Organised Chaos - Sherlock x Reader

LXV • 65

Sherlock's POV:

I stepped off the aeroplane, once again wearing my jeans and hoodie, hoping to stay innocuous.
I was so glad to be home.
My phone chirped and I saw a text from John.

(F/N) is in Scotland with MacKenzie. You can come back if you want.

I smiled. Perhaps I would go back for a little while. I missed not only London itself, but my flat as well.
I made a last minute decision and directed my cab to Baker Street.

John's POV:

I didn't know if he'd actually come, but I hoped he would.

I'd just put the kettle on when I heard footsteps on the stairs. We didn't get many visitors since he'd 'died', so I figured it could only be him.
He opened the door and stepped in, cautiously, almost like he wasn't sure you were actually gone.
He looked around, then, seemingly regaining his confidence, closed the door and sat down in his chair like any other day.
"How're you feeling?" I asked.
"Fine." He answered, though he didn't look or sound it.
"Let's see it." I said.
He groaned. "The doctor said it was fine."
"Second opinions never hurt." I insisted.
He grumbled under his breath, then stood with effort. He unzipped his jacket and faced me with a sigh.
I pressed my fingers gently around the wound. "Does that hurt?" I asked. He'd winced the moment I'd touched him.
"Did they give you painkillers?"
"Yes."
"Did you take them?" I asked with a frown.
"No." He said, hesitating.
I let out an exasperated sigh. "Why not, Sherlock?"
"I forgot." He said, lamely.
"You? Forget?" I raised an eyebrow.
He sighed. "I want to be efficient, not drugged up." He winced as I redressed the wound.
"You won't be efficient if you're in pain."
"It's not that bad." He said, but winced again.
"Right." I said, sarcastically. "Take your medicine, Sherlock."
"Fine." He said, rolling his eyes.
He turned away as soon as I'd finished, then looked back.
"I need to blend in for a few weeks- until I look better. She can't see me like this."
"And what do you plan to do?"
"I have absolutely no idea." He said, probably for the first time in his life.
I wanted to poke fun at him for that, but he was serious.
"You need to eat and exercise- the latter of which will be difficult with your injuries." I pointed out.
"I'll figure something out." He replied.
"Do you have a place to stay?" I prodded.
"I've got... friends." He said, carefully.
I knew that meant his homeless network. That wasn't my idea of 'friends' and it certainly wasn't a great idea under his circumstances, but they were innocuous and efficient.
I sighed.
"Just-" I thought a moment. "Just stay safe and try to get back as soon as you can."

Sherlock's POV:

I knew he was just trying to care for me- insisting on seeing my injury and that I take my medicine. Trying to help me with a battle plan- it was all because he cared about me and he wanted me back as soon as possible and in one piece.
I appreciated it- I really did- but I needed to go about this in my own way and on my own timetable. A plan had begun to form as I prepared to leave. I collected several days worth of non perishable food and put it in a bag, along with some cash, dressings for my wound, my medicine, a lightweight sleeping bag, a torch and- just in case- my gun.
I took a shower, knowing it would likely be my last opportunity to do so in awhile. I had to discard any pride that I had remaining, and keep telling myself that this was for you.

******

They had set up their little tent town underground, not far from the tube station. They were a rowdy bunch, but, all in all, good people.
Several of them looked up as I walked into the miniature city they'd built for themselves. It was a sort of organised chaos- everything was a mess and quite dirty, and yet everything had it's place.
I pushed my hood down and most of the onlookers recognised me and went back to what they'd been doing. It was terribly dark- despite it being full daylight outside- the only light coming from the barrel fire that burned constantly among the mass of tents and sleeping bags.
I crouched down next to the fire and opened my bag.
"I brought food." I called out, softly, but still loud enough for everyone to hear. Several of the younger members of the group scrambled up and towards me. Despite the fact that everyone was hungry, it had never been first come first serve. The youngest and strongest would always collect whatever sustenance was available and distribute it evenly among everyone- something I admired about them. It seemed there were very few people left in the world who followed the same standards.
I spoke quietly to the young man who was nearest me.
"I'd like to stay here for awhile, undercover. I'll bring you food as often as possible, but I can't have anybody know where I am. Okay?"
He nodded, the promise of food the clincher.
"Thank you." I added.
I laid my sleeping bag out in an empty space near the fire, and then, true to my word to John, took the painkiller my doctor had prescribed.
It was only a few minutes before the medicine made my eyes heavy and I laid back, falling into the deep slumber that I so needed.