Chapter Text
When they enter 221b, John is beyond tired and he isn't sure how to handle the night they have ahead of them. On one hand, he feels he needs to watch out for Sherlock; on the other, today's events in Sherrinford and his stay in a well have brought him to his limits. The adrenaline is fading and so is his alertness.
Before they left Musgrave, he had called Mrs Hudson, informed her about what had happened. During their conversation John realised she was quite stressed out about the state of the house and the explosion. Although the house had been cleared for use, she had spent the past days at her sister's. Now that the situation was under control and her boys were heading home, she wanted to come home, too. All in all, the damage to the building is not as serious as John thought it would be. The living room is a mess, but the floor and ceiling remained structurally sound. The kitchen had taken damage from the blast and the fire but Sherlock's room and the bathroom are okay and so is John's room and all of Mrs Hudson's areas.
John double-checks if the front door is thoroughly locked before he follows Sherlock up the stairs. John heads directly to his bedroom, fetches a cotton tracksuit, then heads downstairs again to have a shower. While he gets rid of the pond smell, he can't help but listen to his flatmate's every move. Sherlock is rummaging in his room and then puts the kettle on. John hurries.
The moment John pulls on his trousers, he hears Sherlock pass by the bathroom. He pricks up his ears. Sherlock walks on and through the kitchen. That's when John hastily pull his shirt over his head and hurries after him. Sherlock is on the first landing when he catches up to him. The detective is wearing a hoodie and clearly heading for the front door.
"Where are you going?" John asks loudly.
"Out. Back in 30 minutes," Sherlock says, his voice tired and slow. He doesn't turn around.
"What?... Where could you possibly go now?" John asks, alarm bells ringing in his head.
"Don't wait up for me," Sherlock replies in a fake cheerful tone John knows all too well. Something is up. The doctor hastens down the last couple of stairs.
Sherlock reaches the front door but when he presses the door handle it doesn't open. He's still fumbling for his keys when John reaches him. With gentle force he drags his friend back into the hallway.
In a misplaced attempt to appear unsuspicious Sherlock smiles at him. John's eyes narrow; he's fully aware that this is a danger night. Besides, Sherlock is currently in no state to do anything on his own.
At that moment, Mrs Hudson enters the hallway, alerted to their presence by their conversation.
"Oh, boys, I am so sorry. Come here." She drags them further away from the door, into the open space of the foyer, and engulfs them both in an awkward group hug.
"God, I am so glad that you're both okay." The tears in her voice are unmistakable.
John is squeezed into Sherlock's side and he can feel his friend trembling. More alarm bells. She lets them go a moment later and John's gaze immediately locks onto Sherlock's face, who is looking through things, not at them.
"We are. No need to worry, it's over now," Sherlock announces. His cheerful tone continues and is in sharp contrast to his appearance. Clearly, Sherlock's mask is on and he's trying to fool them. "My sister is safe and secure and back in Sherrinford. Locked in," he adds.
"Let me make some tea," Mrs Hudson offers.
"That would be lovely," Sherlock smiles at her and she bustles off.
The moment she vanishes, Sherlock has the keys in his hand and is back at the front door. John goes after him.
"Where are you going?" He grabs Sherlock's sleeve.
"Getting some cigarettes from the kiosk down the street," Sherlock replies, shoving the key into the lock.
"No," John states plainly, but Sherlock ignores him and turns the key.
To underline his statement, John wraps his hand around Sherlock's biceps and tightens his grip.
"Not happening," John adds.
Sherlock makes an attempt to wriggle free and uses a bit more force than necessary; that's when John's alarm bells start to blare full force.
"Oi, you need some rest and I need you to stay here. I am too tired to handle any-," John tries to throw in a have-mercy card, but Sherlock interrupts him.
"You don't need to handle anything else tonight, John. Go to bed. You need rest as well," Sherlock says with a reassuring smile. Before he can open the door more than two hands wide, John has jumped forward and blocks it with his foot.
"No!" he states again.
"You don't get it. I need-" Sherlock hisses, his face suddenly a grimace.
"What? What, Sherlock?"
"I need to go out. Now!" Sherlock presses against John, hard.
As gently as possible, John shoves him back into the hall. Sherlock resists, tries to stay put, but it seems he has barely enough energy left to fight John.
"No, you need to stay here!" John insists.
Suddenly, Sherlock does a step back and the pressure John had applied works in his friend's favour. John stumbles and Sherlock frees himself, then heads towards Mrs Hudson's kitchen.
Back door, John realises, a bit too late, and rushes after him.
"Mrs Hudson, don't let him leave!" he yells, by now convinced Sherlock aims to buy drugs. He completely understands his friend's need for oblivion but he can't allow it, not like this.
Halfway into their landlady's kitchen, John on his heels, Sherlock stops dead and turns around again, heading back to the stairwell. It is so sudden John has no chance to react in time. In the middle of the hallway he catches up with Sherlock.
"Stop it," John barks, once more grabbing Sherlock's biceps. This time John is prepared for Sherlock's tries to shake him off.
"Let me go, John."
"And then? Where will you go?" John snaps, his patience wearing thinner now.
"I need something… I need to buy-"
"Drugs?" John interrupts, his tone now over-exaggerated as he holds on to Sherlock's arm.
"Yes, for God's sake! I need some fucking relief! Can you understand that?" Sherlock answers in an equally aggressive tone. His eyes though are speaking a different language. They scamper through the room anxiously, not resting on anything.
"Sorry, no. Can't let you do that!" John responds. Sherlock's tone should have been a warning but it catches John off-guard nevertheless when Sherlock suddenly makes a move. It is violent and full of force. John didn't think Sherlock had it left in him.
With one swift turn of his arm, Sherlock frees himself, angry now. By the time John reacts, Sherlock has thrown the lamp from the side table with one furious movement. The tumult brings Mrs Hudson back to the foyer. John sighs with relief but it's short-lived.
Sherlock dashes towards the door and John is hindered by his hesitation to use real force. He had traumatised Sherlock by beating him into a pulp in the morgue; any kind of violence is an absolute no-go now.
The problem is that currently he has only two options: either allow Sherlock to leave or force him to stay. The way to implement the latter, the only acceptable option, is physical restraint. Sherlock is a black belt and very well-versed in hand-to-hand combat techniques, so John has one chance - and one chance only - and it is based on surprise.
Decision made, John uses one of the restraining techniques he learned in the army. He catches up with him, reaches under Sherlock's right arm with his own right and grabs his friend's left wrist, thereby effectively catching Sherlock between his own arms and John's torso. Next, John uses his left hand to bring Sherlock's skull to the crook of his arm and secures his head to his own shoulder with his left hand.
It is a very effective move when the opponent needs to be able to walk. John drags Sherlock back towards the stairs, taking advantage of the fact that Sherlock needs a few seconds to understand what is actually happening. Just as they reach the bottom of the stairs Sherlock starts to fight.
"Get up the stairs, Sherlock," John barks. That's when his friend starts to fight in earnest, now howling into the crook of John's arm. John is quite sure he's not actually hurting him, just restraining him very effectively. He checks if Sherlock is able to breathe without problems. There is no chance to climb the stairs without Sherlock's compliance. If he fights it, he might send them both tumbling down.
"John? What the hell are you doing?" Mrs Hudson screeches from behind them.
"He's trying to meet a dealer. Can you help me? He's not thinking clearly and not himself," John addresses her in a calm voice. That very second Sherlock kicks his foot against the lowest step of the stairs, using John's body as leverage.
It doesn't catch John off guard. All he has to do is gently turn Sherlock's skull and push down to incapacitate him. Sherlock's body has no other choice than to follow the movement; he is face-down on the ground in less than two seconds. John uses another tactical move to lock him in place.
"Get my bag, please.. and two of his bed sheets," he addresses Mrs Hudson. On his own, with only his elderly landlady as support, there aren't many options. Mycroft is out of commission, too, and Greg is dealing with the aftermath of all the shit that happened today.
"Uh, John?" Mrs Hudson mutters, hesitating.
"Do it," John urges and lifts Sherlock's arm a bit higher when the detective tries to shake him off. Sherlock grunts, struggling helplessly. John is sure he's not causing him pain - as long as Sherlock stays still. Nevertheless, Sherlock starts to show signs of rising agitation.
"Hey mate, relax. I'm not going to hurt you. I just need you to stay put," John reassures him in a gentle voice, using his thumb to stroke Sherlock's skull to get his attention.
The only reaction is that the detective squeezes his eyes shut; moments later his breathing derails. John can feel his breath hitch but doesn't let go. He's seen Sherlock faking tears one too many times to be hasty.
"You're alright, Sherlock. You just need to calm down. You're safe. I won't hurt you. Just relax." It unsettles John to do this, to give Sherlock the impression he is overpowering him. But right now, he can't allow Sherlock to hurt himself. John hates to do this, but he can't allow Sherlock to relapse. His own distress about the entire situation has to wait, though he feels it nevertheless.
Instead of calming down, though, Sherlock starts to gasp and his breathing rate accelerates to a level that indicates an imminent panic attack.
Very slowly John eases his grip, ready to grab him tight again. When Sherlock tries to curl onto his side, John allows the movement but neither lets go nor lets his guard down. The soft noises Sherlock makes are hard to interpret. They certainly could be confused with gasping laughter, although, after the day they had, it was more likely soundless, convulsive sobbing than anything else.
Sherlock needs help. Clearly the situation is going downhill. John can feel the distress Sherlock's body is broadcasting due to their close contact.
While John is still trying to decide how to continue, Mrs Hudson returns, the doctor's bag in her hand. She apparently has forgotten the sheets but if they're lucky, they won't need them.
"Oh, dear," she exclaims and drops the bag next to Sherlock, then kneels down.
"Sherlock?" she asks in a careful voice and stokes his hair back, revealing Sherlock's grimace of pain and distress. There are actual tears in his clenched-shut eyes and with a sigh, John finally releases him entirely, struck by the agony on display. John expects a reproving look from the landlady, but she seems to understand perfectly.
"How do we get him up the stairs?" is her next huffed question. A very good question.
Sherlock's paroxysm of grief makes John feel the need to hug him tight, but he fears it wouldn't be of much help. This amount of trauma won't be healed by momentary physical comfort, this would need months - maybe years - to heal and all they can do at the moment is supply first aid and to be there for him in the long run.
"Oh, Sherlock… Shhh… You're okay," Mrs Hudson croons and kneels beside him. John frowns. If Sherlock freaks out, she might get hurt.
She is definitely distraught, too. She starts stoking his hair and speaking in a low soothing voice to him, although Sherlock makes no sign of being aware of her ministrations.
With clenched teeth, John blows out air forcefully to release a bit of his own tension.