Prompt 17: Carry On
Title: Carry On
Author: arwen_kenobi
Rating: G
'Verse: BBC Sherlock
Word Count: 756
Summary: He takes stock and, being as he definitely does have sensation, decides to stand up. It is a painful process made more awkward by the slabs of whatever parts of the warehouse are on his back.
Author's Notes: For prompt 17 of watsons_woes July Writing Prompts. This one was "whump Watson woefully with an alliterative injury or woe of any severity."
It's a world of pain that greets John when he wakes up. A pounding pain that is really everywhere but centres around the sides of his head. He takes stock and, being as he definitely does have sensation, decides to stand up. It is a painful process made more awkward by the slabs of whatever parts of the warehouse are on his back. It takes a bit of work but he manages it. His vision is a little bit fuzzy but it seems to be mostly because of the dust. At least that's what he tells himself as starts to shuffle through the rubble like some sort of zombie. He opens his mouth and shouts for Sherlock. First things first.
Sherlock had been on the other side of the warehouse before, trying to tackle the bomber but who knew where he'd been blown off to. He refuses to think otherwise.
His voice must be choked with dust because he can't hear a thing. He coughs and still hears nothing. It feels like he is. He bellows. At least, John thinks that he bellows but again he hears nothing. He should be hearing something.
He raises a hand to one ear. Blood. Other ear. Blood. Not blood from his head either. This is coming out of his ears. Great. Definitely deaf. Durational deaf hopefully. He does not want to think about what it means if he's wrong.
Oh well. Just because he can't hear doesn't mean Sherlock can't. He tries again and hope he's loud enough. He shuffles and falls as his world tilts a little bit. He sits in the rubble and waits for the dizziness to pass. He coughs again. Damned deafness. At least he'd be able to hear if he was making any sort of progress with the hunk of dust he can feel down his throat. Feeling with have to go.
He spies a figure in the distance. Also disoriented by the look of things. He hopes for the best and tries Sherlock's name again. The figure stops and wavers for a moment. John says his name again and gives what he hopes are clear and coherent directions as to where he is. He's sure that Sherlock is asking questions of him so he does his best to tell all he can remember the closer he gets. It really is Sherlock and his mouth is indeed moving fast and furious. Too fast and too furious for John. Him and Sherlock have resorted to lip reading on a case before but this is way too fast. He decides to just shut up and make sure the man is alright.
Sherlock's bleeding at various locations, naturally, and his right arm is hanging at quite the awkward angle. He orders Sherlock to sit down and stop moving his arm. He turns his head away and quits talking so he can get a look at him. He's trying to figure out how best to immobilize that arm or whether he should just right it right now when Sherlock grabs the side of his face and directs him up. This time John can read his lips. "Can you even hear me, John?"
And then John finally looks into Sherlock's eyes. They're not focussed at all. He's trying, squinting like mad, but he's not focussing on a thing. John immediately kills his emotions to this. It very well could be temporary as well. Brain swelling from the concussions that he and Sherlock certainly both have. Even though he think he's killed the emotions involved but he sees how scared Sherlock is. Terror. He's shaking his head so hard that John has to tell him to stop. His head is really hurting now. He grasps Sherlock's shoulders tight but not enough to hurt, or so he hopes. "Are you okay? How much can you see? Please tell me and tell me slowly."
Sherlock's hand quests over John's face. "Are you alright?" he asks, slowly. "I need to know that before anything else. Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," John soothes. "Just deaf. How are you? Anything else aside from the blindness?"
Sherlock nods still distressed. "I can't see and you can't hear. This is wonderful."
"We'll get by. We always do." He doesn't insult Sherlock by providing hope. He moves one hand to Sherlock and stands. He gently tugs Sherlock to his feet. "There must be police and paramedics here by now."
Sherlock nods and holds tight to John's hand. He squeezes tight as John leads them out of the rubble.
Author: arwen_kenobi
Rating: G
'Verse: BBC Sherlock
Word Count: 756
Summary: He takes stock and, being as he definitely does have sensation, decides to stand up. It is a painful process made more awkward by the slabs of whatever parts of the warehouse are on his back.
Author's Notes: For prompt 17 of watsons_woes July Writing Prompts. This one was "whump Watson woefully with an alliterative injury or woe of any severity."
It's a world of pain that greets John when he wakes up. A pounding pain that is really everywhere but centres around the sides of his head. He takes stock and, being as he definitely does have sensation, decides to stand up. It is a painful process made more awkward by the slabs of whatever parts of the warehouse are on his back. It takes a bit of work but he manages it. His vision is a little bit fuzzy but it seems to be mostly because of the dust. At least that's what he tells himself as starts to shuffle through the rubble like some sort of zombie. He opens his mouth and shouts for Sherlock. First things first.
Sherlock had been on the other side of the warehouse before, trying to tackle the bomber but who knew where he'd been blown off to. He refuses to think otherwise.
His voice must be choked with dust because he can't hear a thing. He coughs and still hears nothing. It feels like he is. He bellows. At least, John thinks that he bellows but again he hears nothing. He should be hearing something.
He raises a hand to one ear. Blood. Other ear. Blood. Not blood from his head either. This is coming out of his ears. Great. Definitely deaf. Durational deaf hopefully. He does not want to think about what it means if he's wrong.
Oh well. Just because he can't hear doesn't mean Sherlock can't. He tries again and hope he's loud enough. He shuffles and falls as his world tilts a little bit. He sits in the rubble and waits for the dizziness to pass. He coughs again. Damned deafness. At least he'd be able to hear if he was making any sort of progress with the hunk of dust he can feel down his throat. Feeling with have to go.
He spies a figure in the distance. Also disoriented by the look of things. He hopes for the best and tries Sherlock's name again. The figure stops and wavers for a moment. John says his name again and gives what he hopes are clear and coherent directions as to where he is. He's sure that Sherlock is asking questions of him so he does his best to tell all he can remember the closer he gets. It really is Sherlock and his mouth is indeed moving fast and furious. Too fast and too furious for John. Him and Sherlock have resorted to lip reading on a case before but this is way too fast. He decides to just shut up and make sure the man is alright.
Sherlock's bleeding at various locations, naturally, and his right arm is hanging at quite the awkward angle. He orders Sherlock to sit down and stop moving his arm. He turns his head away and quits talking so he can get a look at him. He's trying to figure out how best to immobilize that arm or whether he should just right it right now when Sherlock grabs the side of his face and directs him up. This time John can read his lips. "Can you even hear me, John?"
And then John finally looks into Sherlock's eyes. They're not focussed at all. He's trying, squinting like mad, but he's not focussing on a thing. John immediately kills his emotions to this. It very well could be temporary as well. Brain swelling from the concussions that he and Sherlock certainly both have. Even though he think he's killed the emotions involved but he sees how scared Sherlock is. Terror. He's shaking his head so hard that John has to tell him to stop. His head is really hurting now. He grasps Sherlock's shoulders tight but not enough to hurt, or so he hopes. "Are you okay? How much can you see? Please tell me and tell me slowly."
Sherlock's hand quests over John's face. "Are you alright?" he asks, slowly. "I need to know that before anything else. Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," John soothes. "Just deaf. How are you? Anything else aside from the blindness?"
Sherlock nods still distressed. "I can't see and you can't hear. This is wonderful."
"We'll get by. We always do." He doesn't insult Sherlock by providing hope. He moves one hand to Sherlock and stands. He gently tugs Sherlock to his feet. "There must be police and paramedics here by now."
Sherlock nods and holds tight to John's hand. He squeezes tight as John leads them out of the rubble.