Johnlock One-shots

353.Where...?

Okay, gruesome stuff ahead. Warning! Also, I sincerely apologise for not responding to things early or immediately. I deleted Wattpad on my phone, because I really needed space. Now I only have it on my tablet which doesn't have my Google docs, so I'm just writing straight from on Wattpad. I'm also not exactly going through a great time.
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“Mmh…?” John shifted, opening his eyes and looking up. He moved again, he felt a pain in his stomach. John reached down and put his hand to it, quickly feeling a pool of something warm and sort of sticky. The pain grew as he kept his hand there, so he pulled away.

“Sherlock?” John whispered, looking around again. The room was pitch dark.

He tried to pull himself up, but something on his back kept him against the bed. He laid back down, feeling chains beside him.

“Sherlock!” He called. He was starting to panic. Where was he? Where was Sherlock? He coughed, gasping to breathe.

His head was pounding, so he laid there, hurting, confused surrounded by darkness.

Someone spoke sometime later. “John. You're awake.”

John's eyes fluttered open. Huh? Who was that? It wasn't Sherlock, he had an British accent, not an American one, like the sudden voice.

John tilted his head, trying to find something in the darkness.

“Huh…?” John whispered. “Hello?”

“Hello, John.” The man said. John could hear footsteps lead up to the edge of the bed.

“Hi…” John whispered shyly. He didn't know what was happening. He was scared. “Why am I here…?” He whispered.

“You won't be here for long.” The man said, and suddenly John felt a cold, gloved hand against his stomach. “Sherlock is doing all he can to get you back.”

“I'm sure…” He whispered uncomfortably, afraid to tell him to remove his hand. “What is happening?” He asked.

“Shhh…” The man whispered, setting another gloved hand on John's cheek. He tilted John's head.

“What are you doing…?” John tried to move away, but the man held him still. He pressed a needle into John's neck.

“I’m just giving you another dose, John.” He said.

John closed his eyes, and a moment later, everything went black.

He woke up again hours later, to the sound of harsh yelling and gunshots. John was so shocked, he started sobbing.

“Get down!” He heard someone yell. “Put your hands behind your head!”

John struggled, but he put his hands behind his head. Someone kicked down the door, and John cried. “I didn't do anything…” He whispered painfully.

“He's in here!” The man yelled, hurrying to the bed. A few more people ran in, and John noticed he wasn't getting attacked, he was getting helped. He sobbed loudly.

“There's something in my back…” He whispered. The SWAT members lifted him, noticing he was tied into the bed with chains. They freed him, then lifted him out of bed.

“Get him something to wear!” Said an officer, who was keeping John up. John blinked a few times.

“What…? I'm wearing clothes.” John looked down to his clothes. They were ripped, but they were there.

“They're all bloody. Don't worry, John, we're getting you out of here.”

“John!” Sherlock ran into the room. He embraced John, swaying him. John felt dizzy, but he put his arms around Sherlock.

Sherlock tore off his jacket and wrapped it around John. John pulled the jacket close, leaning into Sherlock.

“Sherlock, what happened?” He whispered. Now that the lights were on, he looked down to his stomach, which was bleeding from a stab wound. He leant weakly into Sherlock.

“I'll explain later.” Sherlock held him close. John passed out, and Sherlock rushed him to the ambulance outside. It was a miracle John woke up later.