Organised Chaos - Sherlock x Reader

XLVIII • 48

John's POV:

I'd made a habit of checking on you every day. I felt bad because you had finally given up hope, and I still had to keep my secret.
I knew you'd had a date with Sebastian that day- I rather liked him. He seemed like a decent fellow, and he seemed to make you happy. I knocked on your door about ten minutes after I heard Sebastian leave.
No answer.
I knocked again, louder this time.
No answer.
I thought maybe you'd gone out, but heard Bowie whining pitifully and scratching at the door.
I opened the door a crack and peeked in.
The sight before me caused me to inhale sharply and fling the door open entirely.
You were sprawled on the floor, unconscious, your muscles twitching involuntarily. Bowie was nosing at you feverishly, then looked up at me and whined again.
I snatched my phone from my pocket and hurriedly dialed 999.
A monotone voice answered, "Please state your emergency."
"I need an ambulance at 221 C Baker Street immediately!" I cried, frantically. "My sister's been poisoned."
"Stay calm, we're on our way." The monotone was replaced with an urgent one.

I had never felt that an ambulance was slow until I had to wait for one. I held you in my arms, your head in my lap. You were still unresponsive, but your limbs convulsed regularly. I mentally scrolled through the list of poisons that I'd encountered throughout my medical career.
Your symptoms matched a potent but usually non lethal dose of fast acting sedative laced with a small amount of tetrodotoxin. Despite the small chance of it being lethal, I knew that it could induce coma.
As a doctor, I knew the best response was to stay calm, but I suddenly realised how difficult it was when it was your closest friend and relative in danger.
I stroked your hair and kissed your temple, just in case you were even slightly conscious.
"It's okay sis, you'll be okay, I promise."
The medical team rushed in now, and three emergency responders lifted you up and laid you on a stretcher, then rolled you out to the waiting ambulance.
They allowed me to ride with you, and I continually stroked your forehead, your hair, assuring you that you'd be okay.
I knew I was really trying to assure myself of that.

******

I sat in the waiting area chewing my nails.
You were undergoing emergency detox to extract the poison from your bloodstream.

After what seemed like a decade but in reality was only an hour, the doctor stepped out.
"She's stable, but she's still unconscious. You can go see her now." I thanked him profusely and hurried into your room.
I pulled a chair up to your bed, where you were lying still, surrounded by numerous blinking and bleeping machines that even I couldn't identify. At least not in the panicked state that I was in.
I recognised the heart rate monitor, and was relieved to see that your pulse was steady.
I took your hand in my own and watched you quietly for some time. Your face was impassive, your breathing slow and regular.
I felt a tear roll down my cheek for the first time since Sherlock jumped. I had tried so hard to be strong for you, to help you out. Now you were likely comatose because I didn't do my job well enough.
I had spent my whole medical career assuring people that the physical state of their loved ones was not their own fault- most of the time anyway.
So often, people beat themselves up for a friend or family member who had gotten sick, hurt, or who had died.
I had spent so much time trying to tell them that it wasn't their fault, that it was entirely an unforeseen occurrence.
Somewhere deep down, I knew that this was the same. I couldn't possibly have known that you would be poisoned. Yet I still felt responsible.

I held your hand in my own and let my head fall onto the bed. I could no longer stay strong.
I felt a sudden rush of anger toward Sherlock.
It'd been a year and a half, and he still wasn't back.
Our texts had become less regular, although he still asked me how you were doing.

A doctor came in with a clipboard in one hand.
I lifted my head when I heard him.
"Was it tetrodotoxin?" I asked.
He looked a little startled. "Yes."
Noting his surprise, I confirmed, "I'm a trained army doctor. I'd made my assumptions."
He narrowed his eyes but nodded, "I see. Yes she had been administered a small amount of tetrodotoxin that had been mixed into a large dose of fast acting sedative."
I nodded. "I thought so."
"Mr. Watson, I'm afraid she'll be comatose. I can't use that term until several more hours have passed, but she's made no signs of consciousness."
The doctor consulted his clipboard then looked up at me with pity in his eyes. "I'm sorry."
"How did it happen? How was she poisoned?"
The doctor looked back down to his clipboard. "There was a single puncture wound to the back of the neck. It was likely administered purposely by another person."
I stared at him for a moment, then I laid my head back down on the mattress and I could feel sobs racking my body.
This had to be a dream. It couldn't be real. I pinched myself, but nothing changed.
This was reality and there was nothing I could do about it.

I had only been there an hour, stroking your hand and trying to convince myself that you'd be okay, when two police officers stepped into the room.
One, a burly man of about 50 who I'd never seen before, spoke. "Mr. Watson, you'll be coming with us."
"What?" I asked, rather shocked. "What's going on?"
"We're taking you to the Yard for questioning. Come with us."
"Wha- why? Why do I need to be questioned?" I asked, frantically.
The other officer spoke up, one who I'd seen in passing but never really paid much attention to. "We're investigating Ms. Watson's poisoning. We're taking you in for questioning."
"This is absurd!" I cried, as the first one grabbed my wrist and cuffed me. "Why would I ever poison her? She's my sister!"
As they lead me out the room, I shot one more frantic glance at you, lying still. No one could testify for me now, with you comatose and Sherlock gone.