Chapter Text
John had always known it would only be a matter of time before something happened to her. Harry drank far too much and there were only so many times she could get lucky. However, when it happened, he was quite surprised to find out he was listed as one of her emergency contacts. Clara was out of town and couldn't be reached, so John got the phone call. Apparently Harry had tried taking Clara's car while she was drunk and she crashed it, landing herself in a coma in a hospital up north. John had to go up there now and make decisions for her that she couldn't make herself. How was he supposed to know what she wanted? They weren't close enough anymore for John to feel comfortable making any decisions on her behalf. He'd tried calling Clara himself, but he couldn't get a hold of her either. He'd have to go and face this.
He went down to the sitting room with his packed bag and found Sherlock at the computer, most likely browsing for cases. He cleared his throat softly and bit his lip before getting the words out. "I have to go away for a little while. Harry is . . . sick," he said.
Sherlock glanced up from the computer. "Are you just trying to get away from me?" he asked. "Are you still angry about last night? I said I was sorry even though I wasn't really…"
"No, Sherlock, this isn't a game. Harry is in the hospital and I have to go," he said. "I'm not sure how long I will be gone, I will let you know more when I know more." He moved for his coat, setting his bag down to put it on.
Sherlock looked up at him. John looked serious. "What should I do?" he asked. "Am I supposed to -- I mean, what should I do?"
"No, nothing," John said, shaking his head. "I just . . ." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I just have to go make sure she's okay. I'll text you, okay?"
Sherlock looked over at John. Though they hadn't known each other for a very long time, they'd become close in a way that Sherlock hadn't ever really been with another person. He didn't like seeing John upset, and he recognised an urge inside himself to help. But he also knew that the compassion needed in a situation like this was something he really didn't have, regardless of his intentions. "All right," he said. "I'll . . . be here," he added though he knew it was an unnecessary thing to say.
John swallowed hard and nodded. What had he expected? Sherlock to go with him? Why would he? That didn't even make any sense. He knew Sherlock well enough now to know that he was incapable of offering support when it came to emotional issues. John realised he was just overwhelmed -- a mix of anger and worry and anxiety about Harry. "Okay," he said. "I'll text you, then. See you."
Sherlock stood up. He grabbed a book of the shelf from behind him and walked to the door. "Here, take this," he said. "Something to read on the train." He stood awkwardly for a moment and then kind of leaned towards John, patting his arm. "Text me, yeah?" he said, just standing there a bit stupidly.
"Um . . . thanks," John murmured. "I will." He shifted the book to hold it better and offered Sherlock a small smile before leaving. He carried his bag down to the pavement and hailed a cab to the train station. He could hardly think at the moment, so he just went through the motions to get his ticket and his seat, his emotion welling into his chest. It felt tight, and he tried taking deep breaths through it. He held the book Sherlock gave him really tightly.
Sherlock went back to his desk and tried to finish the email he'd be writing. It was to a client and at first he felt unsure about whether or not to take the case since John was gone. Then he thought that was rather stupid -- he'd had cases before John's arrival in his life, there's no reason to sit around waiting for John's return. Then he got up and made a cup of tea, and suddenly he was incredibly aware of how empty the flat was without John. He took his tea to his chair and sat down in the silence.
John woke with a start and, for a moment, forgot where he was. Someone across the aisle was giving him a dirty look and glancing at the child sleeping beside them. When he looked down he saw that he must have woken when he dropped the book he had been holding. He picked it up and looked more closely at it. The book was a thick copy of Shakespeare's complete works. He didn't think Sherlock liked that sort of thing, and it made him smile softly. That's when he realised he wished he could have brought Sherlock with him. It was an odd feeling -- he knew Sherlock didn't do very well with sentiment and comforting others, and yet he had grown comfortable having Sherlock around all the time. His mind drifted to his sister, who was alone now. Where had Clara gone without her? Were they fighting again, or was it a work thing? Had Harry drunk herself stupid because she missed Clara? And why would she try to drive? He rubbed his forehead hard and tried not to let his mind run away with ideas until he got there and saw what was going on. He looked down at the book again and decided a small distraction would be okay. He pulled out his phone.
Your book woke half the car, myself included. Could you have found a bigger one? -JW
Sherlock heard his phone and jumped to get it, before realising that was a bit of an over-reaction. He looked at the text.
Perhaps you should come back and take a different one? SH
I'll have to make due for now. -JW
Sherlock stared at the text and thought about the flat's emptiness. He wanted to say something that would help, but he didn't know what would. So he decided to just be honest.
I wish I could help. SH
I know, Sherlock. There's nothing to do, though. -JW
John didn't know what to say to him -- at the moment he hardly knew what to do himself. He still had a couple hours on the train and he was going crazy.
You can text me about cases and things like that. And don't forget to eat, please. -JW
You've barely been gone an hour and already you're nagging me? Outrageous. SH
John smiled properly.
Someone has to do it. I can't have you ill as well. -JW
His smile faltered a bit but he sent it anyway. He thought of Harry again and squeezed the phone tightly.
I'll eat if I feel like eating. Why isn't Clara taking care of this? SH
She must be out of town. They can't reach her, and I am listed as the secondary contact. -JW
Hopefully you can get her into rehab and then come home. We have a new client. SH
I'm not sure. I won't know until I get there. -JW
John realized he hadn't mentioned the accident. Sherlock must think that she just got too drunk. He didn't correct him. He really didn't have any information yet and opening that door would only lead to questions he couldn't answer just yet.
I'm seeing the client tomorrow. Perhaps by then you'll know when you're coming back. SH
Maybe. I hope it's an interesting case for you. -JW
Sherlock didn't like the sound of that. It seemed like John was expecting to be gone a while. He wondered again if John just needed a break from Sherlock. Is that why he was going across the country just because his alcoholic sister had a hangover? He hoped that John wasn't sick of him -- Sherlock knew he was difficult, but hadn't they found a good balance between them?
We'll see. I think I'm going to go lie down for a bit. Have a safe trip and let me know when you arrive. SH
Okay. -JW
John put his phone into his pocket and, needing to pass more time, started flipping through the book. As he did he found small slips of paper falling out, all of them that seemed to be a part of a bigger scheme, directions to find cigarettes hidden in the flat. He shook his head but found himself slipping them back into the pages he had found them.