"Wha...where...."
"Sherlock. Sherlock, it's John, don't you dare fall back asleep. Open your eyes."
Sherlock obeyed the soldier's command and slowly managed to pry open his eyes, squeezed shut from the huge explosion. John was at his bedside, gripping Sherlock's hands to the point of losing circulation. Sherlock looked at his face, and completely broke. John was shot white, with bloodshot eyes, strained from tears, and his jaw was clenched so tightly it was sure to break.
"John...how am I alive?"
"Well, the bomb went off, but the flames didn't hit you..." John got lost in thought for a few moments before snapping back and finishing, "...the chair got blown over, and landed on you, so you only suffered major bruising and lung exhaustion..."
"Fuck. No. Keep it together, John. No emotions...." John demanded his emotions cooperate, but his eyes rimmed with tears, and he couldn't hold. He started sobbing, and he stood quickly to leave. Sherlock couldn't see him like this, ever.
However, Sherlock wouldn't have it. He detached all of the various machines hooked up to him, and got out of the old hospital bed, and with difficulty grabbed onto Watson, turning the smaller man around and pulled him to his chest. John balked, and hesitantly wrapped his built arms around Sherlock's torso. The Detective buried his head into John's shoulder, nose touching neck. He, too, let out a profuse sob, surprising John once again. For five minutes the flatmates were wrapped in each others embrace, and when John let go, so did Sherlock.
"Sherlock. Promise me the next time you find a birdcage, you won't go throwing it around?"
Sherlock laughed, and said, "My dear Watson, my hatred for the bloody things have only increased. There is no chance any birdcage will reside in MY presence again."
John laughed with him, although a tint of sadness still came through, and led Sherlock back to the bed.
______________________________________________________________________________
Later that evening, Sherlock woke up. Feeling groggy, he panicked at the thought of being in this disgusting dark hospital by himself, but was relieved to see John was passed out on the excuse of a chair placed in the room. Sherlock could not help but to smile at the sight of Watson still in military seating position, yet still managing to have an adorable expression plastered on his face. No! No, not adorable. Just....dammit. Letting out a sigh, Sherlock still found it hard to accept his attraction to the doctor, especially since he had always identified with asexuality.
"John...how do you manage to look so good after a bloody explosion went off..." Sherlock muttered, shocked to see a sly grin creep onto John's face.
Sitting up, he soon discovered his thoughts had triggered a certain reaction, causing the blood from his head to suddenly...rush out. His thyroid gland gave up, and Sherlock's hormones decided to become very horny. Testosterone rushing through him, along with whatever medication he had been given, ruined all chance for rational thinking, and the mind palace was under construction. Never before had Sherlock acted before thinking, but at this moment he gave up logic and got out of bed, making sure not to wake John.
John stirred, but did not wake when Sherlock shyly intertwined their fingers. Nor did he notice when Sherlock got on his knees and slowly placed both hands on his neck, reaching up to feel the blonde hair. He did, however, wake up at the precise moment Sherlock pressed his lips to John's own. Eyes wide open, John practically jumped out of his seat, and Sherlock hissed, flushing red from embarrassment.
A tantalizingly slow few seconds passed, and John stood up and grabbed the detective.
"Just what in the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" He whispered, holding Sherlock by the neck.
"Please don't do anything irrational, I was only-"
"You do it like this."
John spun Sherlock around and slammed him against the wall, reaching up to grab the mass of silky hair before ferociously pressing their lips together, and with his free hand, reached behind Sherlock and grabbed his ass.
Sherlock, completely overtaken with a mixture of shock and lust, wrapped one endlessly long leg around John's hips, pulling him closer. He clawed at John's back and felt the broad shoulders hidden under an incredibly annoying jumper.
John had deepened the kiss by this point, lightly exploring Sherlock's mouth with his tongue and breathing heavily. He moved his hands down Sherlock's stomach, but got no where due to the idiotic hospital gown.
"John." "Sherlock."
Simultaneously saying that, they both knew the mutual need for the immediate removal of each others clothes.
John bluntly ripped off Sherlock's hospital gown, revealing the sculpted abs and absolutely god like waist he had always imagined. Sherlock was left in only briefs, letting John revel in the brilliance of his long, muscular legs.
Sherlock grew impatient, and grabbed at John's sweater, yanking it off before moving onto the jeans. Quickly unbuttoning the pants, he pulled them down, taking along with them John's underwear. John felt a sudden rush of air and looked down only to find Sherlock gaping at the size of his erection.
"Oh, shut up."
John grabbed Sherlock's arms and they fell back onto the bed, knocking over various equipment while kissing with such a bloodthirsty desire John could not resist but to break the kiss and bite down on Sherlock's neck, gradually making his way down.
On the other side of the hospital, a tired young intern woke with a start at the emergency button unknowingly pressed by Sherlock.
