It Started With Stealing | Sherlock Holmes

68 - You're Okay

The day broke, sun piercing through the cloudy day. Shards of light streamed into the hospital room, falling on Sherlock's face. The bright redness of his eyelids elicited them to crack open, peeking out at the world curiously, sleepily. The subtle, steady beep of the heart monitor could be heard in the background.

Sherlock blinked a little harder, blinded by the light as his brain started to whir back into consciousness. His eyes looked away from the window and down at his best friend.

John's head uncomfortably hung by his shoulder, his one hand now resting on his lap while the other remained on the arm of the chair. He had been awake briefly in the night but had awoken to no other consciousness and so he had resolved to try and sleep again in the uncomfy chair. The doctor still dreamt his morning away.

Sherlock's head moved slightly for him to see straight ahead of him. His brow rose at seeing Rita with her head on Mycroft's shoulder and Mycroft's head resting upon her head as they sat on the small couch in the room. Who would have thought his brother to have the affection in him? He mentally scoffed at himself for the hypocritical question.

Finally, he gazed to the right of him, his brow softening as he saw his Elizabeth also resting uncomfortably with her head on the side of his bed as she held his hand. Wisps of hair tickled her cheek but didn't wake her. While one may have assumed this meant she was in a deep sleep, she was not, for the anxieties surrounding her lover's state kept her on the edge of reality.

Sherlock softly squeezed her hand.

Sensing this pressure on her hand, she stirred, her eyes flickering open. She then watched him squeeze her hand again. She sat up still watching the hand before transferring her gaze to his face.

Her mouth fell open with a soft gasp, tears welling in her eyes at being able to look into his enchanting pupils. No words were spoken as the two simply took each other in. Elizabeth wondered if this were reality, if he really was awake. The alternative was too unbearable and so ending their silence she sprung forwards, wrapping her arms around his neck, still being mindful of his wounds as she buried her head in his shoulder.

"You're okay." She breathed.

"I'm sorry." He croaked, his one arm rubbing her back reassuringly.

"You should be." Elizabeth pulled back to look at him again, "You said I was the one who would need help."

"Did you?"

Her eyes fell to his hand as she rubbed the back of her neck, drawing his attention to the ragged black and blue collar that Grayson had marked her with. He gently brushed his fingers across the marks, pain in his eyes at failing to protect her, the one reason why he had followed after her.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"They got off worse." She croaked, "Trust me."

At this point, John stirred, the pain in his neck alerting his body that it was time to change positions but as he moved, his eyes flickered open, lazily absorbing the world. He saw Elizabeth awake and sat up and when he looked to Sherlock he saw that he was awake. John sat up quicker, as though his brain had been placed in a slingshot back to awareness.

"Oh, Mate." He smiled, "I told you not to get hurt."

"I tried not to get hurt."

"Running into a knife twice isn't trying to not get hurt."

"I didn't run into it - it ran through me." Sherlock defended.

John chuckled, "I'll see if I can find the nurse," He stood, stretching and as he turned to the door, he saw Mycroft and Rita together. He frowned thoughtfully, "Did you know about these two?"