[ john is gulping down a lukewarm beer angrily when his phone goes off. he retrieves it from his pocket, expecting a text from mary concerning rosie, not an SOS from his selfish best friend. for one shameful second, john seriously considers leaving him on the stairs, before he goes to his aid.
he bends down and locks his arms under his armpits and in front of his chest, dragging sherlock up the stairs and onto the landing. just getting him there is enough to make john sweat from the exertion and he looks at his bedroom down the hall and the door to the living room, weighing his options. living room it is.
somehow, he manages to get sherlock onto the couch and removes his scarf. he performs all this in grudging silence, leaving only to retrieve his old medical kit from upstairs. a relic he left behind after the fall, when it was too painful to go back to the flat. ]
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he bends down and locks his arms under his armpits and in front of his chest, dragging sherlock up the stairs and onto the landing. just getting him there is enough to make john sweat from the exertion and he looks at his bedroom down the hall and the door to the living room, weighing his options. living room it is.
somehow, he manages to get sherlock onto the couch and removes his scarf. he performs all this in grudging silence, leaving only to retrieve his old medical kit from upstairs. a relic he left behind after the fall, when it was too painful to go back to the flat. ]