Case: 221b Baker St

Chapter Three

Later On

Graham needed to sort out how tough a case he thought it was. We had been out and about for a couple of hours and I had already basically cracked it. This case was only a three at its best and that was being forgiving.

I heard a shuffling that sounded very much like footsteps.

"Shhh, they're around here somewhere." I whispered. This seems the only logical place for a dimwit to wait for a get away vehicle close to the crime scene.

"They better not be armed." John hissed.

I rounded a corner to be then pulled back by strong rough hands to the safety, behind the building in a split second as,
Bang, Wehhiizzztt!
Shit-aki mushrooms, that was close. My heart rate jumped, I leant against the brick wall and tilled my head back to rest on it as well. I couldn't hide the smile that was growing on my face, this is why I chose to be in this business, the rush of adrenaline was addictive.

Yes I am a Junkie of three things, number one something that could end up killing me, the high I get from adrenaline.

"Bloody Crim is armed, you kay?" John asked

"Never better." I struggled to contain a laugh. "You ready?"

John mouthed: Three, two, one. Then leapt out from the cover of the old warehouse, firing as he did so. Myself following close behind even though I was at the moment, unarmed. I didn't care I have to be in on the action.

Bang!
Not so lucky that time. The bullet made contact with my left thigh. Son of a gun it hurts, see what I did there. John fired just after, shooting the crooks gun hand making him drop his weapon and clutch his hand in pain. God, not only was he good with a gun but the concerntrated look that over took his body using it was... hot.

Taking the opportunity I dived for the guy on the ground, ignoring the growing blood and pain in my leg, while kicking away the gun. I started wrestling with him on the ground trying to pin him.

While all this commotion was going on I didn't notice the black SUV pull up and a big guy get out until it was too late, I looked to see why John wasn't over here helping me pin, to see the big man from the SUV, holding my blogger, who now had a split lip, at gun point. Crap! Where was Geoffrey when you need him? This could have gone better.

Big Guy saw me look his way, he read the slight hesitation in my eyes and hit John over the head with the butt of his hand gun. My blogger started to crumple to the ground, at this point I had let go of the crook I had just managed to pin. I leaped up across the ground and caught my doctors head just before it smash onto the ground. That was close. 

The Thugs had no interest in touch is again they just wanted out of the the situation and behind me I heard car doors slam and then the squealing of tires as the vehicle took off. Lestrade's team will intercept them no doubt, but for now the injured man in my lap was my priority, John.

The split on his forehead was starting to bleed, I need to get him home and sorted out. Okay Sherlock keep your cool, John is fine, he's going to be fine. Fine. Fine. Fine. Fine. Fine.

I took my scarf off and held it to the gash compressing it slightly to stop the blood flow, simple but mainly effective.

He stirred in my arms.

"Sher... Sherlock?" I could tell he was dazed from the knock.

"Yes John, it's me." I whispered

"What happened? W-why am I lying on the pavement?"

"Someone knocked you out, I caught you just before you smacked your head on the ground, which could have caused immense damage to your brain."

"My heads sore. Why does it hurt so much Sher-lock?" I have never seen John like this, so out of it. The way he was speaking to me was like a child. And the he drew out my name, well I wasn't sure what to think of that.

"Let's get you home John and we can get rid of your sore head there." I was starting to become concerned about his gash on his head, it hadn't stopped bleeding yet and was starting to loose a lot of blood from it, I couldn't feel the blood through my scarf yet but I knew it wouldn't be long.

I stood up slowly wincing at the agony my leg was causing me, then I hauled my friend up into my arms knowing that he wasn't in the right state to be able to walk. It was going to be a hard walk home for me.

"Sherlock are you in pain?" John questioned looking up at me.

"No, it's nothing."

"No don't do this to me. You always do this to me. The me the truth and stop lying to me, pleeaassee. What's sore?"

"I got shot... my thigh... I can handle it." I said through my breathing trying to stop the pain from getting the best of me.

"I can walk, let me walk. It will help the pain won't it?" He offered, still dazed.

"Your not in the right state to walk right at the moment, besides we're almost there anyway."

I hobbled my way towards the black door with three gold numbers and one letter attached to it just below the slightly askew knocker.

Home.

~~~

In the flat I settled the dazed John down on the couch then rushed off to grab the first aid kit from the kitchen, John insists keeping it in there incase my experiments go wrong, it's like he has no faith in me.

When I arrived back with the green bag in hand I found John slowly sliding down from his sitting position on the couch and was now more than halfway off the bottom cushion.

I smirked at how childish I seemed to have become and popped him back up by lifting him under the armpits gently. He blinked up at me and then giggled lightly. I offered a warm smile back.

"Right Watson, time to get you patched up. This might hurt a little."

As I put the rubbing alcohol on the skin around the cut to make it sterile, something I had seen and experienced with John cleaning out my cuts, he yelped and tried to squirm away causing me to have to use my body weight to hold him in a position where I could still tend to the gash. It's rather uncomfortable having to one leg still on the ground while the other has a bullet in it and is across your best friends torso using the couch he's sitting on as leverage, having to hold this position long enough to clean out a cut while being as gentle as possible.

Even with my extreme caution John still whimpered in pain and flinched every now and then at the tip of the cotton bud, that was now soaked in rubbing alcohol, as it brush over the split in the skin, the bodies main protective organ.

"I'm sorry John, I won't be much longer I just don't want your cut getting infected, Okay?" He only whimper more and continued trying to struggle free of my hold. By this point I had realised that he was far beyond that point of reasoning.

I sighed slightly and continued to tend to him till I was sure I had all his wounds patched up and put him to bed in my room as it was easier than carrying him all the way up stairs to his, especially with my leg in its current state.

Since when did I start turning into John.

Authors note

As always enjoy
TM xx