Something is Wrong (Johnlock and DoctorWho)

Chapter 8 Foul Mood and Ribbons

"This is Kate Parry, and I'm standing outside where just a few hours ago a brave woman caught the famous fraud detective Sherlock Holmes as he jumped off the roof...." The reporter continued, filling the silence. Sherlock caught the ball and turned to the Doctress.

"Why did you catch me?" He asked.

"Because, I wanted to." The Doctress said, not hesitating.

"Watson and Mrs.Hudson-"

"Are safe, Sherlock." The Doctress said, a hint of anger rising in her voice. "If those hired killers had their way we would know by now, wouldn't we?"

"How did you know?" Sherlock asked, his face showing interest.

"Pfft! I'm the one who took their camera out of your study, then I took care of their spies, then I had to camp on rooftops for hours to take out a few." The Doctress explained, before angrily balling her hands into fists, "And if your brother just held up his end of our deal, I would be gone by now!"

"Mycroft?" Sherlock asked, not surprised.

"No shit, Sherlock!" The Doctress groaned, standing from her chair and walking back to her hospital room. She didn't want to be taking her anger out on him.

She fell face first into her pillow, angry at having been hurt, and for making Sherlock not feel reassured. She was supposed to be watching John and Mrs.Hudson and protecting them at the moment too, not laying in a hospital feeling useless. The Doctress sighed into her pillow, then turned her head to look out a window, which showed night had set.

Unrest filled every bone in her body. She could guess that she still had enough time until the bomb at 221 Baker Street, but that didn't make her feel any more reassured.

She turned over onto her back, but then quickly turned upside-down against the wall. Like when she tried to sleep before, she guessed the time, closed her eyes, and crossed her arms. She was a little cold, but fell asleep after a few seconds. Her dreams were filled with fire and loss.

The Doctress woke up in the middle of the night and flipped out of the small hospital bed. She started stretching and waking herself up, not wanting to sleep again and too scared to see what was behind her eyelids. Her room lacked a TV, so she creeped into Sherlock's room to use his.

The small TV turned on to a soft static channel. The Doctress muted the volume before turning on the news, sitting in the visitor chairs. An hour or so later, in the middle of an advertisement, she snuck back into her room, grabbing a sheet and the pillow and going back to Sherlock's room, not bothering to see if he woke up or not.

The room only got colder farther on, and she left again to grab more sheets, returning to the room and making a make-shift bed by putting three chairs side by side and laying down across them. The Doctress got comfortable before looking back at the late-night opera, listening to the- she stopped, and felt around for the remote.

"Looking for this?" Sherlock asked, waving the remote from his bed gloatingly. "Hope you don't mind, but I would rather hear the music." The Doctress sighed and got back into her comfortable position, laying on her stomach with her head in her hands.

After a while Sherlock got up, and the Doctress ignored him until he shook her.

"Still awake." She stated, looking at him.

"I believe these are yours." Sherlock said quietly, holding out a handful of ribbons.

"Where did ya get these?" The Doctress said in surprise, sitting up and taking them, not bothering to try and only use one accent.

"The Great Hall." He said, getting back into his bed. He offered no explanation like a kid, and the Doctress felt more inclined to take care of him, chest full of warmth at his action.

The Doctress couldn't see what expression he was wearing, and shrugged off finding out, using all three ribbons to put up her hair and then going back to watching the TV. At one point, she fell asleep.