Finished version. Not bad. Got lazy (oh what a surprise!) and decided against a background.
Why yes, John IS wearing Sherlock’s PJs.
John groaned as Sherlock attempted to help him up the stairs. The stairwell was narrow and, honestly, Sherlock wasn’t really helping.
Besides, it wasn’t Sherlock’s fault he’d decided to start the bar fight to distract the suspect (whom they caught by the way.) And it wasn’t Sherlock’s fault John had decided to start it with the burliest man in the pub, who happened to be wearing the biggest rings John had ever seen.
No, John thought as he collapsed into his chair, his jumper covered in blood, only partially his own; and beer, it wasn’t anyone’s fault but his own. He voiced this to Sherlock, leaning back as much as he could to watch the other man move about the kitchen.
When Sherlock didn’t answer John furrowed his eyebrows in concern. “Sherlock?”
Again, Sherlock didn’t reply, and John made to move from his chair. Suddenly Sherlock appeared beside him, holding a cup of tea and an old pair of pajamas. “Don’t.” He demanded quietly.
John stared up at him.
“Here. I’d change out of that jumper if I were you.”
“Those are your pajamas.”
“Yes. I.. I want you to be comfortable.”
John stared at him for a moment before taking them and moving slowly towards the bathroom.
He looked a lot worse than he felt, he realized, as he dabbed at his wounds with anaseptic. He sighed, realizing that he couldn’t bandage the cuts on his side by himself, and pulled on Sherlock’s blue dressing gown to go ask for help.
Sherlock was silent as he placed the bandage, and even once he’d finished, his hands didn’t move from their soft hold on John’s hips as he sat on the edge of the counter.
John watched as Sherlock’s eyes traveled along the cuts and now forming bruises along his chest, and slowly up to his face.
"John.. I.. I do, apoologize. I never meant for you.." Sherlock swore softly to himself, looking back down.
John smiled softly at him. “Sherlock, I did it because I wanted to help. It was the only way to confuse Selden enough to get the jump on him.”
Sherlock waved him off slightly, “Yes, but that could have been accomplished without you needing bandages.”
John’s eyes widened, when he realized that Sherlock was concerned about him. Thoughts he’d attempted to push back resurfaced, rambling on through his brain.
'You're in love with Sherlock Holmes.'
Sherlock looked back to him. “Yes?”
John gaped momentarily, before grabbing the front of that bloody purple shirt and dragging Sherlock’s lips to meet his.
Sherlock’s hands moved around his back, and he stepped towards John.
When they separaed, both breathing heavily, Sherlock grinned.
"I hope you enjoy the dressing gown."