Sunday part 2

"John, John, John… what are you DOING?" Sherlock's peeved voice rang out loudly in the laboratory.

"What? I… er… you said…" John Watson stumbled over his words as he tried to grasp what it was he had done wrong.

"The pink solution goes in to the clear vial and the blue solution in to the cloudy vial… honestly John a five year old could follow those instructions!" Sherlock grabbed the vials from John's reach and threw the contents down the sink. "You will have to start all over again!"

John just huffed in response and set about cleaning the vials to be re-used. He didn't know why but he just couldn't concentrate very well this morning. The last 10 minutes had been filled with exclamations of "John stop that!" and "Dear God why must you be such an imbecile?" and his personal favourite "Hurry John, hurry! There are amoebic life forms that move faster than you!"

Sherlock didn't speak to John for many minutes but then the doctor thought it had more to do with the detective being focussed on the task rather than being annoyed with him. He silently carried out the instructions given to him earlier and then waited for Sherlock to let him know how he could assist further.

As John looked around he observed that most of the Scotland Yard officers were working diligently, though the people nearest him were shooting him pitying looks and making faces at the rude detective's behaviour. Obviously they had heard him shouting earlier.

John hated being pitied, and he especially hated it when it was wholly unjustified. Why did people find his and Sherlock's relationship so difficult to understand? The man is a genius, sure a fairly immature one at that, but still brilliant and deserving of their respect. He glared at some of the people still gazing his way, in the hopes that they would get a life and stop ogling at the pair.

"Ah… excellent!" Sherlock's elated whisper broke through John's thoughts. "Come see this John… we're already getting some fantastic results from this apple!"

John stood behind his flatmate and looked over his shoulder at the finger prints emerging.

"They look great…" John started.

"…and we still have 10 minutes to attempt an even better print! Quickly… grab the remaining chemicals. I have an idea as to how we could improve the powder suspension even further." Sherlock clapped his hands as if to say 'chop chop, get on with it', gaining more negative attention from the officers in the lab.

John groaned having been convinced that they had finished in the lab already and head back over to the mess of bottles and vials on the bench.

"Hey Freak!" John heard Sally Donovan's high pitched voice and turned to see her rapidly approaching their workspace.

"You know… this exercise aint just about science; it's also about teamwork yeah? "

"Then why, pray tell, are you not at your bench helping your team mate out?" Sherlock spoke while continuing his observations through the microscope in front of him.

"I've been watching you, we all have… how you treat John…" Sally tried to argue.

Sherlock looked up abruptly and continued as if she hadn't spoken "Then again perhaps your partner will be able to achieve more without your presence. You are most likely doing her a great favour by leaving her to it. Maybe that is a true example of good teamwork…"

"He's your only friend, hell, he's apparently your boyfriend but you still …"

The sound of glass breaking and a sharp yell of pain from John tore them abruptly from their argument.

"Jesus… bloody… shit, shit, shit!" John was holding his arm, his face screwed up in his attempt to deal with his pain without shouting out.

Sherlock was up and by his side inspecting the wound in seconds.

"Has he hurt himself on the glass?" Sally called.

"No… he has chemical burns from the contents of the broken bottle." Sherlock grabbed the cuff of John's ruined shirt and tore it quickly up to his elbow to reveal the burnt area around his wrist.

"Jesus!" the doctor gasped and stumbled backwards in to the bench.

Sherlock steadied his flatmate and pulled him over to the sink. "This will hurt John but we need to wash away the remaining chemicals on your skin." The cold tap was turned on and he thrust John's arm underneath the water and held him there.

John gritted his teeth against the pain, leaning back against Sherlock's chest for support. He tried to control his breathing and calm down as the cold water numbed his wrist. Sherlock's head was rested gently on his left shoulder, the detective's arms encircling the shorter man in a comforting way but keeping a firm grip on the wounded arm under the tap. John could hear Sherlock whispering words of encouragement and telling him that it would be ok soon.

"John, are you alright?" Sherlock turned his head towards the doctor's cheek.

"Yeah… fuck that hurts though." John replied breathlessly. "Thank you for acting so quickly. I lost my head a bit there."

"Completely understandable, even if you are an ex-army doctor." Sherlock tried to inject some humour in to his voice and it appeared to work as John managed a small smile.

Sally appeared at their side to tell them that the hotel's first-aider was here. They inspected the chemical burn and decided that he could clean the wound and wrap it without the need to go to hospital immediately. John was sat on the floor with Sherlock kneeling behind him, arms still around him and providing support while the first-aider tended to his wrist.

As they finished up, Lestrade had just managed to get rid of the on-lookers until it was just himself, Sally, Sherlock and John with the first aider.

"You should go get that looked at soon, to make sure that the skin is healing properly and that there's no infection. You'll probably be left with an impressive scar though." John thanked the first-aider for his efforts and promised to as he had advised.

"Do you want to stand up?" Sherlock looked unsure as to whether the doctor should move or not; he was obviously suffering a little from shock.

"Yeah, let's get off this floor. I wouldn't mind heading to the dorm though… feeling a little light-headed."

Sherlock hooked his hands under John's armpits from behind and Greg helped by pulling on the hand on his good arm. Together they got him standing and walking slowly out of the lab.

Sherlock left John to doze peacefully in the dormitory, vowing to check in on him frequently in case he developed any more signs of shock. He closed the door to the dorm gently behind him and threw himself in to an armchair in the lounge.

"You look pretty rough." Commented Greg as he took a seat opposite him. "Don't usually see you so shaken up."

"It is incredibly unpleasant to see John in pain." Sherlock stated with a glazed look in his eyes.

"Well the first-aider said that you did all the right things for a chemical burn. I'm sure it could have been a lot worse."

"Certainly."

"He'll be alright Sherlock. Just relax." The DI tried to comfort him. "What time are you boys heading back to London?"

John and Sherlock relaxed in the back of the taxi as it sped towards the train station. They both agreed that they couldn't get home fast enough after the events of the weekend.

John sighed and closed his eyes as Sherlock pulled him close on the back seat, putting his arm around his shoulders and pressing a gentle kiss to the doctor's cheek.

At least they had finally taken that step and changed their relationship in the way they had both secretly wanted. Despite the craziness at the hotel, they would always be grateful that they had attended this particular conference weekend … though they would never feel compelled to attend such an event in the future. It was just too dangerous, Sherlock had said, better stick to chasing criminals across London.