‘Is that it? Is that all you’ve got?!’ he shouted spiting blood as he yelled.
‘What, asking for it now, make you hot does it faggot?!’ the older boy spat as his fist slammed into the side of John Watson’s bloody and bruised face. ‘Well we’ll defiantly help if you want it that bad. Your faggot boyfriend not rough enough?’
John’s legs were shaking and he knew they wouldn’t hold much longer. A knee slammed into his gut, he crumpled to the floor his hands scrapping against the concrete trying o push himself back up. He smashed against the concrete again as a foot met his jaw. ‘Come along Sebastian. I’m bored. Lets go get slushies!’ the bullie said cheerful before leaning down close to John, his breath hot against John’s ear. ‘Bye cripple see you on Monday.’ And they left. Left John, lying cold and bleeding on the ground.
Maybe I’ll die…
It’s so cold……
I don’t want to die….
‘Hmm what a nuisance.’ Someone huffed.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
‘Mycroft. I need you to pick me up. No! I found someone who needs to go to the hospital- yes! No I’m not lying. Of course he’ll die. What! Why would I call an ambulance you're so much quicker? Fine!’
His rescuer bent down his chin rested on his finger tips as if he was praying, he wasn’t. John couldn’t really make out anything else about the man his eyesight had become too blurred, his whole body shivered. Before John Watson finally passed out he felt the soft weight of material against his skin, it was warm and smelled nice and with a raspy sigh everything went black.
‘Hello! Glad to see you awake!’ John’s eyes burned as he took in the sterile white of the hospital room?
‘Uh.. excuse me but how did I get here? I don’t- I don’t remember.’ He croaked as he tried to sit up.
‘Oh honey don’t try and sit up, you’ll hurt yourself.’ She cooed, as she gently adjusted his iv. ‘I’m just going to give you your painkillers love, then I’ll leave you to sleep.’
‘No time to chat now. Busy, busy. Buzz if you need anything.’ And then she disappeared.
‘Hmph!’ John huffed as he flopped back down, instantly regretting it. ‘Bloody hell! Stupid pillows, why do they have make them so hard? Good for a pillow fight though I guess.’ He rambled away to himself, completely unaware of the young man watching him from the doorway.
‘Yeah the painkillers don’t really do anything for the pain they just make you loopy.’ The stranger said, his eyes examining every visible part of John Watson, checking every mark, every injury, as he stepped further into the room until he was practically in bed with John. The stranger stared as if John was a new and exiting discovery. ‘You have quite the complexion for bruises.’ He added waving a finger at the deep purple mark (on his collar bone) that coloured his fading tan.
‘I’m not one of those funny coloured birds you know-’
‘I didn’t-’ the stranger tried to cut in but John was still rambling.
‘Nor- nor am I a new species-es-es of cat what is made of jam.’
‘You do know your speaking nonsense?’
‘Nonsense! Now kindly take your teapot and leave I wish to snooze.’ And for the second time in 24 hours John Watson was unconscious.
The next day
‘Greg! Why are you here?’ John asked surprised by the sudden appearance of Gregory Lestrade, official best friend and the best rugby captain West Baker High had, had in a long time.
‘Well I had to visit didn’t I.’ he said a grin appearing.
‘What are you smilin’ at?’
‘You look right daft with two black eyes, sorta like a panda. Specially with your nose all scrunched up like at’
‘All right get out!’ John said in mock seriousness.
Greg stayed until lunch, he probably would have stayed longer but a grumpy nurse kicked him out, stating that visiting hours were over.
Two days later
Bored. Bored. Bored.
‘Oh. Hello.’ The dark haired stranger was back again, still staring at him as if he was something interesting; it was beginning to be annoying, although at least he was talking to John. ‘Um I suppose I should say thank you, you know for uh saving my life I guess.’ John continued with his eyes down, he really must seem stupid. Stupid for getting beaten up, for almost dying, for speaking rubbish. Stupid for taking three days to say thank you to the person who’d saved his life, the person who he’d seen ever day…
‘It was the moral thing to do.’ He said sounded almost robotic from the lack of emotion, lack of anything in his voice.
‘You could come in if you like.’ John asked shyly ‘You know sit down and talk or something.’
‘I don’t see why not.’ He replied sounding slightly shocked but sat down on the chair none the less.
‘Are you going to tell me your name or do I have to guess?’
‘Uh guessing is boring.’
‘So tell me what your name is?’
‘You know if you don’t tell me I’m going to give you a name.’
‘Sherlock.’ He mumbled into his blue scarf.
‘Pardon?’ John said with a grin.
‘Sherlock. My name is Sherlock.’
‘Well hello Sherlock, I’m John Watson.’ he let his hand extend offering it up for a hand shake.
‘I know.’ Sherlock said, he looked quite confused by John’s action.
‘Yes I figured that out myself but this is the polite way to introduce yourself don’t you think?’
‘Sherlock Holmes.’ He said meeting John’s hand with his own awkwardly.
‘Pleasure to meet you.’