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Emergency Contact	By : RueRambunctious Category: S through Z > Sherlock (BBC) > Sherlock (BBC) Views: 1534 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock Holmes or any related adaptations (inc. Professor Moriarty) and make no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 9
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Arty had retreated upstairs after their altercation, and refused the day's final does of painkillers. Sebastian had not held out much hope for a warm reception at bedtime, but had not expected that. It came as a relief that Arty was persuaded to take the antibiotics.

The resultant pain from the refusal makes Arty unable to sleep. He does his best not to draw attention to himself and let Sebastian find slumber, but his subdued restlessness and distress sing along Sebastian's nerves.

The disgraced soldier tolerates this for two unpleasant hours then sits up in bed. Arty lies facing away, fidgeting almost imperceptibly beneath the covers.

“Take the bloody tablets Arty,” Sebastian intones.

The brunette keeps his face turned away. His frown deepens. “Keeping you up, am I? This isn't the only bed you know.”

“It's not my sleep I'm worried about,” Sebastian grumbles. “You're blatantly in pain: take the painkillers.”

“No,” Arty mumbles.

“Why not?” Sebastian asks in an exasperated voice.

“They fuzz up my head,” Arty mutters.

“Being in pain isn't going to fuzz up your head less,” Sebastian protests. “Have you looked at the packaging? They didn't start you out on the baby dose; you're on strong meds because you need them.”

“I don't need anything,” Arty retorts, turning around with a glare. “I can cope with a bit of pain.”

“But you don't have to,” Sebastian states firmly.

Arty sneers and gets out of bed, intent on hiding out in one of the smaller bedrooms.

Sebastian reaches out and catches Arty's hand. Arty freezes and looks down before twisting out of the light grasp.

Sebastian's arm remains outreached for a moment, the sensation of Arty's racing pulse still ghosting upon his fingers. He draws his arm back.

Arty takes in the motion, his gaze flickering. His lower lip drops into a small 'oh' of contemplation.

“Please take your pain relief,” Sebastian presses softly.

Arty looks close to tears, and Sebastian can only surmise the pain of the deep slashes is significant.

“Fine,” Arty whispers.

Sebastian's mouth spreads into a genuine smile that makes Arty frown with confusion.

“What do you want to drink with them?” Sebastian asks brightly.

Arty shrugs. “Water will do.”

Sebastian snatches up the glass by Arty's side of the bed and trots through to fill it with cool water.

Arty blinks and shuffles towards the box of tablets. Although always stubborn, he is relieved to have been persuaded. He bloody hurts, and it's all he can do to suppress the shudders as he forces back the persistent urge to cry.

Sebastian returns promptly with the water. Arty knocks back the pills, ignoring how the cool water can't quite ease the burn from the back of his throat.

“Thanks,” the brunette mutters.

Sebastian stares.

“Oh, shut up,” Arty grumbles.

“I didn't say anything,” Sebastian protests softly.

“Your face says enough,” Arty explains.

“Sorry,” Sebastian states mildly.

Arty huffs, placing down the glass and pulling back onto the bed.

Sebastian steps around it and sits down on the mattress. “Want me to wait up until you feel better?” he asks.

Arty looks at his feet. “Don't bother; get some sleep.”

“You sure?” Sebastian asks.

“I'm fine,” Arty says. “Well. I will be fine.”

Sebastian slides down on the bed as though to sleep, but Arty knows the man remains awake quietly until Arty himself is dreaming.

They both sleep late, but Sebastian is pleased upon waking to discover Arty has scooted over to Sebastian's own side of the bed during the night (yet again).

Sebastian's bladder complains, but he ignores it in favour of prolonging Arty's sleep. Even though Arty is drooling on Sebastian's chest, ignorant of the scar tissue under the vivid ink.

Sebastian cannot bring himself to mind the saliva. The pressure of Arty's slighter body on top of Sebastian's own please the ex soldier in a way he knows is dangerous.

The bandages on Arty's forearms rub against Sebastian's skin. Sebastian wraps his fingers lightly in Arty's own, feeling safe in the knowledge that Arty is asleep.

Arty does not wake for an age, and Sebastian pretty much dives to the bathroom the moment the boy sits up.

Arty wipes wetness from his mouth and wonders why he keeps finding himself on top of Sebastian. The young man is not a trusting sleeper, nor comfortable being tactile. He looks around as Sebastian returns, looking relieved.

“Sorry,” Sebastian apologises. “Couldn't wait.”

Arty gives him a quizzical look. “Was I trapping you?”

Sebastian smiles with amusement, as Arty's too light to pin him without Sebastian's consent. “I just didn't want to wake you,” he shrugs.

Arty's gaze is unreadable.

“You ready for your meds?” Sebastian asks, recognising Arty's need for a distraction.

Arty agrees quickly, wanting to avoid last night's pain levels very much, and Sebastian is relieved at the lack of protest.

“What do you want to eat with it?” Sebastian asks.

Arty stretches out a little, careful of his wounds. “Anything. I could help you, if you like?”

Sebastian blinks at the offer. His voice is warm when he responds, “You can help me later. Right now I just want you to get all the rest you need, alright?”

Arty nods softly, sliding down into the space Sebastian vacated. It's warm, and smells like Sebastian, not that strange familiar scent from the other day.

Sebastian smiles at the relaxed look on Arty's face and heads downstairs.

Arty drowses whilst he waits, and upon Sebastian's return he cannot help but admit to himself that he enjoys the sight of Arty in his bed.

Arty rouses as Sebastian sits on the mattress, one side creasing down to accommodate the weight.

“Here,” Sebastian says gently, “plenty of nutrition in this to keep you strong.”

Arty takes the food, his gaze flickering from Sebastian to the crockery, and eats obediently. Sebastian tilts his head at the sensation of being watched, but pops the tablets from their blister packs efficiently.

Arty finishes and takes the pills without complaint.

“Your bandages need changed today,” Sebastian announces blandly, hoping that yesterday's resentment will not keep Arty from accepting help.

Arty merely nods. “When suits you?”

“I'm free all day,” Sebastian states.

Arty does not want to examine why that comment pleases him. It's hard enough ignoring his aching body without tolerating his turbulent mind. “Do you mind if I sleep a bit more?” the brunette asks.

“You can sleep all day if that's what you need,” Sebastian declares. "We can bandage you up tonight."

“Will… will you stay?” Arty requests bravely.

Sebastian's face reads surprise for a moment, but he quickly schools it into casual acceptance. “Of course.”

Arty isn't sure why, but that helps.

However, it does not help enough to prevent a nightmare. Sebastian shakes the unmarked piece of Arty's shoulder, disturbed by the way Arty's forearms raise defensively in the troubled sleep.

Arty is pale when wakened, but does his best to pretend he is unshaken.

“I'm here,” Sebastian reminds him soothingly.

Arty looks across quickly, and considers for a beat.

Sebastian gazes at him in fond concern.

Arty blurts, “My real name… it's… Jim.”

Sebastian blinks and digests that information as though it's not surprising to hear. He had not expected the teen to give up personal information easily, but he does not want to stress 'Jim' out by reacting thus.

“Got a second name to go with that?” Sebastian asks.

“Moriarty,” Jim says clearly. “Jim Moriarty.”

Sebastian considers. “Mori- like <i>memento mori</i>?”

Jim's thin lips curl up a little in a smile. “I guess so.”

“Moriarty,” Sebastian muses. The way he says it makes Jim's stomach twist in a way he might just like.

“That's kind of like 'artistic death',” Sebastian comments. “Little spook.”

Jim gives him a sidelong look, his lips still a little twisted at the corners. “You know what day it is, right?”

“No,” Sebastian says. “Other than the day you told me your name. Why?”

“You might not want to call me a spook on Hallowe'en,” Jim suggests.

Sebastian snorts. “You're right: you look far more like a vampire.”
- 9
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- 11
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Emergency Contact