The Gay Is On (Johnlock)

Chapter 7

John sat at Sherlock's bedside for a total of 18 hours, not getting up once to eat, use the bathroom, or sleep. His only concern was that Sherlock could die at any moment. His only comfort was that Sherlock could wake up at any moment.

As John sat, nearing the 19th hour, he thought about what Sherlock said earlier. He really thought that John wasn't worth him living? John thought that Sherlock loved him, but apparently he didn't love him as much as he thought. John let these thoughts envelope him in a wave of sadness. He was nearly crying again. He needed something to lift his spirits.

John pulled out the note that Sherlock had written to him that morning, and read it over and over again until he couldn't help but cry. A large tear trailed down his cheek and onto the paper, where it left a large wet spot. John sadly put the paper back into his pocket.

"John," he heard the faintest of whispers.

"John..where...what happened?"

John rushed to Sherlock's bedside.

"You don't remember? You were badly attacked by a gang!"

All of the sudden, memories flooded Sherlock as he remembered that stupid group of people.

"Wh-what's wrong with me?"

John's voice was shaking so much when he answered that Sherlock wanted to cry himself.

"You were sh-shot, you have a broken leg, 6 broken ribs, a minor cut to the head, and some b-bruising on your cheeks. You had a black eye, but the swelling has went down and now it's a faint bruise. The doctors suspected you had a punctured lung but you didn't, the reason you were struggling for breath was because of your broken ribs. Y-you, you had a 50% chance, Sherlock," John said, his voice cracking on the last sentence.

Sherlock's eyes grew wide, and he grabbed John's hand with his left. "How..how long have you been here?"

For John, the hours could have been years. But the hope of Sherlock waking up would have been enough to keep him waiting for however long it would take.

John looked down at his watch. "Eighteen and a half hours," he said.

Sherlock's eyes widened. "Eighteen and a half hours? John, are you out of your mind?"

"I would wait until the end of world if it meant I got to see you in the last moments."

A single tear rolled down Sherlock's cheek. John reached up and gently wiped it away.

"John, what I said earlier, about nothing being worth this pain, well...I wasn't lying. However, I never said that nobody was worth the pain. You, my John, are worth anything the universe will throw at me. I would take years of torment to protect you, and in a way, I already have."

John squeezed Sherlock's hand tightly. "Th-thank you so much, Sherlock," John said, relied visible on his face.

"You are very welcome. Anyway, has anyone been notified of my, erm, attack?" Sherlock asked.

"I phoned Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft, Lestrade, and Molly. They're all going to visit you as soon as you are able to be put in a regular hospital room. Mycroft seemed genuinely worried, and of course all the others were as well."

Sherlock said, "Okay."

John leaned forward. "Sherlock, if I ever find the men who did this to you, I swear I will-"

Sherlock put a hand to John's lips to silence him. "I know." He said.

Sherlock moved his hand just as John brought his to Sherlock's face. He gently stroked Sherlock's bruised cheekbones with a sad look in his eyes. Now that the blood was dry, he saw where Sherlock's head had been gashed. It wasn't deep enough for stitches, but it was deep enough for it to bleed quite a bit. John stroked that also, very gently so he wouldn't hurt Sherlock.

John's eyes rested on Sherlock's left shoulder, bandaged tightly.

"Is that where you were..?"

"Yes, John."

John took a shaky intake of breath and said, "Just like mine."

"What did you say, John?"

"My left shoulder. It's where I was shot in Afghanistan."

Sherlock smiled a sad smile. "Now we match."

John tried not to cry. He had one more question.

"Why did you text me yesterday?"

Sherlock answered shakily, " I woke up. It hurt so much, John, and the worst part was that you weren't there. I thought I was close to dying, so I texted you, before passing out again. I wanted you to get here before I..I died. But then you grabbed my hand and the energy put a new strength in me. I needed to live, if only for you."

John bit a lip to keep from crying. Sherlock noticed, as he always does, and said, "John, come here."

John obeyed, standing right next to Sherlock's bedside.

Sherlock grabbed the front of his jumper and pulled him down, their lips hungrily crashing against one another. They both moaned in pleasure.

Sherlock ran out of breath quickly, and pulled away, his cheeks bright pink under the bruises. "Thank you," he said.

John nodded and smiled a huge smile.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

{Time Lapse}

For the next two weeks, John stayed by Sherlock's bedside, eating less than Sherlock (for once) and hardly getting any sleep. Sherlock tried to get John to leave him at the hospital, but John refused, day after day. At the end of the second week, Sherlock was finally moved to a regular hospital room.

Sherlock's leg was still broken, but healing. Another month, the doctors guessed, before it healed completely. The bruising on his cheekbones was gone, and his bullet wound had 'vanished', leaving a small scar. Many of Sherlock's ribs had healed, most of them just bruised. He was still in pain whenever he leaned up, though.

Mycroft, Molly, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson arrived two days after he was moved to a regular room. Sherlock was greeted with hugs and kisses, well-wishes and large balloons (which Mycroft had gotten Sherlock, probably to annoy him). John spoke very little, his tiredness and hunger starting to take its toll.

{Time Lapse}

A week later, Sherlock was finally admitted to go home. John helped him stand and wheeled him out in a wheelchair to one of Mycroft's cars (John had asked for him to send one). Finally, as they arrived at 221b Baker Street, and a long struggle up the stairs, John brought Sherlock to his bed. He tucked him in, and slept on the floor beside him.

(A/N: Hello, my lovelies! Comment, rate, and follow? It would mean so much. Love you all xx)