Fill: SeasicksherlobsessionOctober 11 2011, 18:21:16 UTC
Sherlock tried to concentrate on the big, blue sea outside the window. He tried to ignore that the boat was tossing, and that his nausea just went heavier and heavier. He tried to take deep breaths, inhale, exhale, inhale, and exhale. Memories from a boat ride he had done in his childhood flashed before his eyes. Mummy just sat there, her eyes where closed and it barley looked like she was breathing. Father was irritated, as always, and Mycroft looked at him with disgust. Sherlock himself was sitting next to Mycroft, with a plastic bag in his hands, just in case he’d puke again.
“Sherlock? Sherlock?! Are you okay?” John woke him up from his thoughts.
“Yes, I’m just... I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? You’re white as a sheet!”
“I’m fine, I just have to…” Sherlock closed his eyes and swallowed.
“Shall we make a visit to the toilet?” Sherlock nodded.
“If you can make it there, I’ve got a paperbag here otherwise”
“Bag please” Sherlock whimpered. John handed the white sickbag over to him, just in time. Sherlock had almost started to hyperventilate, and snatched the bag.
“Breathe Sherlock, it’s fine” John tried to help, but Sherlock knew it was too late. He had already started to retch, and within a few seconds, he would be throwing up. He hated this, the few seconds before and while vomiting, when you felt worse than ever. Then it came, the flood of what felt like everything he’d eaten the last week, just surged out of his body. He felt the tears in his eyes, and John’s kind hands rubbing his back.
“So, so, breathe” John started stroking Sherlock’s black locks instead. “Do you want some water?” he asked while the Sherlock was spitting into the bag. John handed a bottle over to him. Sherlock took it and drank small sips.
“Are you feeling any better?” John asked him.
“No… Not really... A little bit maybe”
“Hm… Sometimes it helps to eat something, I could go get you some biscuits if you want?” Just the thought of food made Sherlock retch again.
“More of that coming up?” John asked and held up another bag in front of Sherlock, who once again closed his eyes and vomited.
“Sherlock, I think that it would be nicer to both you and all the other people on this boat if we went to the bathroom and did this… Do you think you can manage that? I’ll follow you, of course, but we don’t want to mop up sick from the floor, huh?”
“I can manage, I think…” the pale detective answered. John rose from his seat, and helped Sherlock to get up from his. All the people around them glared at them, some of them with pity, and some of them with disgust. Sherlock hadn’t thought of all these people before, and how humiliating it was to throw up into a bag in a room filled with people. The boat listed violently and Sherlock felt his stomach twist and whispered to John.
“John… I think I’ll be sick again. Now…” He swallowed and looked down on his shoes, embarrassed.
“You’ll be fine Sherlock, just stay calm, breathe, I’m sure you can make it to the toilet over there” John said and pointed. “There is a bin right there, if it’s really urgent.” John pointed once again; this time on a big plastic basket with a garbage sack inside it. Sherlock putted his hand in front of his mouth and darted to the bin. Even more people watched him while he was spewing into it.
“Eww! Mom, why is that guy puking in the bin? It’s barley any motion of the sea at all!” A little girl said, very loudly.
“John, let’s just go back to our places and let me vomit in paperbags, I can’t stand all those people watching me while vomiting, and I’ll never make it to that toilet!”
--
A few hours later the both men stepped of the boat, and onto the ground again.
“John, that was the most embarrassing, exhausting and most painful boat trip I’ve ever done!” Sherlock said, and hided his face in his hands. “All those people, looking at me, poor me who seemed to be the only one on that boat who was feeling sick..”
“It’s okay Sherlock, we won’t take the boat next time… But yeah, there is a boat ride home again tomorrow…”
“Can’t we just… Take a cab or something?”
“Sherlock, we’re at an island, you can’t take cabs over the sea!”
“But… But… I can’t stand another second on that boat!” Just the thought of more tossing seas almost made him retch again…
“Sherlock? Sherlock?! Are you okay?” John woke him up from his thoughts.
“Yes, I’m just... I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? You’re white as a sheet!”
“I’m fine, I just have to…” Sherlock closed his eyes and swallowed.
“Shall we make a visit to the toilet?”
Sherlock nodded.
“If you can make it there, I’ve got a paperbag here otherwise”
“Bag please” Sherlock whimpered. John handed the white sickbag over to him, just in time. Sherlock had almost started to hyperventilate, and snatched the bag.
“Breathe Sherlock, it’s fine” John tried to help, but Sherlock knew it was too late. He had already started to retch, and within a few seconds, he would be throwing up. He hated this, the few seconds before and while vomiting, when you felt worse than ever. Then it came, the flood of what felt like everything he’d eaten the last week, just surged out of his body. He felt the tears in his eyes, and John’s kind hands rubbing his back.
“So, so, breathe” John started stroking Sherlock’s black locks instead. “Do you want some water?” he asked while the Sherlock was spitting into the bag. John handed a bottle over to him. Sherlock took it and drank small sips.
“Are you feeling any better?” John asked him.
“No… Not really... A little bit maybe”
“Hm… Sometimes it helps to eat something, I could go get you some biscuits if you want?”
Just the thought of food made Sherlock retch again.
“More of that coming up?” John asked and held up another bag in front of Sherlock, who once again closed his eyes and vomited.
“Sherlock, I think that it would be nicer to both you and all the other people on this boat if we went to the bathroom and did this… Do you think you can manage that? I’ll follow you, of course, but we don’t want to mop up sick from the floor, huh?”
“I can manage, I think…” the pale detective answered. John rose from his seat, and helped Sherlock to get up from his. All the people around them glared at them, some of them with pity, and some of them with disgust. Sherlock hadn’t thought of all these people before, and how humiliating it was to throw up into a bag in a room filled with people. The boat listed violently and Sherlock felt his stomach twist and whispered to John.
“John… I think I’ll be sick again. Now…” He swallowed and looked down on his shoes, embarrassed.
“You’ll be fine Sherlock, just stay calm, breathe, I’m sure you can make it to the toilet over there” John said and pointed. “There is a bin right there, if it’s really urgent.” John pointed once again; this time on a big plastic basket with a garbage sack inside it. Sherlock putted his hand in front of his mouth and darted to the bin. Even more people watched him while he was spewing into it.
“Eww! Mom, why is that guy puking in the bin? It’s barley any motion of the sea at all!” A little girl said, very loudly.
“John, let’s just go back to our places and let me vomit in paperbags, I can’t stand all those people watching me while vomiting, and I’ll never make it to that toilet!”
--
A few hours later the both men stepped of the boat, and onto the ground again.
“John, that was the most embarrassing, exhausting and most painful boat trip I’ve ever done!” Sherlock said, and hided his face in his hands. “All those people, looking at me, poor me who seemed to be the only one on that boat who was feeling sick..”
“It’s okay Sherlock, we won’t take the boat next time… But yeah, there is a boat ride home again tomorrow…”
“Can’t we just… Take a cab or something?”
“Sherlock, we’re at an island, you can’t take cabs over the sea!”
“But… But… I can’t stand another second on that boat!” Just the thought of more tossing seas almost made him retch again…
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