thoughtformed | [Voice]

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[Voice]

I know that this is probably the absolute perfect time to be saying this... but for the next few days, possibly even longer depending on circumstances, Baker Street Surgery will be closed unless there's another doctor or healer who would like to take patients.

[ There's the sound of John straining a little. ]

I'm afraid that due to a.. rather debilitating injury in my shoulder.. I won't be able to perform any emergency medical procedures. If you need a signature for a prescription or advice on first aid, I'll be happy to provide, but I'm afraid my own medication will be keeping me home for the time being.

Please, everyone, be safe.

[Text to Sherlock Holmes]

At the Surgery. Need help getting home. Please come.

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On my way.

[ When Sherlock arrives, the front door sign has been flipped to 'Closed', but the door remains unlocked for him. There is a trail of blood from one exam room to another. John is sat on an exam table in Exam Room Two, looking pale and trying to tear tape with his teeth and his one good hand. ]

[ Sherlock takes in the state of the place with a single sharp glance, but other than the blood, there's nothing to indicate a struggle or anything amiss.

in the doorway to the exam room, his eyes go wide, and he removes the space between them in two quick steps, his hands already outstretched to begin helping. ]

Tell me what to do.

Oh thank God.

[ John looks visibly relieved that Sherlock has arrived. He hands over the roll of medical tape and plucks up the bit of gauze he'd managed to cut, holding it to his freely bleeding shoulder. His coat and shirt had long been abandoned, and he looks as though he's about to pass out at any time. ]

This. I need you to tape it to my shoulder. Maybe.. round the shoulder a couple times.. Keep the pressure tight.

Don't know what happened. I was seeing a patient and all of a sudden my injury just... it sort of burst. It was like I'd gotten shot all over again. God she was so horrified.

Edited 2014-01-25 05:18 (UTC)

[ Sherlock does as he's instructed, only releasing John's shoulder to pass over it with the gauze and promptly pressing down again, smearing blood all over his hands. the story makes no sense, but Sherlock is used to that by now, so he takes it as it stands. ]

I'm sure she'll recover.

How does that feel? Secure?

[ John reaches up to check the bandage and nods, laying back on the exam table as dizziness takes its toll on him. ]

Seen loads of it today... People coming in with old wounds reopened... D'you think it's got to do with the Island acting up again?

[ without prompting, Sherlock cups the back of John's head and helps lower him to the table, leaning over him to peer back and forth between his eyes. ]

People were coming to you with prior injuries returning and you didn't think, oh, you know, I've got a rather impressive one I should keep an eye on?

[ it probably doesn't take a genius to know that his snappish tone is the clear result of his spiking concern. ]

You know these things hardly ever get me. Frankly, I was more worried about you. God knows all that you've been up to.

[ John laughs a little bit and drapes his good arm over his eyes. ]

I need something. In my lab coat, there's a set of keys in the pocket. The small silver one opens the medication stores... Find me some painkillers.. Vicodin or Oxycontin would be best. Please?

Mm. Shall I write you a list?

[ with only the briefest moment of hesitation, allowing himself to linger by John's side for the span of a heartbeat, Sherlock snatches up his abandoned coat and fishes out the key easily. Once he finds the cabinet and opens up the shelves, he pulls out a box of syringes in one hand, and a small vial of clear fluid in the other. without sparing another second he begins filling the syringe even as he returns to the table. ]

Don't worry, I'm quite good with these.

[ John turns to look at him, frowning a little. He'd expected some pills, but morphine would do in a pinch... He wouldn't complain. ]

Better hope you've got your strength. Not sure how well I'll be able to walk if you give me some of that.

[ With a great deal of difficulty and a series of suppressed groans and what likely could have been screams had he not bitten them down, John sits up again and holds his deadened left arm out. ]

[ sharply: ] John, for God's sake, don't move. [ his touch firm but gentle, Sherlock presses John back down to the table before administering the morphine expertly. ]

I'm sure I can get you to the kerb just fine. The cab is waiting for us. Just -- stop straining yourself. Do you remember exactly what the medics did for you when you were shot the first time?

Not any more than we've done already... I went into surgery pretty quickly and... well, I only remember feeling them digging the shrapnel out.

[ He sighs a bit, already beginning to feel relief. ]

Just... bring some supplies to the flat. I'll need them. Until the bleeding stops, I'll need constant pressure to it.

Are you okay?

Not really, no. My shoulder wound.. It's opened back up. But no need to worry, I've got it patched and should be home soon.

Okay good.

[ When he does get home, it's obvious Shinichi made some attempt at making tea for when John got home but it might be a little bit too strong. ]

[ she goes back and forth on sending this; likely sherlock had everything under control, but if she'd taken care of shinichi and sherlock while they were sick.. it seemed wrong not to offer. ]

Can I do anything to help?

Just... try to keep Sherlock distracted. I don't want him worrying too much over me.

It must be bad if you're asking me to do that.

I'll be over in about an hour, once he's had time to get you settled. I'll bring him something to focus on.

Do you need a hand at all, Doctor Watson?

[A little wavery, and with an edge to it that might be suppressed panic, Sheska's voice is still clearly audible and full of concern.]

Doctor Watson, do you need an ambulance?

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