OP- hope this is something like what you wanted. Fair warning, this prompt was so heartbreaking I started crying while writing this. All my facts come from a quick Google search, so I hope it's all correct. Un-beta's, not brit-picked, and written at 1:30 in the morning.
"Don't." It's obviously an order and, while he's certainly well-trained at following them, he's a doctor before he's a soldier, he's a doctor before he's Sherlock's flatmte, friend, assistant, whatever he is, so he continues to reach for the arm Sherlock is cradling to his chest, the blood running un-stemmed.
"Sherlock, you're bleeding."
"I know. Get some gloves before you touch me."
He shakes his head, because only Sherlock can actually irritate him so much the annoyance takes forefront of his thoughts over his well being. "Don't be ridiculous. My hands aren't that dirty and I can clean it with antiseptic later."
It's only when Sherlock reaches out with his uninjured arm and firmly pushes him back that it really registers something might be wrong.
"John, consider all the implications of being a former intravenous drug user." He drops his hands, startled.
"Are you- when did you-" but then Lestrade's there, holding out latex gloves from the evidence kit.
"You might need these." He takes them, numb, not able to voice all the questions running through his head. When did you find out? and How far along is it? and What's your T-cell count?
Later, after Sherlock has gauze taped to his arm and they're walking away from the crime scene- walking, he had insisted, because this isn't the type of conversation he can have in a cab, knowing someone else is sitting an arm's length away- he still can't bring himself to ask, but with Sherlock he doesn't need to.
"I found out two years ago."
"Lestrade knows?" He thinks of the man handing him gloves unasked.
"Yes. As does Mycroft and Mrs. Hudson. And now you." He can't think of anything to say to that, so instead he stops, pulls Sherlock into a hug under a streetlight. He knows the people who pass them by think they're lovers but he doesn't care to correct them, wishes for just a moment that he was someone who got to simply walk past and believe that beautiful, wonderful lie.
~
When they get home Sherlock goes into his room and emerges with a clear plastic bin filled with prescription bottles.
"The Yard. When they do one of their drug busts, Lestrade always makes sure only he goes in your room. This is why?" Sherlock sits down next to him on the couch, lifts off the lid of the bin and runs long fingers over the bottles.
"Yes."
"How far along? Is it still HIV or..." he trails off.
"It's not AIDS yet. My CD4 cell count is 570." John reaches out, lays his hand atop of Sherlock's.
"You're always so reckless. It seemed like you thought you were immortal."
"No." A shaky laugh. "No. I'm very aware of how mortal I am." And when Sherlock starts to cry- quiet sobs which make his entire frame shake- he just pulls him close, tucks Sherlock's head against his shoulder, and says nothing.
~
The next day he goes to the shop and buys a box of latex gloves for every room in the apartment. Then he goes to the station, knocks on the door to Lestrade's office and lets himself in before the Inspector even has time to acknowledge him. Closes the door behind him. Locks it.
"John? I don't have any new cases."
"I know." A pause while he shifts, tries to plan his wording before he gives up and simply starts talking. "I was wondering what it would take to get the Yard to support a needle exchange program."
Re: Fill 1/1
anonymous
November 21 2010, 03:42:30 UTC
I'm so glad it's what you wanted! But, sad as it was I loved writing it because it was such a challenge for me (I usually write sap or unabashed porn with these to.) Still, heartbreaking as it was I couldn't resist torturing poor Sherlock.
Re: Fill 1/1
anonymous
November 23 2010, 19:58:12 UTC
You're right, this is most definitely heartbreaking, but not in an over-the-top sort of way. You say so much with so few words. Their voices were absolutely perfect, especially this line:
"You're always so reckless. It seemed like you thought you were immortal."
I really hoped someone would fill this, and you did brilliantly. Thank you.
Re: Fill 1/1
anonymous
November 30 2010, 00:08:07 UTC
Thank you! I'm so glad their voices worked for you, because these boys can be so hard to write.
Also, that was my favorite line too. It made sense to me that if Sherlock was HIV+ it could go a long way toward explain some of his reckless, borderline self-destructive behavior.
Re: Fill 1/1crashcart9November 25 2010, 09:35:13 UTC
Story: I'm a senior in the molecular biology department at my uni, and I've finally gotten the chance to take our AIDS course this semester. I can draw you the virus; hell, I can draw you gene for gene a map of its RNA without batting an eye, but (this might be weird) HIV+ Sherlock has kind of been one of my head-canons, just in an effort to personalize the disease for myself (thanks to an exercise we did in class). This on top of my already sort of having put him in the patient's place in every case study we read, and Lestrade's unspoken provision, and John's utter lovelyness made my heart explode. ♥
Re: Fill 1/1
anonymous
November 30 2010, 00:14:29 UTC
Thank you! It's so fulfilling when someone tells me they buy my fic as headcanon. And I couldn't picture John and Lestrade being anything but absolutely supportive of Sherlock, especially John (out of curiosity, do Brits know what needle exchange programs are? It didn't even occur to me until after I posted that some people in Britain might be scratching their heads wondering what on Earth John was going on about.)
Also, as someone familiar with the virus, did you spot any glaring inaccuracies? All my info came from googling, so I knew there was a chance it could be off.
Thanks for the comment, it's always nice to know my writing jived with someone.
Yes, they know about needle exchanges. In fact, as with most things related to sexuality and sexual health, they've got more and better ones than we've got in the US, where I am and I assume you are. *Sigh*
"Don't." It's obviously an order and, while he's certainly well-trained at following them, he's a doctor before he's a soldier, he's a doctor before he's Sherlock's flatmte, friend, assistant, whatever he is, so he continues to reach for the arm Sherlock is cradling to his chest, the blood running un-stemmed.
"Sherlock, you're bleeding."
"I know. Get some gloves before you touch me."
He shakes his head, because only Sherlock can actually irritate him so much the annoyance takes forefront of his thoughts over his well being. "Don't be ridiculous. My hands aren't that dirty and I can clean it with antiseptic later."
It's only when Sherlock reaches out with his uninjured arm and firmly pushes him back that it really registers something might be wrong.
"John, consider all the implications of being a former intravenous drug user." He drops his hands, startled.
"Are you- when did you-" but then Lestrade's there, holding out latex gloves from the evidence kit.
"You might need these." He takes them, numb, not able to voice all the questions running through his head. When did you find out? and How far along is it? and What's your T-cell count?
Later, after Sherlock has gauze taped to his arm and they're walking away from the crime scene- walking, he had insisted, because this isn't the type of conversation he can have in a cab, knowing someone else is sitting an arm's length away- he still can't bring himself to ask, but with Sherlock he doesn't need to.
"I found out two years ago."
"Lestrade knows?" He thinks of the man handing him gloves unasked.
"Yes. As does Mycroft and Mrs. Hudson. And now you." He can't think of anything to say to that, so instead he stops, pulls Sherlock into a hug under a streetlight. He knows the people who pass them by think they're lovers but he doesn't care to correct them, wishes for just a moment that he was someone who got to simply walk past and believe that beautiful, wonderful lie.
~
When they get home Sherlock goes into his room and emerges with a clear plastic bin filled with prescription bottles.
"The Yard. When they do one of their drug busts, Lestrade always makes sure only he goes in your room. This is why?" Sherlock sits down next to him on the couch, lifts off the lid of the bin and runs long fingers over the bottles.
"Yes."
"How far along? Is it still HIV or..." he trails off.
"It's not AIDS yet. My CD4 cell count is 570." John reaches out, lays his hand atop of Sherlock's.
"You're always so reckless. It seemed like you thought you were immortal."
"No." A shaky laugh. "No. I'm very aware of how mortal I am." And when Sherlock starts to cry- quiet sobs which make his entire frame shake- he just pulls him close, tucks Sherlock's head against his shoulder, and says nothing.
~
The next day he goes to the shop and buys a box of latex gloves for every room in the apartment. Then he goes to the station, knocks on the door to Lestrade's office and lets himself in before the Inspector even has time to acknowledge him. Closes the door behind him. Locks it.
"John? I don't have any new cases."
"I know." A pause while he shifts, tries to plan his wording before he gives up and simply starts talking. "I was wondering what it would take to get the Yard to support a needle exchange program."
Lestrade grins at him.
END
Reply
Reply
Reply
It was perfect, really.
OP
Reply
Reply
"You're always so reckless. It seemed like you thought you were immortal."
I really hoped someone would fill this, and you did brilliantly. Thank you.
Reply
Also, that was my favorite line too. It made sense to me that if Sherlock was HIV+ it could go a long way toward explain some of his reckless, borderline self-destructive behavior.
Thanks for the comment!
Reply
Reply
Glad you liked it enough you were moved to comment!
Reply
Reply
Also, as someone familiar with the virus, did you spot any glaring inaccuracies? All my info came from googling, so I knew there was a chance it could be off.
Thanks for the comment, it's always nice to know my writing jived with someone.
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
*shakes fist* Anon, why did you have to write it so beautifully?!?!
Reply
Leave a comment