Prompting Part XXXII
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GUIDELINES
GUIDELINES
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‘You’re gonna fucking die for what you did to our brother,’ he growled, spitting again. Sherlock barely closed his eyes in time, and this time he did gag, curling over despite the intense pressure on his head keeping him mostly upright.
He couldn’t bear to look at John. The extent to which he would go to keep the man safe scared even himself; and this was the worst so far, on his knees in an empty warehouse, bruised and swollen and bleeding with saliva drying on his face, and yet he knew he wouldn’t take any of it back.
It had meant John was safe. Or as safe as he could be in the situation. And that was all that he needed.
The bald man sent another firm kick to his stomach, letting go of Sherlock’s hair at the same time, and Sherlock went flying back against the wall, knocking his head again.
Then there was nothing but sweet, sweet darkness.
-
Sherlock slowly drifted into consciousness to the sound of beeping. Wonderful. A hospital, then.
The only solace was a strong hand gripping his which he immediately recognised as John’s. Smiling a little, he tried to open his eyes, but couldn’t accomplish very much. He frowned.
‘Yeah, you’ll find when you goad hardened criminals into beating you up, they won’t go lightly on you.’ There was anger in John’s tone, definitely, but it was mostly relieved. Sherlock tried harder to open his eyes, and managed a little more this time so he could look blurrily at John.
‘I did it for you,’ he said, rather stupidly, he thought. John chuckled quietly.
‘I know. You’re a fucking idiot.’
‘I know.’
A rustle, and the blur that was John Watson moved forward and pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s cheek. ‘Lestrade found us just after you passed out. Mycroft was there too.’
Sherlock grunted.
‘Next time, you don’t like to try and get them off my back, okay? I can handle myself just fine.’
‘Of course, John,’ Sherlock lied. John sighed.
‘You know that I know you love me, right? And that you don’t have to prove it?’
Sherlock stared at him. Or, well, squinted. ‘I was not attempting to prove anything to you, John. I wanted you to be unharmed. How could you -’
‘No, okay, it’s okay, I didn’t think so. I just wanted to make sure.’
‘Well, be sure, then,’ Sherlock said with a decisive sniff. John let out a laugh.
‘I love you.’
‘Obvious.’ I love you too. Sherlock reached for John’s hand again, and John grasped it tightly and moved the chair closer to the bed.
‘Go back to sleep, you twit. You were only out for a few hours . I don’t know how you’re not concussed.’
‘I think I am,’ Sherlock said, fighting a yawn. ‘You don’t have to stay.’ I want you to stay.
‘I know I don’t.’ John squeezed his hand, pressed a kiss to it. ‘Go to sleep.’
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