Warms My Heart (Lucas Fowler & Nerdygeekflower's Johnlock RP)

[ChampionOfTheMorningStar]

@Lucas Fowler


Sherlock was sitting in his arm chair with his foot propped up on the coffee table. It was icy and he had tripped on his way across the street. Violently. With the murder on the other side. Lestrade had gotten the murder and Sherlock had gotten a telling off from John and had been helped back to the flat. His ankle was turning black and really really hurt. John was saying something in the kitchen where he was gathering his medical kit and ice. Sherlock made a noise in John's direction


"Nrrrmmm Johhhhn"

 

[Lucas Fowler]

"Yeah, hold on Sherlock, I'll be there in a minute." John finished wrapping the bag of ice in a thin hand towel. It could be anything from a twisted or sprained ankle to a broken ankle; either way, Sherlock would almost certainly refuse to go to the hospital. So if it was a broken ankle, he'd have to set it himself. He hurried into the room and handed Sherlock the bag, instructing him to place it on his ankle and keep it there, or the swelling would get worse.


"How's the pain on a scale of one to ten?"

 

[ChampionOfTheMorningStar]

Sherlock took the ice and set it on his ankle. "What am I comparing it to?" He asked, experimentally moving a toe about. That hurt so he stopped. "It's a ten if hitting your ulnar nerve is a one... a six if a bad concussion is a one... a one if a burst appendix is a one... Is this helping?" Sherlock said looking up at John. His stare was pretty blank, and dull. "Can I have some ibeforen? or Vicodin?" 
(( a three line response. I am so sorry.. block block block...))

 

[Lucas Fowler]

"Yeah, I get the idea. Can you handle a painkiller?" John was slightly reluctant to talk about Sherlock and drugs, seeing as the detective never did and seemingly never would, but he didn't need Sherlock getting hooked again. He raced upstairs to his room and grabbed his medical kit, debating on whether or not Sherlock would lie to him or if he could trust him. Of course, it wouldn't really be fair to leave him without a painkiller, but John wasn't particularly thrilled about a potential relapse into substance abuse. On the way down, taking two steps at a time, John rustled through the bag and grabbed the bottle of pills. As he arrived, he popped two out and handed them to Sherlock. "Do you need water?" Something in his heart twisted at the pained look on Sherlock's face and he didn't know what it was.

 

[ChampionOfTheMorningStar]

" I don't need water I was a drug addict." Sherlock dry swallowed the pills easily and looked up at John. "Are you going to look at my foot?" Sherlock asked lying back against the chair, slouching. "It hurts..." Sherlock added almost weakly. It wasn't weak though since Sherlock was never weak, his kindergarten teacher had called him 'immune'. Immune to everything, his feelings, his life, his soul mate. Sally had made that quite clear, no one would ever love Sherlock enough to make his heart glow, and warm, there was no one that could.

 

[Lucas Fowler]

John knelt down and gently rolled Sherlock's black slacks up, wincing a little as he saw red, purple, and other colors all converging around his ankle. It was a nasty series of bruises and knots. "Alright, hold on." John rumaged through his bag pulled out the supplies he needed to re-set the bone. "This is going to hurt." John glanced up to Sherlock and then laid his hands on his ankle and forced the bone back to where it should be. (as you can tell, i obviously have no idea how this sort of thing works)

 

[ChampionOfTheMorningStar]

((I can not give you a full reply because the apple drones took my laptop, if you like I can give a short 1-2 line reply or we can wait a couple more days, I just am letting you know I have not abandoned you.))

 

[Lucas Fowler]

/// You can wait a few days. It's totally fine. ///

 

[ChampionOfTheMorningStar]

Sherlock grunted at the pain in his ankle and then in his chest. It was like being punched in the face, only not as painful and almost nice. He reached to his chest and clawed at his shirt. "John?" He could feel it through his shirt, fire, warmth, love.... no love wasn't a feeling you could touch. He didn't love, he didn't have a heart. John did.... "John? John?!?"