Sorry for not updating in a while. I've been super busy... I guess the good news is that this fanfic is not abandoned. Enjoy chapter 11.

Chapter 11

When John came back into the flat, Sherlock was clutching his blanket in a tight grip. He was staring at the door as if he believed that John wouldn't come back. His cup of tea was on the floor, so that he could use both hands to grip the soft blanket. John gave him a small smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Do you need anything Sherlock?" John asked, keeping his distance as if Sherlock was a scared rabbit. Sherlock relaxed slightly in John's comforting gaze, but winced when he spotted the bruises forming on the doctor's face.

"I-I'm s-sorry." Sherlock stuttered, looking down. John frowned.

"What could you possibly be sorry about?" He asked, taking a step forward. Sherlock briefly met his eyes to answer.

"You have those bruises because of m-me." He mumbled, wrapping his wings closer to himself. John approached the rest of the distance, and sat next to Sherlock. He gently released the blanket from the detective's grasp. Sherlock gasped as his hands cramped from being tense. John lightly grabbed one, massaging the stiff muscles.

"Sherlock, you weren't the one who punched me in the face, why the hell would you think that it was your fault?" John switched to the other hand after the first relaxed.

"Because you did it to defend me from my f-father. I'm the reason you were there in the f-first place." Sherlock argued, but couldn't speak loudly. John gently smiled, releasing Sherlock's other hand.

"No Sherlock. It isn't your fault. Did you plan on getting captured? Did you tell your father to hit me?" John waited for Sherlock to shake his head. "Then it isn't your fault." John stood and bent over and grabbed the first aid kit off of the floor. Before he could leave the room, he remembered Sherlock's panicked look when he came into the flat.

"I'm going into the bathroom to clean myself up. I'll be back soon." John warned the detective and turned to do just what he said when Sherlock made a small noise. John patiently waited for Sherlock to speak.

"C-Can I do it? Help… heal your injuries I mean." Sherlock blushed, and was about to take back his offer when John turned back and sat next to him again.

"Is your hand steady enough?" John asked, regarding him seriously. Sherlock scoffed.

"Of course my hand is steady, why else would I offer?" John chuckled, glad that Sherlock could still act like his normal self. The doctor opened the first aid kit for Sherlock.

"Do you know first aid? None of my injuries are an emergency, but I just want to make sure before you start digging in that." John gestured vaguely at the kit. At that Sherlock positively sneered.

"Yes, John." Sherlock took out an alcohol wipe with his good hand he placed the corner of the package in his mouth and ripped it open. He set the package with the wipe down in his lap to retrieve the wipe.

"Are you sure you don't just want me to do it, Sherlock?" John stared at the packet meaningfully.

"No. I've already done the hard part." Sherlock picked up the wipe and leaned forward. John let him, not moving to make his job easier. John hissed as the wipe burned on the few scrapes on his face. Sherlock flinched, fear entering his eyes.

"S-Sorry." Sherlock pulled back and John shrugged.

"It's fine. Those always sting." John assured him. Sherlock nodded and finished cleaning the wound. He then put a few small plasters on the doctor's face. Sherlock leaned back with a smile.

"Thank you." John grinned back at him. Sherlock held his injured wrist close to him while he attempted to zip up the first aid kit with one hand. John helped him by pinning it to the cushions with his own hands.

"How does your wrist feel?" John asked, noting the position Sherlock held it at.

"It could be worse. I can still move my fingers, but I can't move my wrist without it hurting." The detective replied. John paused, thinking.

"You'll have to put it in a sling so that you don't injure yourself more. It could take up to a month for that to heal, but I'll only insist on a sling for two weeks." The doctor left to retrieve it, and Sherlock tensed.

"I'm just going to get the sling Sherlock. I'm not leaving our flat." John comforted the detective. Sherlock leaned back on the sofa, but followed John with his eyes. As promised, John came back with the sling and helped Sherlock put it on. John paused, as if unsure how to phrase what he was going to say.

"Say it." Sherlock whispered, his throat becoming sore again. The morphine was wearing off.

"Right. On the rooftop, what did your father say to you? When he whispered in your ear, I mean." John asked uncomfortably. Sherlock was immediately equally uncomfortable. A long silenced stretched the room. Just as John was about to tell Sherlock that he didn't have to answer, the detective opened his mouth.

"H-He told me that I didn't deserve you. That I was w-worthless, and you would l-leave me." Sherlock stuttered, ashamed. John breathed out, stunned.

"Sherlock, I um-" He cleared his throat before speaking. "Sherlock, I'm not going anywhere. So you don't have to worry." John got a sad look in his eyes before he leaned over to hug the detective. Sherlock froze, shocked while John continued to speak.

"Don't doubt your worth Sherlock, because I'm not sure what I would do without you." John said, still slightly unsure of his words.

"But John, I'm a freak-" Sherlock was cut off by John who pushed him back at arm's length, but did not let go of his shoulders.

"No Sherlock, you are not a freak. I don't care about what other people say." John took a breath, glancing at Sherlock's wings. "And those things on your back do not make you a freak either, they make you unique." John gave him a sappy smile, and for once, Sherlock decided to trust that the doctor knew what he was saying. Sherlock smiled back.

"Right." John let go of his shoulders and cleared his throat again. "I'm going to make me a fresh cup of tea, and you are going to rest. Would you rather stay here, or go to your room? If you choose either, I will stay in the flat, and I will not go anywhere, no matter what happens." John waited politely for his answer. Sherlock composed himself before answering.

"I would like to sleep in my room, but don't close the door. I would like to be able to hear you if anything goes wrong." Sherlock stood, swaying on his feet. The doctor steadied him.

"Alright, I'll walk you there." He said, guiding the detective back to his room. Sherlock fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. John shuffled back into the living room to pick up the tea mug to give himself something to do. He placed it into the sink and slumped into a kitchen chair. He placed his head in his hands and gave a shuddering breath, struggling with his rising emotions. In the end, he gave in and quietly sobbed into his hands.

If you have any questions, let me know. I'll continue updating this, I just don't know how often I will update. I honestly didn't even realize that it had been so long since the last time I updated.

So would you guys want this to be a Johnlock? This is the last chance to say something because it is pushing a platonic relationship right into a romantic one. Happy Pride Month 2019, be safe everyone!