[audio]

[worldsonly]

Ms Adler. If you've experienced any particularly grievous injuries over the last couple of years before your arrival here, be prepared to deal with them again. Don't bother with the hospital, obviously, it'll be full of idiots coming in to cry about papercuts and old stove burns.

If not, it would perhaps be in Shinichi's best interest if you looked after him for the next few days. John is -- not well, and I don't -- ggnk --

[ there's a clatter, then the sound of violent choking for several seconds as well as a scratching, as if fingers were being scrabbled over the surface of the phone, until it disconnects and sends the audio. unfortunately (or fortunately?) for Sherlock, the buttons he unintentionally selected were for the public option. ]

Comments

[amberalert]

Did you just die?

[worldsonly]

[ after a very long moment: ]

no

[amberalert]

Are you dying?

video;

[herrin]

[ she'd been listening to this in mild amusement, knowing that obviously it was meant to be private - and he'd truly messed that one up. but as soon as he cuts off, she starts, out of her seat and lunging toward her phone. ]

Mr. Holmes?!

[ later, she will strictly and completely deny that she sounds concerned. ]

[worldsonly]

[ for a short time there's no answer -- then, even when he picks up the phone, Sherlock doesn't answer for several moments, wheezing hideously. he's on the floor, the camera phone slightly askew, and the skin around his throat and over his mouth is already bright red and mottling into purple. ]

Nn. C-- cc--

[ nope, reliving a violent strangulation attempt is going to make talking difficult for a while. he waves his hand to indicate he's not in any more danger, instead. ]

[herrin]

[ from the sound of her footsteps, she's hurrying up the street (but not running), struggling with her composure along the way. john was in the house and so was shinichi (she hoped), so he wouldn't die before she got there, but really. that was a horrible noise. ]

For someone so annoyingly clever, you make extremely poor decisions.

[ there, that sounds a bit like her. ]

[worldsonly]

[ that rhythmic hacking could almost be a laugh. or his throat spasming. ]

action.

[herrin]

[ she doesn't even dignify that with a response, instead rounding the next corner to where their house was and not even bothering to knock - she tries the handle, finds it unlocked and pushes the door open, bursting into the hall and lo--

oh. there he was.

she dropped down to the floor next to him, feigning an exasperated sigh. ]

You know, all the dramatics are getting a bit old.

[ have an offered hand. ]

[worldsonly]

[ he pulls himself into a sitting position with her help, fingertips tenderly feeling out the borders of the bruises on his neck. the funny thing is, he's been strangled so many times he's not even sure which one he's supposed to be reliving. he'll have to find out what they look like and deduce from there.

wheeze, croak. ]

I'll -- hhhh -- keep that... in mind.

[herrin]

[ she reaches for him with her other hand, gently tipping his chin up so she can examine his neck, though she doesn't touch. tsk, tsk. ]

Raise your arms, put your hands on your head. It'll help you breathe.

[ don't ask how she knows. maybe she's had similar bruises before. ]

[worldsonly]

[ his hands and his eyebrows go up at the same time, the expression on his red face saying clearly that he has his own theories as to her experience with breath restriction. ]

It's, hhhah, Christ... It's fine.

[herrin]

It's not. Not yet. But it will be.

[ sorry, she's not falling for that. but, she will sit herself next to him without heed for her white skirt, avoiding jabbing him in the side. ]

Lifting your arms raises your ribcage, it allows your lungs more space to expand when you breathe.

[ because he's an insufferable know-it-all and would probably want to know why. ]

[worldsonly]

Yes, thank you. [ the eyeroll he gives her is that of a scolded child. ] It's not my first... attempted throttling.

[ except he'd have probably just laid there and wheezed for a while until john needed another dose of analgesic or something, so her intervention is probably for the best. still, good luck getting him to admit it. she's not wrong, he is insufferable. ]

[herrin]

Somehow I'm less than surprised.

[ two can play that game. but if he's insufferable, she's equally so at times, so they really can't compete. it doesn't bother her to just sit here, next to him, until he feels he's ready to stagger to his feet. ]

Where is the good Doctor? In bed?

[worldsonly]

[ no one ever seems to be surprised to hear about how many times people have tried to kill Sherlock...

he nods, flinching slightly at the strain it puts on his neck. ]

Having a nice cuddle with the good drugs.

[ he does go to pull himself up now, looking increasingly better-colored in the face if not the throat, and pulls out his phone to use as a mirror and peer at the marks. ]

[herrin]

[ she follows behind him when he stands and hesitates, before pressing a hand against his back to steady him. she's eyeing the marks herself, much harder when he's not on the ground. ]

What happened?

[ to john, to him. and why was she still ok? ]

[worldsonly]

Well, old wounds are coming back. His was a bullet hole.

This one's less exciting, attempted murder by giant Czech assassin. Could have been any number of worse things, really.

[herrin]

Old wounds.

[ she's pale, suddenly, though she doesn't offer any sort of explanation. perhaps she'd gotten off lucky, this time. ]

Could have been much worse, I imagine. Still, you ought to have a cup of tea. I'll put it on.

[ let's just .. bustle into the kitchen before he uses that ridiculously keen brain of his. ]

[worldsonly]

[ amused: ] Naturally. Tea for all ailments.

[ he doesn't miss her reaction -- of course, that was why he'd been trying to warn her. it didn't take a detective to deduce she might have a bit more than a few bumps and bruises in her background, and that's not even taking into account how he found her in Pakistan. ]

We brought home half of John's clinic, so if you wind up needing something, it's at your disposal.

[herrin]

We are English, aren't we?

[ come now, sherlock, don't stoop to denying tea.

she sets the kettle on, pulling out two mugs and teabags for herself as though she owns the place (though she doesn't, she knows where everything is), and nudges a chair out at the table for him. the look she throws him is clear - sit. now. ]

Did you find him? After he was .. reinjured?

[action]

[heartofbakerst]

[ From the bedroom, John calls out in a sleepy sort of voice. ]

Sherlock? Sherlock, is everything okay?

[ Odd... What's that sound? John drags himself upright and wobbles from the bedroom and in his drug-addled state, has to catch himself on the door frame in his surprise. ]

Oh.. jesus.

[worldsonly]

[ NO GOD HE'S FINE, HIS BRUSH WITH DEATH WAS BRIEF AND NOT AT ALL DAMAGING, THIS IS EMBARRASSING. there wasn't even an attacker to fight off, it was just there one second and gone the next. he's laying on the floor with giant palm-shaped bruises blossoming over his throat and mouth gasping for breath, but as soon as he sees John is up he nearly does himself in again trying to sit up and wave him back to bed. ]

[heartofbakerst]

[ John seems unconvinced. His steps are a little wobbly, but he manages to make it over to Sherlock and kneels down next to him. ]

I'm injured, Sherlock, not an invalid. Let me have a look, will you?

[worldsonly]

[ it's fortunate for both of them that Sherlock's ability to form words is hindered by his crushed windpipe, otherwise he'd probably point out that since John's injury is the one that got him invalided from the war, technically he does count as an invalid. instead, Sherlock can only make a skeptical face at him, wheezing harshly, half-raised from the floor. ]

[heartofbakerst]

[ He sighs at Sherlock's expression and reaches out with his good hand, leaning in to examine his neck. ]

What the hell..? It looks like you've been strangled. Who was it? Was someone just here?

[worldsonly]

[ Sherlock rolls his eyes and huffs indignantly, tipping his head back with a wince to allow John easier access. ] Apply some -- hhhah, hhhhah, thought to it.

[heartofbakerst]

Hm?

[ He pauses to consider, and finally, slowly nods. ]

Ohh.. right.. old injuries... I'd nearly forgotten. Let's see...

[ John leans a little closer, carefully examining the bruises. ]

Hands this large... the.. Golem?

[worldsonly]

[ since Sherlock can't see them, he'll have to take John's word for it. the placement does fit, at any rate, so he delicately shrugs his assent. ]

Sounds... hhn, plausible. Could have been -- worse.

[heartofbakerst]

Well let's pray it doesn't come to that. Can you stand?

[ He rises to his feet and holds out his hand. He doesn't exactly look perfectly steady, though. ]

Maybe you should take the bed for a little while.

[worldsonly]

[ the expression on Sherlock's face makes it very clear how little he thinks of that plan. ] Don't need... bed rest-- hhh, for a little throttling. You do. Come -- come on.

[ he waves off John's hand, his instability not escaping Sherlock's notice, and pulls himself up using the wall as support. ]

[heartofbakerst]

Sherlock, I'm fine. I'm a little.. messed up from the painkillers but.. I'm not completely useless. I have been shot before. I just want to make sure you weren't seriously injured..

[worldsonly]

[ eyebrows soaring at John's indignation, Sherlock can't help but smirk a little, bruised lips quirking up. ]

Doctors really do make, hah, the worst patients, I see. Sit down and you can -- examine me at your leisure.

[heartofbakerst]

We just don't like being told what to do by people who think they know more than us.

[ John laughs a little and smiles as well. ]

Fine.

[ He then turns for the bedroom and has a heavy seat on the bed. ] Come here, then.

[worldsonly]

[ with the occasional cough: ] God, I can't fathom how you managed in the Army, then.

[ still, he keeps a careful eye on John as they go, more concerned for him than for the swelling pressure of his own throat, and sits down easily enough. the faster John can be satisfied that Sherlock is in no more danger than he was the first time around, the faster he can go back to bed and continue recovering. ]

[heartofbakerst]

You might be surprised at what the promise of world travel and a decent pension will let you put up with.

[ Once Sherlock is near enough, John reaches out to lift his head and more closely examine the area. The bruises had grown quite a bit darker just in the few moments since Sherlock had been grabbed by this unseen force. He's breathing and talking, so there's likely been little damage to his trachea. He lets his hand cup Sherlock's neck, rubbing the muscles in the back and examining for swelling or injuries with his fingertips. ]

Looks like you check out for now.. if you have any trouble breathing or think something might have torn, you'll tell me, won't you?