Trench Coats and Jumpers- a Johnlock fanfiction

Chapter 1- "John...wake up"

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my first John x Sherlock fanfiction so...HERE GOES NOTHING!

Beep. Beep. Beep. The sound of a heart monitor flooded John's ears. What happened? Why did every inch of his body feel as though he'd been crushed into a garbage disposal? With a small sigh, he slowly opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was white...was he dead? No, he couldn't be. There are no heart monitors in the afterlife...or were there? What happened next confirmed that he wasn't dead: He saw Sherlock asleep on a chair seated at his bedside. John smiled and gently placed a hand on Sherlock's arm. "Sherlock...wake up", he whispered.

Slowly, Sherlock opened his eyes and looked up to see John awake; finally. He smiled, which was rare. Sherlock almost never smiled yet here he was, smiling at John."Glad to see you're up John. You took a hard hit during our last case and you went unconscious. I brought you to the flat, but Mrs. Hudson insisted I take you here for 'proper care'. After I brought you here, they rushed you to an operating room and then here. I refused to leave even though they threatened to kick me out of here", Sherlock said bluntly.

John chuckled softly. Although Sherlock can be a serious pain sometimes, his actions always meant well toward John. After a few moments of silence, Sherlock broke they gaze they shared and stood up, telling John we was going to inform the nurses he was awake. John nodded, and Sherlock left quickly. Once he was gone, John sighed. He wished that moment could've lasted a little longer. He always loved to gaze into Sherlock's strikingly light blue eyes. They seemed to hold back so much and John thought if he stared into them long enough, he would be sucked in and finally figure out what Sherlock always seemed to be hiding. But he couldn't ponder the moment much longer, for Sherlock returned, with a nurse that rushed over to John to check his health. After a few inspections, the nurse smiled at John, then turned to Sherlock and whispered something in his ear. Sherlock nodded, and the nurse was gone. "She said that after I fill out a few papers, I can take you back to the flat", Sherlock informed him.

"Well that's a relief", John sighed with a small smile. Sherlock returned it and then vanished once more. John allowed his thoughts to wander once more. But it seemed that no matter how hard he tried to concentrate on anything, his mind always raced back to the tall, curly haired, detective he knew so well. His jaw cut into a perfect shape, those eyes piercing John's heart, his thin lips that seemed to only smile at John, and his tall, slim figure that always stood so proudly. 'Wait a minute! What I am I thinking?!' John mentally scolded himself and told his brain to shut up. He placed a hand to his cheek and felt that they were warmer than they should be. 'Am I BLUSHING?!' John's brain screamed at him. He groaned and flopped his head back onto the pillow. Minutes passed as he waited for Sherlock to return. His brain continued to flash images of Holmes and he continually told his mind to lay off. One time, he actually said it out loud, causing a nurse outside his door to yelp. Finally, he returned and told John they could go home once he gets dressed. "But I don't have any of my clothes with me", John told him.

"Mrs. Hudson dropped some off earlier", Sherlock replied, throwing a bag at John. He caught it and winced when it hit his chest. Sherlock nodded, and left once more. Carefully, he sat up, being sure to not injure himself more. He looked at his bandaged hands clutching the bag and sighed. 'This is going to be a long recovery' he thought, steadying himself before he attempted to stand up. Slowly, he pushed the covers aside. After taking a deep breath, he put his feet on the ground. The cold tile of his feet sent a chill through his whole body, causing him to shiver slightly. He quickly and carefully put on his clothes, happy to be wearing his jumper once more. Sliding on his shoes, he limped out of the door and down to the front office feeling very weak. Once he arrived, Sherlock thanked the nurse and they walked out into the crisp morning air. John shuddered at the immediate cold. 'Why didn't Mrs.Hudson bring me a coat?' John thought grumpily as they flagged down a taxi. They slid in and headed for the flat. 

The drive was silent and rather awkward. To break the silence, John asked his friend, "So what exactly happened?" 

Sherlock looked at his small friend and sighed. It hurt Sherlock to talk to anyone about what happened. But after looking into John's warm grey-blue eyes, he gave in. "It started as a normal case. We had found out who it was and we were planning to stop him. Once we arrived, we realized our man had guns and we knew we'd have to be much more careful", he took a deep breath before continuing,"Carefully, we entered the abandoned building. After taking out a few of the men, we heard a loud clanging. Assuming it was our guy, you ran ahead. Turns out, it wasn't him at all. It was the building collapsing. You were crushed by the building. I was able to pull you out and take you to the flat. You were so light, I carried you. The doctors were afraid you suffered severe head trauma. Luckily, they were wrong about that and you were only out for a few days.", Sherlock ended and refused to meet his friend's eyes.

"Thank you Sherlock", John said as he placed his hand on Sherlock's before giving it a quick, reassuring squeeze. Realizing what he was doing, he removed his hand and went back to staring out of his window. Five minutes passed before they arrived at the small flat they gladly called home: 221B Baker Street. Upon entering, John was greeted with a large hug from Mrs. Hudson. He returned the gesture before heading up the stairs to unlock the door. 

Arriving, he smiled. He was happy to see that nothing had changed. The curtains were still neatly parted from the windows. The kitchen was still untidy from Sherlock's continuous experiments. John chuckled at the thought of Sherlock probably being happy he wasn't here for a few days to tell him not to do those dangerous experiments. Sherlock's music stand was still placed at the same window with his sheets of music scattered and his violin laying on a chair. John's computer was untouched on the desk, along with all of the newspaper clippings and books. He laughed to see Sherlock's skull was still there. Mrs. Hudson hadn't confiscated it...yet. Yep, everything was still in its place, unchanged. Seating himself in his chair, he let out a long sigh. 

What was going to happen while he recovered? Surely he won't be able to work and he'll need someone to watch after him. Knowing Mrs. Hudson wouldn't be too keen to babysitting John, he wondered, 'Is Sherlock going to have to take care of me?Oh dear. This is going to be the weirdest recovery yet.' 

END OF CHAPTER

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