Chapter Text
Sherlock came back from his walk with Gladstone to find John and Lestrade lounging around watching telly. The normality of the situation surprised him and he found himself growing very wary. He took of Gladstone’s harness off hung up his coat and absently rubbed his eye.
“Now!” John shouted and they both ran at Sherlock and tussled him to the ground. Sherlock struggled as Lestrade sat on his long legs, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Noooooooooo!” He whined as John sat on his chest and trapped his arms under his leg.
“I think we might have underestimated him Greg, we need another man.” John yelled trying to keep Sherlock’s arms trapped.
“What about Mrs Hudson?” Lestrade replied as Sherlock managed to get a leg free.
“She can’t get down with her hip. Can you grab hold of his arm for me?” Lestrade moved forward letting go of Sherlock’s legs. Sherlock kicked out at the air.
“Owe, he bit me!” Lestrade shouted drawing his bloody hand back.
“Just hold him down.” John shouted trying to get a purchase. “Sherlock, please just open your eye and let me put the drops in.”
“No I don’t want to. I can’t see properly afterwards.” Sherlock turned his head so that his bad eye was pressed against the carpet.
“This isn’t going to work.” Lestrade said shaking his head. John looked over at the sofa where an interested Gladstone sat wagging his tail.
“Hold him down for two seconds.” John got up grabbed Gladstone and plonked him on Sherlock’s chest. “Sit!” John said, and was pleasantly surprised when Gladstone did a he was told.
“Now what?” Lestrade groaned.
“Sherlock, if you struggle you might hurt Gladstone.” Sherlock stilled and nodded in response.
“Now let me put the eye drops in.” Sherlock opened his eyes. John carefully put a drop of the liquid into Sherlock’s eye. “Don’t rub it!” John shouted as he stood up. “I’ve got to bandage Greg’s hand.” Sherlock lay on the floor hugging Gladstone close to him, his lip quivering.
“Are you going to talk to me tonight?” John said to a miserable Sherlock who was now lying on the sofa hugging Gladstone.
“Who said that? I can’t see you.” Sherlock said petulantly.
“Sherlock, you know your eyesight will only get worse if you don’t complete this course of medication.” John sighed as Sherlock huffed and opened his good eye to look at him.
“I don’t like having things in my eyes. Mycroft poked me in the eye with his umbrella when I was little.” Sherlock quivered at the memory. John sat on the coffee table, putting his hand on Sherlock’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry Sherlock, what can I do to make you feel better?” Sherlock stuck his bottom lip out and sat up lifting his arm up. “You want a hug?” Sherlock nodded, John shifted over to the sofa and snuggled into Sherlock. “You’re a big softie deep down aren’t you.”