I'll Find You

1.

" Of course he'll find me." Sherlock muttered to the empty blackness. The space just stared back at him, the smile twisting up its lips. It knew that Sherlock was already wrapped up in its arm and the second Sherlock slipped away, he could be enclosed forever. Sherlock fought off the chill down his back, keeping his eyes open, but his energy was fading fast. He was beaten and bruised but the pill he had been forced to swallow was pushing him farther down the trail of darkness. Sherlock knew he had returned the favor with damage, but even a mind like his against three people wasn't going to turn out very well. He had already knew which poison it likely was, the information written on his arm in the pen he had uncovered on the ground. His eyes slid closed, vision starting to go blurry. The darkness cackled when it won and Sherlock slipped into unconsciousness.

~SH~

" 1. 2. 3." A voice.

" 1. 2. 3." The sound quiet, not distant, simply not meant to be loud.

" 1. 2. 3." A whisper that was desperate, all focus on something. Then there was that pressure on his chest, letting up, returning, letting up, returning, and continuing the pattern. What was happening? Then there was this forced air pushing through his mouth. A body was very close to his. Who was it?

" Breathe!" A loud sound came out of the air. Then…what was that pain? A large amount of air was displaced from the surrounding atmosphere and slammed into wanting lungs. Eyes snapped open.

" Sherlock?" The question came out just to be sure they were in the same consciousness. Their eyes met, proof the detective was with him, and John lurched forward. He grabbed Sherlock from the ground until they were both sitting, the soldier's strong arms around him.

" Sherlock." The name rolled off his tongue in near shock the detective was still alive. " I thought I was too late."

" If you continue crushing me, this information might change." Sherlock said. John quickly let go, remembering his medical training. He inspected Sherlock's eyes, pulling his eyelids up to see them better. John would have continued if an arm hadn't appeared in front of his vision. He refocused to see the words in front of me.

" This is what you took?" John held the forearm to be sure.

" Force. Not choice." Sherlock let out. He might be breathing but it was starting to become labored again. There was still poison in his system and it was attacking his whole body. Sherlock felt like he was on fire.

" An ambulance is on the way." John tried to comfort.

" Better be. Soon." Sherlock's voice strained. His hand went to his chest, feeling his quickening pulse. He knew he was out cold but it felt much better than being in this pain. Sherlock's eyes closed, body dipping, but John's arm brought him back up.

" Sherlock, don't sleep. You need to stay awake." John warned.

" It's burning." Sherlock's voice was a whine in his vocal standards.

" You can survive a few more minutes. Aren't you the fearless and ever strong consulting detective?" John attempted to push Sherlock's competitive and prideful side for a response.

" My muscles. Are burning." Sherlock wheezed out.

" I wasn't this much of a baby when I got shot." John challenged. Sherlock glared at him.

" You were only shot in the shoulder. That's not even a comparison." Sherlock's voice returned for an angry retort.

" It's a tactic to keep you awake." John explained.

" It's a pitiful one." Sherlock spat out.

" You're still talking." John countered.

" Not for long." Sherlock's head dipped again, feeling exhausted.

" They'll be here in a second." John attempted.

" I highly…doubt that." Sherlock had to get through quicker breaths to speak now. The poison was gaining weapons in the war with his immune system. John looked over the medical signs, incredibly worried for his state. Sherlock continued to hyperventilate, eyes moving wildly. The doctor felt over his pulse and his concern mounted. The ambulance needed to be here, should have been here, John could only bring Sherlock back so many times. Then, the situation become worse, Sherlock's eyelids closed. His body started to give up in this battle with unfair sides and too many weaknesses. This wasn't good, at all.

~SH~

John was walking through the hallway towards the hospital room. His brisk steps brought him closer and closer to Sherlock. John felt guilty about leaving for a shower but he was covered in grime and blood. He would cross his fingers that Sherlock wasn't up yet, but he really hoped he was. John turned his head, his wet hair weighed down by the liquid, and he saw it: Sherlock, breathing deeply then releasing a sigh out to the air. John felt oddly comforted by this action, feeling Sherlock might actually be missing him. All the panic from before dribbled away and he walked into the room. John waltzed in and right over to Sherlock's bed, appearing with a smile on his face. Sherlock turned his eyes, wanting to sit up, but not willing to risk it. The pain has lessened considerably but his body still strained with his movements.

" Your hair is still dripping." Sherlock noted. John put his hand on his hair then pulled his body back, slightly apologetic.

" I rushed…" John let out.

" There's a towel in the bathroom." Sherlock waved his hand to the door.

" It'll dry pretty soon." John said.

" You will be cold." Sherlock noted.

" What are you, my mum?" John questioned back.

" I think that fact should be very obviously wrong." Sherlock stated.

" It's a joke…you're acting like a mum when you're worrying if I'll be cold." John explained it, eyes meandering over to Sherlock's monitors. They told him he had seen much better days but he would get better in time.

" I never said worry." Sherlock scoffed. John smiled a little then looked back to him.

" I'm glad you're awake." John brought it all back to serious feelings, comforted by the banter. He found a space to sit next to Sherlock on the bed and placed his hand lightly on the covers the surrounded the detective. Sherlock looked down to the touch that would have been on his hand.

" Thanks…um…for that, you know, if you hadn't…" Sherlock trailed off, the full admittance of thanks painful for him.

" Doesn't matter if I hadn't, because I did." John shook his head, trying to not think about it.

" It does…I would have died." Sherlock corrected lightly.

" You were for a few seconds." John admitted.

" How can you back that up?" Sherlock questioned just for facts.

" I found you with no pulse. I'm good at finding pulses. In war. At night. With gunshots, explosions, and much more. I know when there's a pulse or not." John met his eyes to show him there was no possible way he was wrong. Sherlock searched his face then accepted this. His head dropped back to the pillow in a slightly sad movement.

" That makes three." Sherlock stated.

" What?" John asked.

" Three times I've died for a short period of time." Sherlock explained, eyes moving to the ceiling.

" How are we still alive?" John questioned, a semi-sweet feeling in his chest. Happy they were alive, sad it was always so close to ending.

" Our intelligence and skill set." Sherlock said.

" Did you just call me intelligent?" John let out.

" It will not be repeated." Sherlock looked to him, calm face telling the other man not to take it too seriously. John broke out in a grin regardless. Sherlock couldn't pull up any comments to counter this happiness because he could feel it bubble in his stomach. He was alive. Sherlock knew no one else could have found him. Not only would they have needed to know the case and Sherlock's habits, they would need that overwhelming passion to push them forward. If Sherlock did some of the math, John would have been running, full speed, through quite a few streets in London with breath heavy and body straining. Yet, with anything, John was going to be the one that could be depended on. The veteran army doctor, with a crack shot and the heart of partially melted gold, would always run after him, help him, or simply put up with every habit he had. In everything that could happen, there was always John.

2.

John's eyelids fell, a great amount of effort needed to open them again. The dropping eyes were showing his utter exhaustion. His head was bleeding at a steady rate and he knew he couldn't last much longer. The wound had occurred from a particularly nasty surprise attack. The suspect John had randomly spotted on the street and followed had smacked John's head against the brick wall multiple times. He didn't have his gun or the strength to do anything, except lower his body to the ground. John could feel his breaths grow more and more shallow, heart rate slowing down. He forced his eyes to spring open again. John had to stay awake in hopes that someone would find him. His eyelids finally slid shut, chest drooping down to the concrete. A last sentence slipped from his tired lips:

" He'll find me."

~SH~

" Coma's are so boring."

" I'll wait here until you wake up. Even though the sooner you come back the better. It's quite boring in here."

" What if I said please?"

" Do I need to beg?"

" John! Wake up!"

" Please John."

" I would do anything just to get you to open one eye. Just one."

" Could you just blink? One little action to tell me you're in there."

" Do I actually need to find a bribe? Money? Cleaning the flat? What?"

" What can I say John?"

" You haven't been on your blog in quite a while, people are writing in comments. I posted about your condition, and yes, it was easy to find your password. You really need some more originality by now."

" I'm going to do something crazy so you'll be mad at me and will come back just to tell me how childish I am. I swear I will."

" I keep getting looks from the nurses when I talk to you about cases. They just don't understand but then again, I don't think anyone does. We're too complex for their feeble minds."

" If I get a really exciting case, will you come back?"

" I'm really tired of doing all of my cases in this hospital room. They've started to let me shower here. They are being oddly nice, I think Mycroft did something."

" John, I'm so bored. Entertain me."

" If I insult you, will you return just to quip back? I wouldn't usually admit it, but you come up with some very good ones. Especially when you're mad."

" John! Wake up already!"

" I remember the look you gave me when you realized I use drugs at times. You don't understand how amazing it is to have my mind cleared by the chemicals. The altered reality leaves me without a body to deal with. It's quite wonderful. I'm telling you this because I want to do something. I'm so bored, John, I need something to make it go away. But you could make it go away. If you wake up, I won't do anything. That's my deal. I'll give you 2 week."

" I'll start using the filing system if you'll wake up."

" Your condition would dictate that you could hear me but, if you can't, I'm going to feel like a moron. I never feel like that but you will make me. What are you doing to me John?"

" It's been 2 weeks. Wake up."

" Bloody hell how can you just lay there! Come back to me John!"

" If I keep yelling the nurses are going to give me tranquilizers. I'm debating it."

" I've realized in this time of your sleep that you give me many looks in a day. I've missed these expressions, they're so easy to read but the messages they express are humorous. Even the angry ones. It's funny to watch you be mad mainly because I know at some point you'll forgive me, just as I forgive you. Although, you forgiving me is much more commonplace."

" I'm sorry, John. Is that enough to get you back? I'll repeat it a million times."

" You know, any kind of message would help my sanity. Move your fingers, move your eyelids, cough. A cough would feel like magic right now if you could just make it happen. I don't even believe in magic, John, but it would be."

" Please come back."

" Just open your eyes, John. That's all I want."

~SH~

" I can't keep doing this, John. I'm going to go crazy." Sherlock shifted in his chair until his feet found the ground. He pulled his exhausted body to standing and shuffled towards the door. Sherlock felt guilty, not just a little, but this full on emotion that he couldn't take the boredom. He prided himself on being able to control his mind but now it was too much. His brain would fizzle into nothingness if he had to continue this one side-conversation.

" S…D…" The sounds of words that couldn't full form slipped into the room. Sherlock paused at the doorway. Did he really hear that? The detective turned, slowly. John's head rocked a little back and forth, body trying to get him to wake up. Sherlock, in his quick return to the bed, made the chair clatter to the side. He ignored it completely and waited for another sound to come out.

" Sh…ck. D…n…le…" John's mouth was still almost closed, the sound barely there. His closed eyes tensed in effort, the tan eyelids scrunching in to wrinkles. Sherlock flipped through possible filling in letters in his head until he found the only sentences that made any sense: Sherlock. Don't leave.

" I won't if you'll come back." Sherlock said, almost ordered, knowing how close the army doctor was to recovery.

" I…tr…" John mumbled out.

" You're trying. I know. But you have to do it." Sherlock pressed further. He squeezed on to John's hand. His eyes were intent on John's face, watching every tense and release. Sherlock wished he could dip his hand into John's consciousness, give him a helping tug, and bring him back. It had been weeks, only 2 days away from a whole month. Sherlock had stood by this bed, waited, watched the daily caring for the doctor, and the flow of visitors. There had been long one-sided speeches and literally poking at John's side to see if that would get him awake.

Mycroft had waltzed in many times with his usual advice, telling Sherlock to go back to the flat, leave for a few hours, but Sherlock ignored it. Finally, his older brother had sat with him when he had time. Lestrade had done the same thing but, mainly, he would have cases in hand when he entered, almost like an offering to be allowed in. Harry had made appearances. There had been an uncomfortable encounter with Sarah. Mrs. Hudson had popped in on occasion to check on her nearly vanished tenants. Even Molly had popped in with homemade muffins, going in between visiting John and trying to care for Sherlock. The detective shut the attempts down per usual but, in his desperation, he would speak to her.

" Sherlock." John's voice was finally clear if not a little weak. Sherlock picked up his head and saw John facing him, eyes opened and a smile starting up his face.

" I could hear you." John whispered, making the message just for the detective and no one else in the world. Sherlock barreled forward and grabbed John up in his arms. It was oddly caring for the detective but nothing different in his track record with John. It seemed no one else would ever matter as much as John did to Sherlock. It was just a given. Sherlock squeezed him further, shifting his arm to not push at the IV. John's arms were squished against his body giving him no space to move but he just smiled. Of course Sherlock would choose the most awkward hug possible.

" Could you let go for a second?" John questioned. Sherlock paused then released the other man. He had a pang of guilt that he had overreacted to the situation. John shifted his body then wrapped his arms around Sherlock. The detective was validated in his reaction and hugged John back. They held each other tightly; gripping on to the other body as if when they released the hug they would disappear.

" You chose a new route to get back from the store." Sherlock said, quietly.

" I thought I would change my routine." John let out. Sherlock spread his hand on John's back to say: don't do that. The detective was still slightly worried even when John was in his reach. He remembered running through London, trying to find any sign of the other man. Sherlock had gone all the way to the store and doubled back, adapting for any misstep or change in plan John could have had. He finally, after what felt like years, ended up in an alleyway. Sherlock had almost missed the other man but he smelled that one and only scent of the army doctor. John was passed out, spread out on the ground, blood dripping from his head. Sherlock had tried to wake him up but John was out cold.

" How long have I been out?" John questioned.

" 3 weeks, 5 days." Sherlock answered, holding back the hours he had been counting.

" That's almost a month. Jesus, I missed so many bills." John let out.

" Taken care of." Sherlock answered. John paused for a second then pulled back slightly. Their eyes met, John revealing his confused expression.

" You went into my bank account?" John questioned.

" It's not high security, John." Sherlock answered.

" How did you get in?" John said.

" Your pin." Sherlock stated.

" Okay, how do you know that?" John questioned.

" Random numbers are never random." Sherlock brushed it off.

" You saw me type it in at the store, didn't you?" John asked, angrily.

" Yes, yes I did." Sherlock admitted, smile coming up his face.

" Stop going past all of my security…but thanks." John grinned back. Sherlock nodded, releasing his grip on the other man. He could feel his mind shrink away from the affection he felt towards John. Sherlock wanted to tell him how worried he was but he kept his lips shut. John knew it already anyway. Sherlock found his body back in the chair.

" Can I see your arm?" John reached out his hand. Sherlock scanned over his face then his eyes fell to the arms. He rolled up his sleeves until both his forearms were exposed. He revealed them to John, who searched them for any needles marks. John even trailed his finger over the skin just in case they weren't obvious.

" I didn't do anything, John." Sherlock stated.

" I thought you gave me 2 week." John looked back up to him.

" 2 week, a month, time is all relative." Sherlock shrugged, playing it off like nothing. John smiled with the knowledge that there was much more underneath the calm composure.

" Good job." John patted Sherlock's head. Sherlock gave him a look but allowed the fingers running through his soft flop of hair. John pulled out one of the curls, lightly, and watched it spring right back into place. This gained a smile from the once comatose man. John was happy to be awake, exuberant that he wasn't stuck in his subconsciousness. The world had been confusing, like a month long dream, but through everything he could hear Sherlock's voice, from the first crying out of his name when John was found to the last words before John opened his eyes. In everything that could happen, there was always Sherlock.