Friday, December 23, 2011

Point of Origin, part 3 revised

Okay, I managed to write more of my pon farr fic. (The one where Sherlock is a Vulcan.) This is a continuation of the short part 3 that I posted a while back. I'll go ahead and repost the whole chapter here.

Fandom: BBC Sherlock/Star Trek
Story: Point of Origin
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Warnings: slash, rated R

Point of Origin, part 3

Within days, Sherlock tried to get back to his regular life by resuming his experiments and pestering Lestrade for cases. Lestrade had nothing to interest him at the moment, though, and told him to rest up. Sherlock pouted and played his violin in a bad mood.

John had already called Lestrade a few days ago to tell him about Sherlock being in the special clinic. He had told the DI to be sure to tell Donovan that she was wrong about Sherlock's supposed "blood lust."

"Of course she was. Never believed that rot about him being a sociopath for a minute. Hmm, so Sherlock's in a posh treatment centre? I'd always wondered where he'd gone to get off the drugs."

"Drugs, plural. Was he on a lot?"

"Everything he could get his hands on. When I caught him, I arrested him and tried to get him into a hospital to treat him, but his brother somehow got him released and the charges dropped. Brother or no brother, I told Sherlock that I'd never work with him again unless he was clean. He finally agreed, and disappeared until he got better. Then he took to experimenting with the corpses at the hospital instead of himself. His brother apparently got him access, so I guess the posh git's not all bad."

And apparently Molly's crush allowed Sherlock even more privileges, such as taking body parts home and never returning them.

"Mind you," Lestrade continued, "it was rather rude of Sherlock and his brother not to tell you about this clinic stuff before. Would've saved you some worrying."

"Definitely," John agreed.

He soon got Sherlock to tell him what to text Mycroft should there ever be another emergency and Sherlock not be conscious.

Sherlock said, "No special code. It's not all cloak and dagger with him. Text whatever details are important. If you are pressed for time, though, and wish to be succinct, then text him, 'liver failure'."

"Liver failure?"

"Yes. Mycroft knows I am not an alcoholic, and you are not an incompetent doctor. Therefore he would realize something else was seriously wrong and track my phone's location to find me. He'd check CCTV cameras also to know anything else he needed to send."

"I see." John made note of this and hoped Sherlock and Mycroft were not still holding anything back from him.

Then something else happened, showing that they definitely were holding something back from John.

Several days later, Lestrade finally called with a new case, and Sherlock started to put on his coat but frowned and changed his mind. "It's too warm."

"Glad you noticed," John said, not even wearing a jumper over his shirt this time.

So Sherlock just went out wearing only his elegant suit.

John thought he looked smashing and was glad that Sherlock was not too cold anymore. In the cab, though, Sherlock missed having deep pockets to put his hands in, and he was restless as he talked about the case Lestrade had called him for.

John told him to make sure he took it easy, and not to go running off alone.

Sherlock sighed and leaned back as he closed his eyes. "Yes. Yes, you stay with me."

"Glad to." John looked at him softly and wished Sherlock meant more than that.

At the crime scene, everyone was surprised to see Sherlock without his coat. They hardly recognized him, and it even made Lestrade do a double take. He forgot to say, "Welcome back" or any other polite greetings.

Sherlock snorted irritably and told them all to stop gawking. Then he strode past them to get a pair of crime scene gloves and put them on. John followed.

Finally Anderson said, "Thank God. No more contaminating my crime scene."

"Shut up, Anderson!" Sherlock said, without any of his usual witty retorts. He went to the body and examined it.

Anderson went to grab a plastic suit and held it out to Sherlock. "Here. You can fit into one now."

Sherlock smacked his hand away and told him to get out of the room. He very nearly snarled with his bad temper.

Anderson scoffed and handed the suit to John. Then he left the room with Donovan, who had decided to not say "freak" in front of him, since he was still recovering.

As John put on the suit, Lestrade stood next to him and asked in awe, "How'd you get him to stop?"


"Stop wearing his coat."

"I didn't. He just finally noticed that the weather was too warm for it."

Lestrade gave him an odd look. "I've known Sherlock for five years and he's never shown up without that coat, no matter the temperature."

John looked at him in surprise. "What? You're kidding."

"No, I'm not." He whispered, "It's part of why Donovan thinks he's a freak. Said he was unnatural and cold-blooded."

"Stop whispering behind my back!" Sherlock said.

"Sorry." They were silent for a while, until Lestrade looked at his watch. "Sherlock?"

"What?!" he snapped.

"Have you got anything yet?"

Sherlock did not immediately reply. "He was, um, stabbed."

"Yes, and?"

Sherlock frowned, with his eyes closed, and he seemed to struggle with every word. "Red blood. Oxygenated. Adult human heart...250 grams."

Lestrade interrupted, "Uh, yeah, fine but what about his murder?"

"Quiet!" Sherlock put his hands to his temples and tried to concentrate on the question, but he couldn't, biting his lip.

John grew concerned. "Are you all right?"

Sherlock grunted and gestured for him stay back. He peered at the body again, but his hands seemed jittery, shaking as he held his magnifier over the stab wounds.

John stared in horror.

Lestrade leaned in to John to whisper, "Do you think, because it's a stabbing...?"

Before he could finish asking if Sherlock was traumatised, Sherlock dropped the magnifier and whirled round on them.

He got up from the floor and rushed forward, suddenly snatching John's arm to pull him away from Lestrade.

"Ow, Sherlock!" He'd been a little too rough, like in the alley after being stabbed.

Lestrade started to protest, but Sherlock glared at him to keep back. Just as abruptly, he turned to John and spoke intensely, "Stay with me. You said you would."

John blinked in bewilderment. "Er, yes. I'm here," he assured, but loosened Sherlock's grip on his arm. "But are you okay, Sherlock? Is it the stabbing?" Then he noticed that Sherlock was sweating, and he reached to feel his forehead for a fever.

Sherlock looked at him deeply and touched their foreheads together, repeating in a rough voice, "Stay with me."

John felt embarrassed, but he cleared his throat and tried to stay calm. He moved his hand to the side of Sherlock's face, and he nodded. "Sherlock, you're burning up!"

Lestrade asked, "He's not well? What is it? Some infection from the stabbing?"

John couldn't answer because Sherlock was half closing his eyes and leaning against him like he might collapse. "Sherlock!"

"You'd better take him home. Here," he approached and tried to help John support his flatmate, but Sherlock stood up and grew fierce, shoving Lestrade away again.

"Hey!" Lestrade stumbled back.

"Sorry," John said, and turned Sherlock around so they could head to the door. "Come on, behave yourself."

Sherlock went along with him, keeping his arm wrapped around John's back. He also glared at everyone else at the crime scene as they left the room.

Lestrade called after them, "Take him to hospital if necessary. Don't bring him back until he's completely well."

John nodded and went out the door. Both Anderson and Donovan came back in, confused by the sudden departure. Lestrade just beckoned to Anderson and said with a sigh, "Come on, you wanted the crime scene to yourself, didn't you?"

End of part 3. Continue to part 4.

Now to just get them home and into bed! ;) Anyway, I know Sherlock has been seen on the show just wearing his suit without the big coat, but let's call that part of the alternate universe.

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