Re: Fill: Breathing is boring Part 2/3missilemuseDecember 29 2011, 19:18:07 UTC
John immediately grabbed him by the shoulders propping him up straighter, slumping or lying down would only make it worse. His heart rate and respiratory rate were both alarmingly elevated. “HEY!” he yelled towards the driver’s side of the van, while loosening the buttons of Sherlock’s shirt. “YOU BLOODY SODS…” he tried again…No one responded.
He balanced his friend gingerly, leaning to whisper reassuringly in his ear, “Hold on, Sherlock, just be calm, breathe… I’ll be right back…” Unable to speak, Sherlock grabbed his wrist, showing that he understood.
Without thinking, John threw himself desperately against the driver’s partition, while yelling even louder. He slammed his, fists, kicked, and threw himself bodily again and again ignoring his screaming shoulder. Finally, he felt the van jerk abruptly to a stop.
When he got back to his friend’s side, he saw that his normally clear eyes were glassy, his lips cyanotic, his breathing shallow, he had slumped downward, not having the energy to keep himself upright anymore. John pulled the limp form towards him so that he was cradling Sherlock against his front, maintaining the propped-up position. He wrapped his arms around his chest in a loose embrace, grabbing both his hands in his own, using one hand to monitor the pulse. Sherlock’s hands were very cold.
He pinched him, trying to arouse him into making more of effort to breathe. He whispered viciously in Sherlock’s ear, “Don’t you dare!… You have promised me a shag when we get home. You better keep your promise.”
He couldn’t see Sherlock’s face, but there was a painful shuddering breath in response. The door to the back of the van was flung open. John squinted against the light, not waiting to see who it was, taking in a deep breath to start screaming bloody murder, only to realise that the person climbing urgently into the back of the van…was Anthea.
John Watson had never felt more relieved to see someone, in his entire life…
The ambulance had taken a further two minutes to arrive, at which point Sherlock had stopped breathing and his O2 sats had dropped to alarming levels. He had to be intubated enroute, and was directly shifted to Intensive Care on arrival.
It was a harrowing hour during which John sat alone in the waiting room, torturing himself, calculating the probability of possible brain damage. Sherlock was stabilised and shifted to a private room, where John was given complete access, courtesy Anthea.
It was hours later when Sherlock finally regained consciousness, and focussed bleary eyes on John to mutter, “Now, let’s see YOU keep your word!” On hearing those words, John gave a shaky laugh and collapsed in his chair out of sheer relief, eyes hidden behind trembling fingers…
Re: Fill: Breathing is boring Part 3/3missilemuseDecember 29 2011, 19:21:28 UTC
“How long are you going to persist in not talking to me?”
.....
“Am I expected to apologise, when I am clearly not at fault in this instance?”
.....
“I did have the inhaler in my coat pocket, you know. Is it my mistake if the coat was left behind in the skirmish?”
.....
“If you must know, I’m not an asthmatic per se. I just experience exacerbations during the winter months and I take all the pre-emptive medications. I just missed one dose, as we were being kidnapped…Surely, that doesn’t make it my fault, right? JOHN?”
.....
“Fine…If you’re not going to listen to reason…have it your way!”
.....
“John...please talk to me…”
“In the end you stopped breathing, Sherlock… you were in my arms, and you weren’t breathing… Can you possibly understand what that was like?”
“But that’s a normal end-stage in an untreated severe Asthma attack, when the patient…Oh! ..ok…“
.....
“When I was three, I had Chicken pox, from which I made a full recovery. I was bitten by the neighbour’s dog when I was seven, and then developed a serious allergic reaction to the anti-rabies shot. I’m also allergic to mint, but not peanuts.”
???
“I had my first asthma attack when I was ten. I need an inhaler, for only the winter months each year. I have stopped using drugs since two years before meeting you. Despite the drug use during Uni, I haven’t contracted any blood-borne diseases or STD’s…”
“Sherlock…you’re a daft bastard!”
“That maybe…but this is essential information. After all prospective shagging partners should know the worst about each other…”
Re: Fill: Breathing is boring Part 3/3missilemuseJune 11 2013, 00:06:50 UTC
I know it's been long since you wrote this...but I loved it! Very cute! especially the part where John wouldn't talk to him and Sherlock was busy talking to himself.
He balanced his friend gingerly, leaning to whisper reassuringly in his ear, “Hold on, Sherlock, just be calm, breathe… I’ll be right back…” Unable to speak, Sherlock grabbed his wrist, showing that he understood.
Without thinking, John threw himself desperately against the driver’s partition, while yelling even louder. He slammed his, fists, kicked, and threw himself bodily again and again ignoring his screaming shoulder. Finally, he felt the van jerk abruptly to a stop.
When he got back to his friend’s side, he saw that his normally clear eyes were glassy, his lips cyanotic, his breathing shallow, he had slumped downward, not having the energy to keep himself upright anymore. John pulled the limp form towards him so that he was cradling Sherlock against his front, maintaining the propped-up position. He wrapped his arms around his chest in a loose embrace, grabbing both his hands in his own, using one hand to monitor the pulse. Sherlock’s hands were very cold.
He pinched him, trying to arouse him into making more of effort to breathe. He whispered viciously in Sherlock’s ear, “Don’t you dare!… You have promised me a shag when we get home. You better keep your promise.”
He couldn’t see Sherlock’s face, but there was a painful shuddering breath in response. The door to the back of the van was flung open. John squinted against the light, not waiting to see who it was, taking in a deep breath to start screaming bloody murder, only to realise that the person climbing urgently into the back of the van…was Anthea.
John Watson had never felt more relieved to see someone, in his entire life…
The ambulance had taken a further two minutes to arrive, at which point Sherlock had stopped breathing and his O2 sats had dropped to alarming levels. He had to be intubated enroute, and was directly shifted to Intensive Care on arrival.
It was a harrowing hour during which John sat alone in the waiting room, torturing himself, calculating the probability of possible brain damage.
Sherlock was stabilised and shifted to a private room, where John was given complete access, courtesy Anthea.
It was hours later when Sherlock finally regained consciousness, and focussed bleary eyes on John to mutter, “Now, let’s see YOU keep your word!” On hearing those words, John gave a shaky laugh and collapsed in his chair out of sheer relief, eyes hidden behind trembling fingers…
Reply
.....
“Am I expected to apologise, when I am clearly not at fault in this instance?”
.....
“I did have the inhaler in my coat pocket, you know. Is it my mistake if the coat was left behind in the skirmish?”
.....
“If you must know, I’m not an asthmatic per se. I just experience exacerbations during the winter months and I take all the pre-emptive medications. I just missed one dose, as we were being kidnapped…Surely, that doesn’t make it my fault, right? JOHN?”
.....
“Fine…If you’re not going to listen to reason…have it your way!”
.....
“John...please talk to me…”
“In the end you stopped breathing, Sherlock… you were in my arms, and you weren’t breathing… Can you possibly understand what that was like?”
“But that’s a normal end-stage in an untreated severe Asthma attack, when the patient…Oh! ..ok…“
.....
“When I was three, I had Chicken pox, from which I made a full recovery. I was bitten by the neighbour’s dog when I was seven, and then developed a serious allergic reaction to the anti-rabies shot. I’m also allergic to mint, but not peanuts.”
???
“I had my first asthma attack when I was ten. I need an inhaler, for only the winter months each year. I have stopped using drugs since two years before meeting you. Despite the drug use during Uni, I haven’t contracted any blood-borne diseases or STD’s…”
“Sherlock…you’re a daft bastard!”
“That maybe…but this is essential information. After all prospective shagging partners should know the worst about each other…”
.....
THE END…
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