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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
- 7
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- 9
Arty sleeps throughout most of Saturday, ensconced in an enormous teeshirt and curled amongst the thick, twisted duvet. When roused he appears downstairs only to graze quietly and accept the medication Sebastian offers.

For all of Arty's limited appearances Sebastian is still very aware of the additional presence in the house. It's not the first time anyone else has ever stayed here with him, but it is the first time the company has been so domestic as to merely sleep and take medicine.

It is a strange sort of intimacy regardless of the emotional distance between the two young men. It unsettles Sebastian, but he cannot deny that he enjoys the company (even if the company spends most time upstairs asleep). Perhaps Sebastian is simply too used to the fraternal nature of army life, but having Arty in the apartment makes Conduit Street somehow easier to tolerate.

Sebastian tidies up quietly before retiring to bed.

Arty seems groggy but more than half awake. He follows Sebastian's movements with a mildly suspicious look, but when Sebastian merely climbs into bed with the obvious intention of sleeping, Arty relaxes a little and pushes his feet towards him.

Sebastian is surprised by the forthright gesture, but puts it down to Arty's sleepiness and perhaps a vulnerability born from the savage wounds marring the small frame. “Good night, Arty,” Sebastian says softly.

“We didn't go over house rules,” Arty comments lightly, his voice slightly less scratchy than before.

Sebastian turns around, careful not to dislodge Arty's feet. “I thought your sleep was needed more,” the man explains.

“Want a thank you?” Arty asks.

Sebastian grimaces. “I'd rather you got some rest. You're badly hurt.”

“I look okay from the back still,” Arty presses.

Sebastian leans back against the pillows. “House rule one, Arty: don't presume you're only here so I can fuck you.”

“Well it's hardly for my conversation, is it?” Arty points out.

“I like that stroppy tongue of yours,” Sebastian admits. “I imagine you'll berate me with it more once you feel better.”

“So what do you want now?” Arty asks.

“I want you to stop asking stupid questions and get some more sleep,” Sebastian says mildly.

“But what do you get out of it?” Arty asks, leaning up attentively.

Sebastian sighs. “I was a soldier for a long time; I protect people.”

“You don't seem like a do-gooder,” Arty says slowly, scowling skeptically.

“I can be a very flawed person and still not want you to die of infected chest wounds,” Sebastian says reasonably. “It's not a pretty death.”

“What is?” Arty asks, eyes shining with intelligence.

“None that I've seen,” Sebastian admits. “Now unless you want a bedtime story I suggest it's time you closed your eyes and got to sleep.”

Arty snorts. “You got many baby books lying around, have you?”

Sebastian slaps the teen's thigh lightly. “I'll have you know that I can manage without. Haven't you heard the one about the bandaged little brat who wouldn't go to sleep?”

Arty smirks. “You'll have to tell me.”

Sebastian sits up and performs the actions in time with the story. “His much maligned nursemaid had to tuck him in and then gave his forehead a goodnight kiss and told him to quit stalling and start snoring.”

Sebastian flops back down comfortably. Half hidden under the covers Sebastian has wrapped carefully around him, Arty gives him an odd, muted look. Recovering quickly, he lightly quips, “I prefer the one where the nursemaid gets scorched to death by a dragon.”

“You can have crispy bacon for breakfast, you ghoul,” Sebastian replies good-naturedly.

Arty hums in agreement then wriggles down to get comfortable. Both young men fall asleep quickly.

Arty is the first to wake, surprised and mildly disgusted to find himself on top of Sebastian's warm, comfortable body. His neck is cradled between Sebastian's torso and the strong arm curled around him.

Arty sighs and slowly eases away from the cozy position.

Sebastian wakes at the movement, his eyes finding Arty's in the half-light. “Are you okay?” he asks.

“I need the bathroom,” Arty lies quickly.

Sebastian nods and closes his eyes again easily. His expression is relaxed.

Arty retreats to the bathroom for a lack of a better plan. He catches sight of his face in the mirror: the scab across his mouth is healing.

His mouth feels disgusting. Arty gazes contemplatively at Sebastian's toothbrush for a moment then grabs it for something to do.

Arty returns to bed with a clean mouth, not especially tired anymore, but uncertain what else to do. Sebastian is warm, and in the chill of the morning, the sun barely risen, Arty cannot stop himself from creeping close.

“Don't read anything into this,” the brunette grumbles.

Sebastian glances up at him drowsily. “I know, I know: you're not a hugger.”

Arty gives him an unreadable look, then turns his head and edges closer to the heat radiating from Sebastian's side. Sebastian smiles a little, softly, and returns to sleep.

Arty glowers at his bed partner without much malice. He watches Sebastian's sleep deepen then wriggles closer, determined not to let the larger man wake first to notice.

The morning light grows and spreads until eventually the room is awash with whiteness. Half asleep, Arty notices Sebastian begin to stir and eases away.

Sebastian wakes slowly, rolling onto his side to observe Arty.

The brat gives him a cheeky smirk. “Morning.”

Sebastian's gentle expression turns mildly amused. “Morning, Sasslips.”

“They're healing,” Arty confides smugly.

“I'm glad you're happy,” Sebastian comments.

Arty snorts softly. “That might be an exaggeration.”

“Tiny mind,” Sebastian confesses with a grin. “I only deal in extremes.”

Arty snorts less kindly, thinking of Sebastian's polemical nature. Sebastian seems to recognise the insult in the noise and smirks back easily.

“Where's my breakfast, nursemaid?” Arty asks pompously.

Sebastian laughs, falling back onto his back. “Fine,” he smiles good-naturedly. “What would sir like?”

Arty's gaze flickers. After a beat he recovers, “You promised me bacon. Black. Don't set the fire alarm to a caterwaul.”

“No promises,” Sebastian grins. He pulls himself up and pads downstairs.

Arty wriggles into the vacated heat and waits.

Sebastian returns with a tray laden with bacon rolls, two bottles of sauce, the medication and a carton of orange juice. He carries two glasses in his other hand.

“Not bad, soldier,” Arty comments.

“Not a soldier any more,” Sebastian confides casually. He sits down on the bed and hands over the tray. He places the glasses on the beside table and states, “I didn't know whether you'd want sauce, or which.”

“I don't have much preference,” Arty comments, covering one roll of bacon in red and the other brown.

“I didn't notice whether the hotel gave you with bits or without,” Sebastian continues. “Is this good.”

“Mate, I will consume anything,” Arty declares with an arch of his brow and</> an eye-roll.

Sebastian knows the words aren't funny, but he cannot help but laugh at Arty's mannerisms.

Arty seems to know it, and graces him with a faux scandalised look.

“Stop it, or I'm going to get crumbs everywhere,” Sebastian protests.

“No skin off of my nose,” Arty declares playfully, taking a large bite out of his roll. “Nursemaids make the bed, right?”

“I thought you didn't want spanked?” Sebastian retorts dryly, feeling comfortable enough to joke about it.

Arty gives him a dirty look. “I still owe you</> a sore arse for what you did to me in that taxi,” he growls.

Sebastian's lips twitch, surprising Arty a little. “I think I'm safe for at least a week, given the nick of you,” Sebastian states playfully.

Arty gives him a dark look of promise that makes Sebastian feel a thrill of fear and pleasure.

Sebastian reaches around for a glass. As he leans forwards Arty bows down and brings his teeth against Sebastian's rear.

The man yelps, laughing hoarsely as he turns and covers the damp circle with his fingers. “Wild creature,” he mutters. “That'll bruise.”

Arty tilts his chin upwards challengingly, his lips pursing in amusement.

Sebastian rolls his own eyes and places his fingers lightly over the bottom half of Arty's face. “Don't, brat, it's too tempting.”

“Tempting to what?” Arty replies with a look of faux innocence.

Sebastian merely comments, “You're talking an awful lot for someone with a raspy throat.”

“One of us has to raise the level of intelligence in the conversation,” Arty answers, his lips brushing temptingly against Sebastian's hand.

Sebastian sighs, taking back his hand and wiping it on his thigh. He finishes the last of his own roll swiftly and remarks, “I'm going for a shower.”

“Scared you'll ravish me, Basher?” Arty asks tauntingly. He takes his pills.

“You wish,” Sebastian retorts. He showers quickly, noting the damp state of his own toothbrush as he reaches for it. It gives him pause, as there is something oddly intimate about knowing Arty had used something Sebastian often put in his own mouth.

Sebastian brushes his teeth and returns to the bedroom with a towel wrapped loosely around his hips. “What colour of toothbrush do you want?” he asks.

Arty's lips curl. “Should I care?”

“Well I've got blue like my eyes?” Sebastian smirks, “Or green like Ireland? Pink like...”

Arty gives him a dry look. “Pink like my arse after you yanked down my trackies?”

Sebastian's lips curl into a smile. “Pinker.”

Arty predictably rolls his eyes. “Blue. I'll picture chewing your eyeballs every morning.”

Sebastian laughs. “You creepy little fucker.”

“You have no idea,” Arty murmurs. The way his eyes glitter dangerously draws Sebastian's interest.

Arty has shoved the tray aside, but takes a long drink, watching Sebastian speculatively from over the rim of the glass. “So why aren't you in the army anymore?” he asks.

Sebastian makes a face.

“Tell me,” Arty goads in a raspy sing song voice.

Sebastian sighs and sits down on the bed. “I was a naughty boy.”

“You weren't before you signed up?” Arty drawls in disbelief.

The corners of Sebastian's lips twitch. “Perhaps they thought they could knock it out of me.”

Arty takes another sip, watching Sebastian thoughtfully. Sebastian braces himself for further questions about his past, but Arty merely asks, “So what are the house rules then?”

Sebastian blinks. “No cutting me up into little pieces,” he jokes.

“Big ones fine by you then?” Arty comments, eyes glittering.

Sebastian snorts, and he would have thrown something if Arty didn't have a glass of orange juice held over a white duvet. “No irreparable harm. To either of us.”

“So boring,” Arty huffs.

“In the job description of nursemaid right under 'endures much eye rolling',” Sebastian replies, standing and crossing over to the chest of drawers. Searching out clean clothes he asks, “What rules do you suggest?”

“A regular bashing?”

Sebastian gives him a sour look. “Your abs aren't shredded: they're in ribbons. You're in no fit state.”

Arty gives a theatrical sigh, although Sebastian senses the teen is relieved.

“Speaking of your chest,” Sebastian continues, “your bandages need changed today.”

Arty shrugs, but his playfulness deflates a little.

Sebastian pulls on boxers and joggers, padding back towards the bed. He sits down and crosses his legs casually. “No rush though; whenever you're feeling up to it today.”

“Might as well get it over with,” Arty mutters reluctantly.

Sebastian washes his hands and fetches some medical supplies. “You want to shower first or just want me to fix these up?”

Arty considers. Although he's feeling chattier he is still bloody tired. “I'll wash later.”

Sebastian nods, seeming to read Arty's mind, and sits on the edge of the bed beside him. “You'll need to take your shirt off,” Sebastian comments.

Arty looks down, knowing that he is naked underneath, but Sebastian's early assertions persuade him there is little issue in undressing in his current physical state. He pulls the top over his head.

Sebastian gives him space for a moment then begins to peel off the bandages. The medical tape comes away without much issue.

Sebastian cleans and cares for the wounds with a careful efficiently that unnerves Arty. Although it is reassuring to recognise his caregiver's competence, it unsettles Arty to wonder how Sebastian's skills became so proficient.

Sebastian clears the mess away before getting comfortable on the bed beside Arty, who seems tired again.

“I'll need to go out later,” Sebastian announces warily. “I've got work for a few hours, but I'll give you your next dose before I need to go. Will you be alright by yourself?”

“Will I run, do you mean?” Arty drawls.

Sebastian eyes him intently.

Arty shrugs. “I'll probably sleep until you come back.”

“Good,” Sebastian replies a little gruffly. He curls towards Arty and they both doze.

When they wake it is about time for Arty's medication again. Arty is not hungry, but Sebastian persuades the young man to have some of the watermelon with the tablets.

Arty is amused by the nervous way Sebastian moves. “Worried about me?” he teases.

“Yes, if you must know,” Sebastian replies honestly.

The bluntness startles Arty into silence.

“No eye roll this time?” Sebastian sneers softly, stepping past to grab his keys.

“I'm going back to bed,” Arty says flatly, hoping the comment is read as reassuring.

It perhaps is, a little, judging by the look Sebastian gives him before leaving.

Arty is good for the first hour or two, but eventually gets bored. He washes and gets another drink, but that doesn't seem to help, so he explores the apartment.

When Sebastian returns he finds Arty in one of the spare bedrooms cradling a gun.

“Bigger than I'd expect to find under a pillow,” Arty comments. His eyes glitter in a way that makes the breath catch in Sebastian's broad chest.

The gun isn't the one from before and it is bigger.

Sebastian's hair is ruffled and as he steps closer Arty recognises a scent he cannot quite place.

“Gunplay against your rules?” Sebastian asks as Arty continues to examine the well oiled gun.
- 7
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- 9
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Emergency Contact