A/N: Well, hello!

This is a johnlock fanfic i came up with, i hope you all like it :D Im currently looking for someone to beta it, so message me on here if you are interested :D

Please review as i live off them. Im planning for this to be about 10 chapters long and im about to start on the next one.

I hope you all like it :D

What to do?

Sherlock and I were on a case that had gone horribly wrong, horribly horribly wrong and now Sherlock was in hospital.

We were running after Leon Warrington, a man who had killed 3 blond haired women when Sherlock ran out into the road, being stupid and didn't look. 10 seconds later, he was on the road and his blood on the front of a cab.

It was just like when he fell. Blood, there was blood everywhere, coming from his head, from his chin and he was out cold.

No,

No it was worse than the fall, because this time, he was actually hurt. I knew it was him, he wouldn't fake his death twice, would he? He wouldn't leave me again. No, he couldn't leave me again.

Sherlock, don't you dare die.

You left me once, for two years. They were the worst years, worse than the ones spent at war, because Sherlock, I had grown to love you. During those many days we spent chasing people, the days where you would play your violin for me and the ones were we spent just together-sitting in silence, observing each other. Yes, I had grown to love you. Every side of you, your arrogant side, your ignorant side and your blunt side. Your soft side, your caring side and the other side of you that I was the only one who saw. Yes you bloody idiot, you turned me into a softie.

When you was gone, I had this…this inner Sherlock. I would do something and your voice would tell me whether I was being stupid or observant. Of course I knew it wasn't you but it felt like it. It's what kept me sane every day, every day until I met Mary. When I met Mary, your voice started dissapering in my head, I clung onto it with every fibre of my being but I knew I had to move on. You were supposedly dead and I had Mary. So I projected all my love I had for you, towards Mary- eventually I managed to kid myself that I did love her and decided I wanted to marry her, but of course, you turned up Sherlock and ruined everything.

You confused it all, all of it. I had a plan Sherlock, and you come waltzing back into my life pretending that everything was going to be okay. Maybe it will be okay, only time will tell. All these feelings came rushing back, but of course I couldn't leave Mary- it wouldn't of been fair. I carried on loving Mary, but I also carried on loving you. Two parallels of love divided me, one for a woman, one for a man, but then again, you two are more alike than I originally thought. Don't get me wrong, im not gay- you just sorted of fitted into your own category, but that's what you are Sherlock, isn't it? You are your own category- you bloody made up a job to be in your own category.

Time passed and my feelings for you died down some- they'll never fully go, no, but I have Mary so it will be fine.

I remember once, that you said you were incapable of being loved, incapable of loving-but that's not quite true. You loved Mrs Hudson, hell you nearly killed a bloke because he touched a hair on her head. You committed suicide to save three lives Sherlock, one of them-you can't even remember his first bloody name! You do Sherlock, you do feel love.

I love you. Still, after all these years, I still love you. I hope you know that Sherlock, you probably do. You probably deduced it, dilated pupils, sweaty palms, hitched and heavy breath whenever you were near, yeah…you probably know.

I hope, I hope that when you get out of this coma, you will remember.

The doctors said you have a 50% chance that you wont.

If you don't, if you go back to being the old Sherlock, the one who didn't feel, then I hope you know you were…are loved Sherlock, even if I have to tell you myself.

I look up from my thinking space as Mycroft enters the room,

''did the doctors say anything?'' I furrow my brow as the ginger haired man walks over to me. I stand up so I feel less intimidated.

''They're going to wake him up now. I'll go…he has no care for me, you, John should be here.'' He turns to leave as I nod my head, but I remember something I need to ask of him.

''Uh, Mycroft, can you tell Mary to come in here please?'' I say as I sit back down.

I see a nod of head as the door closes, it re-opens a few moments later.

''John? What have the doctors said?'' Mary pushes a few loose blonde strands out of her face as she walks over to me.

''They're going to wake him up. I think im going to stay at Baker street for a bit, knowing Sherlock, he'll be an idiot and want to do stuff straight away and someone needs to be there for him, would you mind going home and getting some of my stuff for me, just two weeks' worth is all I need.''

''Of course John. I love you.'' she said as she smiled down at me, running her hands through the hair at the tuft of my neck.

''I love you too.'' I smiled up at her. This façade dropped when she left the room. There was hardly any truth in the words I just said, some, but not much. Everyday life was starting to bore me, I missed the action, the thrill, the matter of life and death hanging in my hands, I missed living with Sherlock, and now I looked forward to these two years more than I did than returning to my home.

But I am returning to my home, Baker Street is my home. My soft yet firm double bed in my bedroom that had hardly any belongings in, that dusty front room with the yellow smiley face sprayed on the wall with bullet holes through, the experiments and the fingers in the fridge-that's my home-not the modern double bedroom house I share with Mary, that's not my home.

I had spent the last two weeks sitting by the induced coma-struck Sherlock, creating different scenarios of what would happen when he awoke and now he was finally going to wake up. I started feeling nervous, why would I feel like this? Just because my friend was waking up, im an ex soldier, why am I nervous at this?

I shook my head and used this last moment of peace to take Sherlock's hand for the last time. I had been doing that a lot for the past week…it was comforting. Every so often I could just move my fingers and check his pulse so I knew he was still with me…us.

His hand fitted into mine, like it belonged there…but I knew it didn't. He was asexual-married to his work as he says-yet sometimes, I had a gnawing feeling that, that wasn't true. Sometimes I would just catch him looking at me, I would feel his eyes burn into the back of my skull, his gaze would be so intense when I would turn to look at him, I would doubt it. I would also doubt it when I would go to sleep at night with my door fully closed, but it would be open the next morning. Sherlock would never shut a door fully. The small gestures, the milk buying when I was angry at him, him trying to please me when he knew he had pissed me off. Those were the times I doubted it.

Plus there was the woman but let's not divulge into that subject, she's a…pressure point as Magnussen would say.

I heard the door open and instantly took back my hand and placed it in my lap, it was the doctor with the serum to wake up Sherlock. I nodded at him as he walked around to Sherlock's right arm and he the Asian looking doctor spoke,

''it could take a few minutes to a couple of hours before he awakes. When he does, he'll be a bit confused as to where he is but as he knows you so well, I'm sure he will be fine.'' Dr Grona smiled at me and injected Sherlock. It made me flinch as Sherlock's skin was pierced, that's how he use to do his drugs-by injection.

The doctor injected all the serum, wiped away the blood and smiled at me before turning away and leaving the room.

Anticipation grew inside me Never had I not spoken to Sherlock for so long in a long time. Even on my honeymoon he still texted me. I longed to feel his hand in mine but I knew I had no place anymore to do that-I shouldn't of anyway, taking advantage of an unconscious man, it was wrong yet I had done it anyway.

I knew with Sherlock that it would only take him a few minutes to arise, I knew his mind would want to get into action straight away…

I was correct.

It hadn't been two minutes before I saw his eyes moving underneath his eyelids,

''Sherlock?'' I said, in case he need something to wake him up.

At the mention of his name, his eyes snapped open. His eyes scanned the room, deducing where he was, when they landed on me..

''Sherlock.'' I smiled up at him.

I saw the edge of his lips turn up at me, before he raised his eyebrow and muttered the words,

''and you are?''

I blinked, it had happened, he had forgotten. He had forgotten years of his past, seven or more of them.

I felt everything inside me fall, I felt dizzy but I couldn't feel ill, not here, not now. I needed to be his friend again. I shook my head, trying to get rid of the racing thoughts from my head.

''Im John Hamish Watson, you're called William Sherlock Scott Holmes. It's the year 2015 and you're aged 38. Im your best friend. This is how im going to prove im your best friend. I know you're clever and brilliant. You use the science of deduction, you see and you observe. You live at 221B Baker Street with Mrs Hudson. You have a brother called Mycroft and you're parents live in the countryside, they're different from what I expected. When you was twelve, you ran away from home-you never told me why. You walk around the flat in your sheet, you eat every few days, your room has barely any items in it and before me, you had a skull as your friend. 3 years ago, you jumped off the roof of St Bart's because you wanted to save the lives of me, Mrs Hudson and detective inspector lestrade. You keep your socks in the top left draw and you hate it when I watch Tv in the room. You were able to figure out about my sister and her marriage problems as soon as we met, you usually annoy people with your deductions but not me, never me because I am your best friend.'' I finally release my breath I hadn't realised I was holding. I know Sherlock, im glad I said all of that, so I don't need to try and persuade him anymore.''

Sherlock looked down at me, I knew he was deducing,

''hmmm…'' he squinted his eyes, ''when can I go home…John.''

I blinked, was he not going to say anything? How could he not say anything about that?

''um, i…I'll find out for you.'' I shook my head and got up, finding the nearest nurse outside the room.

I couldn't wrap my head around it all…I don't know what he's going to be like now and that's what I found most difficult.

What if he didn't want to be my friend again.

Fuck Sherlock.

I needed to sit down.