Skinny Love: A Johnlock Fanfiction

Chapter Ten

"And all this time you've been drifting out with the tide, my friend. But you can have what's mine if it helps you stay afloat." ~'Safe and Sound' by Electric President

John

The room was quiet except for the distant hum of London life. Droplets of rain trickled down the large windows of the counseling room. Shadows of streaks snaked across the slumbering man, creating the illusion of tears running down his ghostly face. The ebony curls of his bangs drooped over his creased forehead.

John's hand hesitantly hovered above Sherlock's hair. It looked greasy and tangled, with curls fraying in every direction. But he so badly wanted to run his fingers through the inky locks. Just a sweep of a hand could fix these mini-disaster zones. He wanted him to feel the sensation of a gentle hand gliding through his hair. A touch to let him know that John was still there.

"Things aren't looking sunny," Dan said. John drew his hand away from Sherlock.

"Yes," He replied. That was all he could manage to say.

"John," Dan said, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. His usually relaxed face was pinched in a frown. "Sherlock isn't the right fit for our clinic."

"What?" John blinked.

"He can't stay here. His condition is worse than we thought. He'll have to be hospitalized-"

"What?" John asked again, the weight of the words sinking in.

Dan rubbed the back of his own neck. "Refeeding through a hospital is a good option for people like Sherlock."

"Wait, I thought he could just be fed here," John spluttered.

"He could, but so far it seems ineffective. By what I gather, he's too far gone for therapy. A more aggressive renourishment program will bring his weight to a healthy level. There are some hospitals nearby I can get you in touch with."

John felt his head swim. 'A bloody hospital admittance?' He thought.

"Are you saying you want to hook him up to an IV and call it quits?" He demanded.

"Of course not! Once he is healthier, he can come back and we will continue treatment."

"Bullshit!" John snapped. "Look, I may not be a psychologist, but I'm a doctor. Placing that much stress on his body without helping his mind will screw over everything."

"Dr. Watson!" Dan's frown deepened. "I'm very sorry, but this is the only option."

"Is it?" John stepped forward angrily. "Is it really?"

"Unless you're willing to devote your time to re-feeding Sherlock yourself, then no," Dan said bluntly. "There are no other options."

"Wait, what?" John asked. "You mean, I could do it?"

"Yes," Dan sighed. "Some parents of young patients we've had prefer that option to hospital treatment. But it's very difficult and time-consuming."

"I think I can handle it," John said. "I was a soldier in Afghanistan."

Dan let out a laugh. "That won't do you much good, John. Have you ever had a child?"

"No, but-"

"Re-feeding at home is like caring for an ill infant. It takes time and patience. You have to be with him at almost all times. You have to watch him suffer. Do you think you can handle that kind of devotion?"

John hesitated, turning his head to gaze at the sleeping Sherlock.

'Would it be a good choice?' He asked him silently. 'I know you'd hate it, but would the hospital be better? Can I even handle it? Would I just make it worse?'