Water, water...

[drpsychosomatic]

Who| John and Sherlock
What| John's near-death experience with piranhas
Where| Adventureland
When| Backdated before the fireworks
Warnings/Notes| UST Bromance Piranhas.

They needed water. To that end, John was lugging one of the large, empty candy jars from the gift shop they'd broken into on Main street as they made their way towards Adventureland, where Sherlock assured him there would be plenty. They'd probably need to sterilise it as best they could, which John assumed would be easy enough as long as they could start a fire- but with his military survival training and Sherlock's own expertise both in chemisty and hell-raising, he wasn't too worried about that.

"Are you sure it won't crack?" he asked, tapping his fingertips on the glass as they walked, "Or is that a stupid question to ask a chemist?" 

Comments

[alldeduction]

"You're fine," Sherlock snapped quickly, almost sounding annoyed at having been interrupted during something so important, but really it was nerves.

There was no bad guy to face down, here. No one to show a stoic face to, save the capitol, and he couldn't give a damn about them half the time, let alone now. No. Now he was completely and utterly focused on the blood slowly blooming through John's sodden clothes, of the tiny tears and gashes everywhere.

"You're fine," He snapped again, taking a breath as he leaned down to cut open the side of John's pant leg to get at a piranha that had slipped inside. "Dammit," he muttered to himself as he cut the thing free and a torrent of blood rushed from the wound on John's inner thigh. Immediately, he pressed a hand down hard against it, feeling the warm blood well under his fingers.

[drpsychosomatic]

John groaned, his head falling back heavily and his eyes flickering shut.

"Sherlock, I can't-- I can't help you treat me if you lie to me," he chastised, a mildly pained smile sliding onto his face. "Anything that high up is serious, might be arterial..."

[alldeduction]

"Give me your hand then!" He snapped, grabbing out at it without asking and pressing it close in against the wound. He scrambled to cut a long piece of cloth from what was left of his ragged cape and tie it around John's leg, right at the top, as tight as he could manage.

"Fine. Multiple lacerations, most of them superficial, but three or four losing blood rapidly. Most prominent on the inside of your upper right thigh," he said as he pressed his hand down against John's, hard.

"Piranhas," he explained, belatedly.

[drpsychosomatic]

"Piranha," John echoed incredulously, laughing- his hand shaking with it as he tried to press on the wound. "Bloody piranha. That's... that's a new one. Sherlock... Sherlock, we need to stop the bleeding, need to elevate above the- above my heart..."

[alldeduction]

"Elevate." Sherlock snapped his head up, looking around, but really couldn't see anything useful, so instead he simply grabbed John's legs and hefted them up onto his shoulder so that they were well above his heart.

[drpsychosomatic]

He couldn't help laughing. It was the shock, he knew it was, but he was helpless with giggles- his shaking hand pressed against the most serious of his wounds and his legs dangling over Sherlock's shoulder a far more ridiculous set-up than it had any right to be.

"Like that," he encouraged between bursts of laughter. "God, Sherlock, I'm sorry."

[alldeduction]

Sherlock did not laugh. In fact he found the entire situation far from humorous, and John's laughter only worried him rather than relieved him. He pressed his fingers as hard as he could against the wound, relieved that it wasn't bleeding nearly as much in this position than it had been lying down.

"I don't think it got the artery," He mumbled as he shifted under the weight of John's legs.

[drpsychosomatic]

"Okay. Good. That's good," he said, trying to stifle the laughter bubbling up with every shaky intake of breath. He was shivering, too, though he barely noticed it. "Just got to... stop the bleeding. I'm sorry, I just- it gave way..."

[alldeduction]

Sherlock noticed the shivering, and the slight paling of John's skin. Fire was the next order of business, but not until he could stop the bleeding.

"It's fine," He snapped, wanting to tell John to shut up but realizing he shouldn't. He started to tear off pieces of John's pants and tying them end to end around John's leg. "Just talk me through it, John."

[drpsychosomatic]

"You're doing it right," he assured him, teeth chattering. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to concentrate. "Bandage, then apply pressure. If it doesn't stop in ten minutes, it's arterial and... we'll think about that when we get there."

[alldeduction]

"It's already slowing," Sherlock reminded him through his teeth as he used them to tear the fabric into a long strip. He was forced to release the wound for half a moment as he made to tie the bandage, watching a slow surge of blood bubble from the wound but ignoring it. Once he had the bandage tight he pressed his hand hard down against the wound once more, ripping off a second piece.

[drpsychosomatic]

"Good. That's good," he breathed, trying to exhale as steadily as he could manage. "There's... there's a pressure point. Femoral artery. Right up here..."
He paused, indicating the position by moving his hand over his thigh until it was up by his groin.

"Press it- and over the wound. Should help."

[alldeduction]

Sherlock watched the hand and did as asked, immediately, one hand hard over the wound and the two fingers of his other hand pressing directly to where John had indicated. After a moment the bloodflow did decrease significantly, and Sherlock breathed out slowly, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

"At least we'll have something to eat," He muttered, glancing at the piranhas.

[drpsychosomatic]

John followed Sherlock's gaze to the fat, flopped out piranha, some of them still trying feebly to jump. He sucked in a breath and began to laugh again, clearly less panicked now. He'd picked up on the change in Sherlock's attitude.

"Do you think... do you think that counts as cannibalism," he pushed out, eyes creased up and shoulders shaking. "Glad I could do something useful..."

[alldeduction]

Sherlock couldn't help himself, the relief breaking his stern exterior and a slight, ridiculous smile coming to his lips along with a breathy chuckle.

"I think perhaps if you avoid the stomach contents, you should be alright. Who would have thought that Watsons made such easy bait... Will have to make a note in my survival guide." He didn't move his hands, however, determined to keep them where they were until the bleeding stopped completely.

[drpsychosomatic]

"Think I'll avoid dipping a toe in whenever we get hungry, if it's-- if it's all the same to you," he laughed, teeth chattering ever so slightly where he let his jaw go slack. "Sherlock, I'm-- clearly in shock, which I think you'll have to let me off on considering, but once you've stopped the bleeding..."

He trailed off, knowing full well that Sherlock knew what he'd have to do- and that talking him through it now would be only a fraction more than completely useless, anyway.

[alldeduction]

"Talk me through it," Sherlock said quickly, even though he really didn't need it. But he did need to keep John awake, and thinking. "A nice fire, hmm? I'm sure maybe if we petition we could get a nice meal sent down. Maybe some lemon slices to go with the piranhas?"

The bleeding was slowing, but Sherlock needed to bind it. So he shifted, spreading his hand so that the palm rested firmly on the wound while the fingers pressed into the pressure point so that he could use the other to tear strips from his pant-leg.

[drpsychosomatic]

"Lemon, black pepper, maybe some... some parsley," he suggested with a fairly wide, loose grin, forcing his eyes open. "How's it going? Pressure point worked? Can't really do anything else until we've got the bleeding stopped..."

[alldeduction]

"Can't stand parsley," Sherlock bemoaned lowly, "Basil, maybe..."

With a long riiiiip he tore the first strip free and nodded. "Bleeding's coming down quite a bit. Once I get this bandaged I can take a look at the other bites and then get you somewhere a bit warmer."

[drpsychosomatic]

"Never had piranha," he offered, a low groan escaping his lips as Sherlock shifted. "Not... not sure how well it would go with basil. Not sure I care, actually, god- I'm cold, Sherlock, we need to get me warm..."

[alldeduction]

"Yes, I'm aware," He snapped a little more harshly than he meant as he let go of John's leg temporarily to wrap the strip of pant-let tight around his thigh.

"Two hands, John. And not a doctor. Your clothes are wet. Better to leave them on or remove them?"

[drpsychosomatic]

He laughed, eyes squeezing shut as he steadied his breathing. "You-- any excuse to get my clothes off, it's becoming a habit. I don't know what they're made of- is it wool?"

[alldeduction]

"No. Cotton blend," Sherlock answered tersely as he ripped another piece of his pant-leg free. "Your cape was, but as it's back at the camp--"

[drpsychosomatic]

"Could really use that right now," he groaned. "Cotton... wet cotton's really bad, Sherlock, it leeches heat. You need to help me out of it, we'll dry it and I'll be fine. All right?"

[alldeduction]

"Later. We'll get you back there later," He assured him. "Yes. Fine."

He tied off the last bandage and finally allowed himself to look up - glancing up the bank to where there was a small bush and a tree, shelter enough to keep them out of sight from anyone that might happen upon them.

"I'm going to move you up the bank." He said, pulling himself upright and walking around behind John, slipping his arms under John's armpits. "Then we'll get you out of your clothes. Alright?"