That one time sherlock got properly scared....
John was walking home from the churchyard after laying flowers at Mary’s grave, feeling kinda crap and crying slightly. He could see sherlock peering out of the window at 221, so he smiled slightly and waved, not noticing the van as it barrelled towards him.
Sherlock saw the van, and John, and could do nothing as the van ploughed him over. Sherlocks eyes fixed on johns as he went down, and before he knew it he was on the street screaming johns name running towards him as people gathered around.
This was the one time that Sherlock could not focus. His eyes were swimming and his view of John kept going in and out of focus, and all he could see was the blood , blood, BLOOD everywhere and it scared him not his John, his John, the doctor who could fix anyone or anything no, no NO. He frantically scrabbled around John, trying to piece him back together like the game of operation he played with mycroft. Operation with his big brother. It was so much easier then, just putting things together with tweezers. This was so much more real and scary. His John, was on the pavement in a bloody mess.
Sherlock fell back, shaking, as the ambulance pulled up and took John. He let himself get trampled by the crowd of nosy idiots, his shirt and dressing gown dripping with johns blood. Mrs Hudson came out to see what the commotion was, and saw Sherlock shaking by the door and immediately worried that Sherlock had finally broken and killed someone.
She was right about one thing...
Sherlock somehow made it back upstairs to the flat, where he collapsed in johns chair. Mrs Hudson has no idea how long he was there, how many days passed where he didn’t eat, drink, or even move. When she got a call from the hospital saying John could come home in a few days, Sherlock was so far gone into his mind she couldn’t tell him.
A few days pass... johns short steps could be heard with mrs Hudson fussing over him all the way. Sherlock remained dead to the world, his eyes a new shade of black, that seemed to suck all happiness from a room. Sherlock was broken.
John ambled into the room eventually, and saw Sherlock in his chair. Sherlock physically jolted, before he got up and stared at John like he was a ghost.
“Jesus fuck Sherlock how much this time..?!” John sighed, staring at the mess Sherlock was in and immediately thinking he was high.
Sherlock looked confused, before falling to his knees and staring at John as he walked to his chair and sat down. John laughed slightly, leaning back in his chair, wincing slightly at the slight twinge. This spurred Sherlock into action, rushing around the flat making John coffee and getting his favourite biscuits (custard creams). The two then sat in their chairs talking about life, and idiots, and suits, and the idiocy that was sherlocks family.
Later on, after things quietened down, John looked at sherlock, and said, “so what did you take..?”
Sherlock looked at him, and answered “nothing. You really should look before you cross the road.”
John laughed, and they laughed together and were happy for that small part of time.
