Chapter Text
Lestrade rolled his eyes as he heard grumbles of protest emanate from the backseat of the car.
‘If you do that any louder you’ll cause an earthquake,’ he said, looking at Sherlock through the mirror.
He raised an eyebrow in response.
‘Just humor me okay? We’ll get there, go see a specialist and then leave. It’ll take five minutes tops.’
He pulled the car into the visitors bay and climbed out, he heard the door slam behind him and turned to find that the genius’s idiotic behaviour hadn’t changed, and his face still largely resembled that of a bull dog licking piss off a nettle.
Lestrade breathed a short laugh as they approached the entrance of the clinical, pristine building. Having contacted the hospital before their arrival, he told the receptionist the details and they were pointed in the direction of the waiting room.
I preparation of Sherlock aggravating the other patients in the room, he choose two seats at the front of the room, this way it would be obvious if Sherlock was deducing the other patients, and then Lestrade would be able stop him as quickly as possible.
He knew from experience that a grumpy Sherlock picking your worst habits from you when you’re less than healthy, was not a reason for celebration.
Alas, Sherlock had seen his reasoning for their current location, and slowly rolled his head to the right, looking at Lestrade through his eyelashes.
He bristled under the attention the hired detective was giving him. This is not going to end well, Lestrade thought, don’t punch him, don’t punch him, don’t punch him. Think of what his brother would say. Do NOT punch him.
‘How’s the divorce going?’
‘SHERLOCK, LEAVE ME ALONE FOR ONE SECOND WOULD YOU! I’M DOING YOU A FAOUR AND ALL YOU’RE DOING IS WINDING ME UP.’
The entire of the waiting room were staring at the odd pair, some with humor, some were holding their children closer.
A warm chuckle bounced across the room, it came from the doctor who stood by the entrance of the waiting room, clip board in hand, a stethoscope hanging around his neck, head to toe covered in tweed.
He peered over the rim of his half-moon glasses, and beckoned for them to follow him.
They were lead down a few winding hallways until they came to room nearly identical to the ones surrounding it, only this one smelt strongly of…pine?
‘I’ll wait outside,’ Lestrade said, hovering awkwardly.
The consultant said quite merrily in response, ‘It says on my notes that a Mr M Holmes has said that he wishes the detective inspector, whom I assume is you, to sit in on this particular appointment. It then says, and I quote, to keep him inline.’
‘Oh for Christ sakes,’ Sherlock mumbled as he walked past the doctor and sat noisily in the chair, ‘well what are you waiting for?’
Lestrade smiled apologetically at the doctor who fortunately didn’t seem in the slightest put off.
‘Now young man, what seems to be the problem?’ The doctor said thoughtfully as he settled into his chair with a small groan.
‘Seeing as my notes not only had a message from my brother in, but also the hospital was informed of my…Issue, before we arrived by Lestrade, I’m fairly certain that you already know what you think is wrong with me,’ Sherlock glared challengingly at the doctor, as an afterthought he added, ‘Doctor Camble.’
Again, he chuckled warmly at his antics, ‘That may be the case, however, I would like to hear it from you, that is after all why you are here. Otherwise, I could diagnose and treat from across the country.’
Sherlock said nothing, Lestrade looked warily between the two.
‘Well if you won’t say I will,’ he turned to Doctor Camble and started from the beginning, ‘The first we noticed something was wrong, we were at a crime scene, Sherlock, Donovan and Anderson were fighting again (nothing unusual I assure you) I honestly thought that Sherlock was about to punch him, when suddenly, he stopped. He looked empty, and sad, like something horrible had happened, you said that’s how you felt didn’t you?’ He looked at Sherlock briefly, then continued, ‘Then Sherlock complained about his back, which is when we saw the light, it was about the size of a bullet and was glowing a terrible red, blood red. So naturally, we all came to conclusions about what had happened, but that was when Sherlock felt them being bought back to life, after all this I sent him home.’
Lestrade looked at Sherlock from the corner of his eye, ‘I…uh, well Mrs Hudson informed me and Mycroft that it sounded like Sherlock had a nightmare-‘
‘You what?’ Finally, Sherlock had taken an interest in the appointment.
Doctor Camble intervened, ‘What was it about Sherlock?’
‘I- It-it was nothing. Merely a dream, nothing else.’
‘I think we both know that’s not entirely true, you dreamed of their location, or were you seeing things from their eyes?’
‘I was watching over them, but I couldn’t help them, the other soldier just left them there and they were going to die again, I knew it! But I could only see that they were an army doctor, I couldn’t deduce anything,’ he broke off, both stunned at his outburst and disappointed by his own failure.
‘This is quite common after the other half of any bond has died or had a near death experience, and you wouldn’t have been able to…What did you call it? Deduce, anything from the dream, you would only have been able to see what you needed to,’ he gave Sherlock a small smile, ‘And then what happened?’
Seeing that Sherlock was in no mood to reply, Lestrade answered again for him, ‘Mycroft spoke to him in the shops and then later that day he came down to ask about the case again. I caved after a while, my god he can be annoying, and that was when we saw a young couple first meet. They didn’t have a string bond or anything, but it was still nice to see, doesn’t happen every day,’ he finished with a light smile gracing his words as he recalled their meeting.
‘But then we went down to the navy dock yard, a mundane case, but something to keep him occupied. That was when he spaced out, when I touched him it was like I had acid on my hands, that was when I decided to bring him here,’ he looked at Sherlock, concern making him appear older than he was.
‘How did it feel as you found yourself being pulled away, like you were going to pass out?’
‘Yet again, everything went blurry, I could see people, but I didn’t know anything about them. My hearing changed and then Lestrade grabbed my arm, after the brief burst of pain, I was fine. Can I go now?’
He made to move, but the Doctor spoke before he could stand, ‘I’m afraid,’ he said gravely, checking his pager, ‘that we are somewhat understaffed in the ER at the moment. So, I’m going to place you on the ward in case anything happens like this again. Come now, before you argue, if the symptoms you are telling me are really happening, then it won’t be long until you meet your person and you may leave the care of the hospital. Until then, I would like to keep you under observation. Follow me.’
It took five minutes to convince Sherlock that this wasn’t going to kill him, and by the end Lestrade had agreed to bring to him cases, none the less, he did try to make a break for it three times. Finally, with the assistance of two security members they had Sherlock sitting, full clothed on a bed in the Keller Ward, his face like everything around him was covered in the foulest stench imaginable. He was glaring at Lestrade who sat in the visitors chair next to him, as though by being patient and caring (as much as you can be with Sherlock) he had caused him the most offence that anyone ever had.
…
The ER was packed to the brim as soldiers were sent off to various parts of the hospital.
John found himself parked precariously in the middle of a long row of beds, the people either side of him were both fast asleep, or unconscious, he decided he’d rather not know.
He lay of the gurney, enjoying the surprising comfort that it had to offer him. Closing his eyes and finding a mildly comfortable position in which to rest his shoulder, he let each muscle relax and loosen.
It wasn’t the sounds of beeping machines and whining patients that bothered him. It was a small niggle in the back of head, like a tiny ant was crawling in his hair. In annoyance he brushed it away and resumed his position.
But it was to no avail, as he found that the tickle was spreading, less of itch now and more of a nagging sensation, not dissimilar to when you’ve forgotten something important.
In the brief space of a few seconds John went from nearly asleep to wide awake.
He hadn’t forgotten anything, but he was late, no not late…
He had…
Johns brain worked furiously as he tried to remember what he should have been doing. But he done everything, so he must needed to speak to someone.
A nurse maybe? A doctor passed by his bed going to the patient next to him.
‘Excuse me?’ John had no idea what he was asking for.
‘Yes,’ a older man dressed in tweed with small, half-moon glasses turned to him and smiled politely, ‘How many I help you?’
‘Well, I don’t actually know,’ in a desperate attempt to explain himself he stumbled over his words, ‘I feel like maybe I needed to tell you something, or-or maybe see someone, like
a friend or a relative?’
He looked at the doctor, his pleading expression made him vulnerable and younger.
‘I’m going to need you to close your eyes and describe to me the person you see, or the location you find yourself in.’
Slightly sceptical, John slowly let his eyes close. He was shocked to find himself pulled into the ER, it was as if he hadn’t even closed his eyes, but then he was moving fast up flights of stairs, past signs and hordes of people congregating in corridors.
He eyes flew open as if he woken from a dream, he was breathing more heavily as he threw the bed sheet off him and ran past the kind doctor who had a knowing smile on his face.
He had seen one sign that stuck out clear as day, ‘Keller Ward.’
…
Sherlock was standing as the nurse took his coat and blazer from him, she was glad that he had finally complied (this had nothing to do the return of the security guards).
As he stood having a staring match with the larger of the two guards, he noticed the arrival of two of Scotland Yard’s more annoying staff.
‘What are you two doing here?’ He sneered, as the nurse gently pushed him to sit back the bed.
Lestrade didn’t look up from his phone as he replied, ‘I believe they wanted pictures.’
He turned to face the heart rate monitor, and watched while it started to beep faster and faster as it gained nearer to his own heart rate. The nurse glanced at it, and then adjusted how she had positioned it on his hand. Yet still, it continued to beat as if he just gone for a run.
She pressed her fingers to his pulse and checked her watch, there was no mistake.
Sherlock noticed that he had become clammy and fidgety with nerves. Not nerves, anticipation.
He jumped from his seat and looked at Lestrade, who was currently quite alarmed by the sudden flush to Sherlock’s usually pale complexion.
Before Lestrade, Donovan, Anderson or the nurse had time to stop him, he had bounded a few steps towards the end of his bed, where the security guards just managed to each grab an arm.
‘No, let me go! I need to go, please. Lestrade tell them!’
‘What do you mean Sherlock? You heard what the Doctor said, not until anything happens,’ he said, a mixture of surprised and confused and his pleading tone.
‘For crying out loud, it is happening you idiots!’
Sherlock had returned, thus inclining Lestrade to trust him a little more, ‘They’re here, where?’
Sherlock threw a hand up and pointed directly forward, down the centre of the room towards the distant door.
Deciding that they weren’t acting quick enough he managed to slip through the security guards temporarily loosened grip and start to run towards the door.
…
John pounded up the stairs, his feet carrying him in the direction he needed to go, dodging around stunned patients and staff.
He rounded a corner and set off down a corridor, his army uniform that he yet to change for the hospital gown seemed weightless, his only thought on the person he was about to meet.
He’d always assumed they would be a woman, but now he wasn’t so sure, or at least he wasn’t so sure that he cared, as he just wished that they were healthy and happy and wonderful, and god! He was so excited he could barely contain it!
He saw a flash of a sigh in the corner of his eye, Keller Ward, and followed it down to a set of double doors that he threw open before him.
He stopped.
The room seemed to freeze before him, a silence fell like a fire blanket as it quickly extinguished any sound that was being made before.
…
Sherlock’s brief run slowed to a near halt, as the only sound that could be heard was his own erratic heart monitor machine, still beeping frantically even though the monitor clip had long since left his hand.
…
Everything was deadly still. Even the people on the phones at the desk had gone quiet. Not a sound could be heard except for one particularly noisy heart monitor.
Both men waited with baited breath.
John looked at him, properly looked even though they were still quite far apart he could feel him. He took in his height and pale skin, his curly mess of hair and full lips, his piecing colour changing gaze and well-tailored shirt and trousers.
Sherlock looked at him, he didn’t look, he didn’t need to. He already knew everything he wanted to. For the moment he was content to take in his height and weather warn skin,
his sandy hair with streaks of silver and slightly smiling mouth, his deep blue eyes and uniform with a familiar red cross on his right arm.
‘What the hell are you waiting for?’ Lestrade said, still looking at the other man on the opposite side of the hall, ‘Do something!’
Sherlock took a few slow steps forward, afraid that he might him off.
John copied his movements and again, let his feet carry him forward.
All those around them began to notice the gentle pure white glow that had slowly started to emanate from their every cell. As they grew closer to one another it only became
brighter and more powerful, until the onlookers had begun to watch through squinted eyes behind their hands.
They now stood no more than a foot apart. Neither wanted to say anything, as neither one of felt they needed to.
But Sherlock being Sherlock, couldn’t resist, ‘Afghanistan or Iraq?’
John breathed out, ‘Sorry?’
Still captured by the shorter man’s eyes, he repeated, ‘Which was it, Afghanistan or Iraq?’
‘Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you-‘
‘Not important.’
‘No, definitely not on my current list of priorities,’ he murmured.
Sherlock leant down and gently pressed his lips against Johns, he then wrapped one arm around Sherlock’s back to pull him closer, while the other pulled him down by his shirt.
Sherlock, after a second of questioning how to proceed found that he had already had his hands supporting John’s head.
John broke off, but barely pulled back, ‘I don’t even know your name.’
‘Sherlock.’
He reached up and kissed him again, ‘John.’
Another, brief kiss punctuated his name, to which Sherlock replied, ‘You’re a doctor. In fact, you’re an army doctor.’
‘Yes.’
‘Any good?’
They were still just a hair widths apart, both sets of eyes dances over the others features, planning where to go next.
‘Very good,’ almost as a demonstration, he said this, and left a kiss, on his pulse point. It was still racing wildly.
‘Seen a lot of injuries, then?’ He tried not to become too distracted by John’s actions as he made his way around his face, leaving soft kisses in his place, ‘Violent deaths?’
Sherlock stooped again to kiss John fully, leaving with just enough breath to reply, ‘Yes.’
He let his hands drop from his head to rest one on his face, and for the other to weave around his back over his injury, ‘Bit of trouble, too, I bet.’
John looked directly into his eyes, ‘Of course, yes. Enough for a lifetime...Far too much.’
The corner of Sherlock’s mouth lifted slightly in what John could already tell was his trademark smirk, ‘Want to see some more?’
John grinned ear to ear, ‘Oh, God yes.’
…