Chapter 17

"Oh my god it's raining! Sherlock, what the hell are we going to do now?"

"Shh, John, I'm not suppose to be here remember? How are you going to explain talking to yourself?"

"I don't know but I swear to god if that paint comes off and you end up standing here completely naked I'm pretending I'm not with you." John shot back, eyes darting about desperate for an escape.

There was a loud sigh coming from the empty space beside John, "Like I said back at the flat, I'm pretty sure I've dyed the skin to some extent, it doesn't come off- not that easily at least, but the rain wont exactly be going through me and I rather not be on display as the invisible man while freezing to death and soaked."

John did his best to flag down a cab but the sky seemed intent on raining harder with each passing second and no cabs were in sight.

"John, hurry up, I'm shaking and there's no way people are so unobservant they wont see the floating water in my hair."

John groaned, they really couldn't risk standing there any longer. He began marching off rather irately, "Come on then, we're taking back alleys and don't you dare wander off."

It was a long walk back to the flat and even John was getting cold from the rain, he couldn't imagine how miserable Sherlock was. He only knew he was still there by the soft pattering of bare feet behind him.

"I don't suppose you would lend me your jacket?" Sherlock's voice began stuttering with the chill air.

"It's your own fault you're in this situation you know." John made no move to remove his jacket.

"I… I know. This was perhaps a poorly advised idea and would have been better tested in warmer weather."

John considered handing it over, beginning to feel a bit sympathetic as well as not wanting to take care of a sick stroppy Sherlock when they got back to the flat. As he went to unzip it however a noise at the end of the ally caught his attention. Sherlock remained still, trying hard not to shiver.

The clattering sound grew nearer and John walked with his head down pretending not to notice it until four young men came into view. One had been kicking a stone against a trash bin until they spotted John seemingly walking alone.

"Hey there, out late old man, shouldn't cha be inside stead of the cold?"

"Just walking home." John tried brushing him off.

"Yea?" One boy stepped closer with a strange swagger about him, both hands kept in his pockets. "That close by?"

John felt an uneasiness about the situation, wanting to be out of there as soon as possible. Another boy rounded him from the side. "Got any cab fare to spare?"

John felt his hands balling into fists at his side, he was a damn good soldier in his day, but he knew he couldn't take on four men at the moment.

"What? No fare?" The boy casually picked up a near by pipe that they had likely brought with them, John instinctively took a step back- wrong decision. "Oi he looks scared doesn't he? What's wrong old man? Get nervous out in the cold?" he trailed the pipe against the wall to make a light dragging noise.

John wised up and stood his ground wondering where the hell Sherlock was. He tried thinking of something witty to say to get himself out of there, not realizing the pipe and consequent sound was really a diversion. To his right one of the boys bolted for him, grabbing John by the waist and forcing him to the ground. John pushed back but had already lost his balance, landing on his bad shoulder as he hit the ground and winced in pain. The others were on him in an instant, kicking freely. The boy with the pipe raised his weapon high, moments before sending it flying down at John's head he was suddenly pulled backwards by an unseen force. The other three were to occupied to notice, two of which had kneeled for fist assaults and to grab John's wallet.

"Get the hell away from him!" Sherlock's voice was loud and booming, filled with fury.

One of the boys instantly stood back up, pocketing the wallet and looking around but saw no one, "Who's there?" He could have sworn the voice had been directly next to him.

The boy with the pipe staggered to his feet, "Something attacked me!"

John was curled up on the ground in a fetal position, arms blocking his already bruised face, the boy still kneeling at him hitting anything he could. Sherlock kicked him under the chin, sending the boy reeling backwards with quite a deal of pain.

"There's a fucking ghost, get out of here!" he could feel his face already swelling as he stood and made a wild dash to run down the ally followed by his accomplices.

John's phone laid partially smashed next to him, Sherlock grabbed it before ducking down by his side and putting a cautious hand on his good arm.

"John?! John are you ok? Say something." Sherlock sounded every bit as frantic as he was.

A small moan like sound escaped John before coughing up a fit of blood and laying still in attempt to reduce the pain.

"John, hang on, I'm calling an ambulance."

Sherlock stayed by John's side holding his hand despite John's weak grip as they waited for the ambulance to arrive. Lestrade and three other police cars arrived at the same time. Greg instantly ran to John's side as the paramedics lifted him onto a stretcher.

"God John, what happened? I came as soon as I heard the report?"

John was unresponsive other then his eyes briefly flickering open before shutting again, an oxygen mask already in place.

Lestrade's eyed darted around, "Where's Sherlock? They said he called it in?" He didn't notice John's hand seemingly grasped around nothing not the soft sound of footsteps climbing into the ambulance after the gurney. He tried calling Sherlock mobile to no avail.

A/N: omg it's been an eternity since my last update on this and I am so sorry for that.

I am still updating the stories my profile says I'm updating, more regularly from now on at that.

Next to be updated should be Friendship is Ageless