Save Yourself

The cab right back was silent. Completely silent. John sat between Sherlock and I, twiddling his thumbs in his usual offhand manner. I was absolutely at a loss for what to say, and it seemed both men were, too.

The dramatics of the evening were whirring through my brain - Derek, my daugher, kissing Sherlo-

Had I actually kissed him?!

...Had he kissed back?

I shook the thoughts from my mind, a migraine spreading across my head. It was all too much to comprehend, entertaining the idea of anything with Sherlock was completely out of the question, it would simply never happen.

We reached the flat in pure silence, the cabbie being heavily tipped due to our rather, er, bloody appearance. That seemed to keep him from asking too many questions, which appeared to be something both men had learned. I expected this wasn't the first time they'd brought someone back covered in blood.

John cleared his throat once we made our way back to their flat, breaking the silence finally, "I'll just go... get some bandages for that." He pointed at the wound near my temple, which I'd just realized was still dripping blood.

"Might want to make that a butterfly stitch. It's deep."

John placed his hand near the cut, grimacing as he did so. John retrieved gauze from a lost corner in the room, before placing it to my hand and signalling for me to hold it there. He seemed to nod in agreement for the stithces, before making his way out of the room in search of something to further cease my bleeding.

Sherlock sat in his usual spot in his chair, staring at the ceiling. I couldn't tell if he was actually ignoring me or if he were off in his own little world as usual. After a few moments, he sat up knocking everything on the table near him onto the ground in anger.

"I cannot allow him to do that again." Sherlock breathed, still not looking at me.

I shook my head, staring at the ground, "I shouldn't have gotten you two into this. We're lucky I'm alive. You or John could have been hurt, or worse-"

"Shut up."

"What?!"

"Just shut up, I'm thinking."

"Oh, well I guess kissing me doesn't change your rudeness." I half-joked, grimacing at the floor. Sherlock seemed to ignore me, again. I guess we were playing the 'pretend that didn't happen' game now.

"You can't stay here tonight." Sherlock breathed after a few moments, striding toward me. He moved my fingers from my head, placing his own down on the cut - hard.

"Ow!" I yelped in pain.

"There's no point holding this here if you aren't going to put pressure on the wound, you know, it won't staunch the bleeding."

I was very aware of his fingers caressing the side of my head, his thumb placed hard over the cut. It sent shivers everywhere, I tried to ignore them. I tried to focus on everything going on, how much danger I was in, but it was so, so incredibly difficult....

"Why can't I stay here?"

"I am certain Derek would follow you wherever you are," He answered, now trailing his fingers down the back - I was absolutely sure he knew exactly what he was doing to me, "However, I know you will not be getting any sleep if you stay here."

"How do you know that?" I asked, taking a step closer to him.

His voice was now a whisper behind my ear, "When you do sleep, lately you have been tossing and turning and shouting your daughter's name. It is as if you knew this was going to happen. Perhaps you can deduce things as well."

I bit my lip, wanting terribly to burst into tears or to ask him exactly what was going on between us, but I knew I wasn't ready for that - and as much as Sherlock may know what he's doing to me, I was certain that would overload him and scare him away. I took a step back, removing his fingers from my neck. He looked away from me, taking his place back in his chair as John walked in.

I turned toward John, allowed him to clean the wound and dress it with the small stitches.

"Not as deep was we thought," John said in a precise manner while placing the covering over the stitches, "But head wounds are known to gush."

"Thank you, John," I hugged him tightly, "Thank you both, really."

I turned to Sherlock while saying that, but he was either back to ignoring me or back in his mind-whatever-palace. John seemed to give me an "I told you so" look, but I wasn't entirely sure if I'd imagined it or not.

Before leaving, John caught hold of my wrist and held me in the hallway. I knew there was something he wanted to say, but he seemed to look back and take note of Sherlock listening.

"We will get your daughter back to you, Kara. No matter what it takes."

"No matter?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I would die trying."

I turned away from John, "That's exactly what I'm afraid of."