Downloading... [Sheriarty AU] {Completed - Edited}

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Okay.

The hospital was in his sight now. He sat right against the door of the taxi, eagerly waiting to escape and enter the building that he saw five or six days a week. The sound of his rapid heartbeat pulsed in his ears, drowning everything else out. All he could register was the horrifying, paralysing fear that was circulating around his whole body.

A single word went through his mind. Just one. Sherlock.

When the car comes to a stop outside the hospital, Jim hops out and throws a twenty pound note into the drivers lap. He didn't stop for the change, simply turned on his heel and scurried into the hospital's reception area.

The receptionist beams as he approaches "Jim, hi-"

"No time for chit chat, Isabelle. What wing is Sherlock on?" Jim demands, eyes on the computer which held the information he desperately wanted.

"One sec..." She turns to the computer. She opens her mouth but Jim interrupts.

"Holmes. Sherlock Holmes."

She nods, typing on the keyboard. Jim grits his teeth a little, aware how much faster he could type and get the information he wanted from the computer. A dreadfully long minute later, Jim has the wing and section and is off again after a rushed and completely undeserving thanks to Isabelle.

"Bloody slow typing," Jim growls the words under his breath, coming to a stop and jabbing the little up arrow on the lift control panel.

The lift ride is, much like waiting for the room number, was painfully slow and Jim's fists balled together tighter and tighter, growing white, as the lift stopped to let more people in. Didn't these stupid people know that Jim had a boyfriend who could be seriously hurt that he needed to see right now?!

As he pushes passed a few people to dart onto the floor Sherlock was on, Jim does have a flash of guilt pass through him. Those people had people to see too.

It's soon forgotten when he arrives at the designated wing.

Jim can only see two of the four bed on the wing. The other two are surrounded by the thin blue curtain that passed for privacy. Jim took comfort in the fact Sherlock hadn't been moved to a private room and hopefully that meant he wasn't in a dire condition.

Stopping at the desk, Jim gives a small smile to the nurse sat at her station. "Which bed is Sherlock Holmes?" He asks, voice still rushed despite the polite tone as he pointed to the two beds on the far side which had their curtains drawn.

"Far right, hun."

Jim nods his thanks, making a beeline for the bed there. He doesn't look around at the other patients and visitors that cast him looks of sympathy. He just hoped that those looks were because of the general fact they, like he, knew the worry of having someone close to them in hospital.

When he reaches the curtain, Jim can hear John.

"You bloody idiot! You could have been killed!"

"Do shut up. I wasn't killed," came Sherlock's snarky reply.

Grinning in relief, Jim steps into the cramped area that was 95% covered by the bed. Whatever John was going to say was forgotten as both the men turn to look at the new arrival. Sherlock grins at his boyfriend as Jim's eyes run over Sherlock's body, searching for any kind of damage. When he saw none, he sighs happily and moves over to the bed. One of his arms wrap around Sherlock's neck, holding his face close as he buries his own in Sherlock's hair. All the panic and worry leak out of him and Jim can feel tears begin to prickle at the corner of his eyes.