A Chance To Stay Alive - Johnlock

27) Therapy

Sherlock was rudely awoken the next morning by the rays of sunlight bursting through the ward curtains. He let out a small groan, closing his eyes again and turning onto his side, trying to get back to sleep. That night, to his dismay, he had been sick three times; every time accompanied by a frantic-looking nurse.
"John can you ask one of the nurses to bump up my morphine dose?" The curly-haired boy mumbled, opening his eyes to gaze up at his boyfriend. However, it took a few seconds for Sherlock to realise that John wasn't there. His face immediately crumpled just as a doctor entered the room, collecting Sherlock's breakfast which he had unsurprisingly left untouched.
"Doctor Pérez is going to visit in a few minutes," she explained bluntly, lingering by the door.
"He wants to see how you're getting on."
Sherlock gave a careless shrug and leant back against his bedpost; fiddling with the drip recently attached to his arm.
"Where did John Watson go?" He snapped suddenly, glaring at the doctor.
The woman gave a sudden look of surprise before fixing eyes upon the boy.
"He had to leave in afraid," she explained almost sympathetically.
"He got rather upset when you were asleep and we had to escort him out."

Sherlock froze for a second, his eyes sinking.
"Why was he upset?" He asked quietly, frowning at her.
The doctor gazed at her feet for a moment before finally making eye-contact with the curly-haired boy.
"You were talking in your sleep," she said suddenly, causing Sherlock to raise an eyebrow.
"He got scared - you were screaming, something, something about your mother? Anyway me and Doctor Pérez happened to stumble across you a few minutes later and John was sat besides you begging you to stop."
The curly-haired boy gave a small gulp before staring at his bedsheets.
"And where is he now?" He croaked miserably.
"At home I think," the doctor replied curtly.
"He said he'd visit again today."
Sherlock sighed to himself before reluctantly giving a small nod.
"I'll leave you to have some peace," the woman hummed, leaving the room and closing the door gently behind her.

Sherlock bit his lip before slowly sinking back under his duvet covers, listening as the sound of raindrops drumming against the windows filled the room. He had scared John - something that he never dreamed of doing. There was a small tap at the door a few moments later and a new man now entered, his face tanned and his black hair combed to the side.
"Mr Sherlock Holmes?" He asked in a thick Spanish accent as he closed the door behind him, gazing at the curly-haired boy in-front of him.
Sherlock gave a small nod as he sat up against the bedpost, his eyes tired and a firm frown across his pale face.
"You're Doctor Pérez?" He asked with a small sigh, closing his eyes in exhaustion.
"I am, yes," the man replied, nodding his head and folding his arms.
"I'm just here to guide you through your recovery, and I'm going to help you with therapy sessions to get you back walking on your feet."

"That's impossible," Sherlock muttered, fiddling with the drip attached to his arm.
"The tumour basically destroyed my legs and the cells inside them."
Doctor Pérez gave a small hum of interest at this before taking a seat besides Sherlock's bed. He took a clipboard from the table and began to scribble some notes down onto the paper.
"I know where you're coming from," he reassured the boy, leaning back in his seat and biting his lip.
"But I assure that I've had a discussion with the other doctors and nurses, and we believe that with the right support you will be able to manage it."
The curly-haired boy pursed his lips and gave a small scoff.
"They obviously don't understand - now if you don't mind me then I'd like to get some sleep, I had a rough night last night," he explained with a raised eyebrow, faking a yawn. A small smirk came over the doctor's face as he got to his feet, digging his hands into his pockets.
"I'll see you later then Mr Holmes," he hummed smoothly, slipping from the room and leaving Sherlock on his own.

••••••••••••••

"Okay now try and take a step forward."
It was midday and the Spanish doctor and Sherlock were both in the gym room. The curly-haired boy had both of his hands gripping to a set up bars shakily as Doctor Pérez stood by his side; an arm slipped around Sherlock's back for support.
"I-I can't," Sherlock stammered, bowing his head and wincing in pain.
"Please I-I can't do this."
The doctor slowly helped Sherlock back up before giving a heavy sigh.
"Of course you can Sherlock you just don't believe in yourself enough, yes?" He explained, watching as the boy's legs began to tremble under pressure.
However, their conversation was soon interrupted by a knocking on the door, which was to reveal none other than John Watson - his face tired and nervous.

"J-John," Sherlock gasped, stumbling slightly in his place.
The blonde boy's eyes widened in realisation as he immediately ran forward, wrapping his arms tightly around his boyfriend as he planted a bold kiss on his cheek.
"I'm so sorry Sherlock," he whispered, resting his head against Sherlock's chest.
"Jesus Christ..I'm sorry for leaving last night."
John stepped away and reluctantly let go of the curly-haired boy, biting his lip as he saw his reaction.
"No...I understand," Sherlock promised, managing a weak smile before gripping back onto the bars.
Doctor Pérez gave a small smile of warmth before gesturing John towards a nearby seat and clapping his hands together.
"Shall we continue?" He asked hopefully, noticing Sherlock's sudden change in move.
The curly-haired boy gave a defiant nod before composing himself and lifting a shaky leg forward, his foot landing on the cold floor below.
"First steps," John reassured him, a small smile creeping onto his face.
"Keep going."

•••••••••••

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