beyond the gravestones (sherlock/johnlock fanfic)

Chapter 3

When John woke up, he instinctively reached out for Rosie, but his hand didn't touch either her smooth skin or the cold wood of her crib. He looked up and saw Sherlock looming over him, a mixture of worry and relief evident on his face. He reached out and caught Sherlock's hand, while Sherlock clutched his just as hard - as if he was the one drowning.

"Rosie." John croaked, "Is she okay?"

"She's safe, but there's a very slight possibility of motor damage. They won't let me see her because I'm not immediate family." Sherlock replied.

John closed his eyes again, breathing deeply. He still felt woozy from the sedatives. Sherlock squeezed his hand and he squeezed back. Strangely enough, it felt perfectly natural that Sherlock should be at his side, holding his hand and comforting him. He had no idea what was going on in his head, but he knew that he would've been perfectly content to lie there, fingers intertwined with Sherlock's, if he hadn't been so worried about Rosie.

Eventually, a doctor came in and cleared his throat. Sherlock rose to leave, but the doctor smiled at him. "It's alright, you can stay here while I examine your boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend." John said automatically, and then a stroke of inspiration suddenly hit him. "He's my fiance."

Sherlock gave him an odd look, but it only lasted for a split second, and he quickly caught on to what John was doing. "It's set for next week." he said, beaming at the doctor, "But we might have to postpone it...it all depends on little Rosie." He pretended to sniffle, and John was sure that a significant part of it wasn't fake.

The doctor sighed. "All right." he mumbled, writing something on his notepad and giving it to Sherlock, "Take this pass." Sherlock snatched it and ran out of the room.

The waiting was agony, every minute of it. John answered the doctor's questions as well as he could while craning his neck to watch out for Sherlock and news of Rosie. The doctor told him that he should stay for the rest of the day, that they would release him in the evening. John just nodded along, barely listening. The doctor had just left when Sherlock's soft footfalls were heard and he entered.

"She doesn't look too bad." he informed John, "Small bandage on her forehead, that's it. She's sleeping, but it's natural, not drug-induced. Apparently your body absorbed most of the impact. They said there'll be more news by the evening."

John wasn't too relieved. What if she was permanently impaired in some way? He should've paid closer attention to where he was going, stopped the cabbie while they were still in the busy parts of London...

"She'll be fine." Sherlock said softly. John looked up to see Sherlock staring at him intently.

"Maybe not."

"Maybe." Sherlock agreed, "But whatever it is, we can all pull through. Humans are built to withstand much more pain than they give themselves credit for."

John closed his eyes again. His head throbbed painfully. "She's all I have left of Mary." he said, before slipping into deep slumber.

***

Sherlock spent the day alternating between Rosie and John's rooms, seeing to it that they were fed and watered. Rosie slept for the most part. The few times that she threw a tantrum, Sherlock was there to pick her up, and she would almost instantly cease her crying. As soon as she fell asleep, he would run to John's room. If John was asleep, Sherlock held his hand, not caring if anyone saw him. If he was awake, they talked about Sherlock's case, the missing cabbie and Rosie's condition. When John awoke, Sherlock would try to pull his hand away, but sometimes, he wasn't fast enough. On these occasions, John didn't try to disentangle his fingers. Sherlock put it down to the sedatives.