Chapter 1

Following his divorce from Mary, John had, of course, moved back in with Sherlock. Upon his return, he had decided that after recent events he couldn't waste any more time just wondering. On a day when Sherlock just wouldn't stop talking, he decided to take action and kissed the taller man. An unspoken agreement between the two occurred that day and they no longer denied they were a couple in front of others. Just let them think what they wanted to. Mycroft and Greg were the only ones aware.

On a particularly difficult, and adventurous case, the two had chased their suspect into an abandoned building near the Thames. The structural integrity of the warehouse didn't deter them from entering. Mistake number one.

They followed the trail of their suspect up a flight of rickety stairs to a scaffolding bridge over the ground floor. Mistake number two.

Sherlock was so focused on this case that he didn't pay attention to his partner, thinking the ex-soldier would be alright on his own. Mistake number three.

"Sherlock, look out!" The man in question dropped to the base of the bridge within seconds of missing being hit by something. John did not.

Sitting up, Sherlock rushed back to John and gingerly touched his head, fingers coming back bloody. Footsteps could be heard rushing into the building below, DI Lestrade in the lead, shouting, "Sherlock? Where are you?"

Immediately turning to look over the ledge, the detective frantically called, "John needs an ambulance! Now!"

Confused, Greg motioned for one of his subordinates to make the call. "What happened? Did you get 'em?" The DI was climbing the stairs up to the duo when he spotted John's prone form. "Sherlock, answer me!"

Still holding John's head, but having moved it to his lap, the younger man tried to answer calmly, "No, I did not 'get him'. He threw something at us and it hit John. Now get me an ambulance!" Under his breath he whispered, "I can't lose him."

Greg pretended he hadn't heard him. He remembered that only he and Mycroft knew of what had developed between the two, and was glad that none of the other officers had followed him up the stairs.

At the DI's insistence, Sherlock was allowed to ride in the ambulance with the injured doctor to the hospital. If Sherlock decided to sit beside his blogger and hold his hand the whole way to the emergency room, the paramedics dutifully ignored it.

Upon arrival, John was rushed through the doors while Sherlock had to be held back in the waiting room. When he saw more staff rushed to John's side on the other side of the doors, he no longer fought the nurses who told him that since he wasn't family, he couldn't go through. Greg soon joined him there, occasionally taking work calls and directing his team without leaving Sherlock's side.

Two hours later, Mycroft found them still waiting for news. Greg had called the politician sometime after showing up in the waiting room to make sure the doctor was able to get the best medical care possible. The sound of those horrible squeaky hospital shoes coming towards them had Sherlock looking up in apprehension.

Looking between the three men, the doctor asked, "Mr. Holmes?"

Gracefully, Mycroft stepped back as Sherlock practically sprang from his chair to get to the doctor, "Yes, how is he? Is he alright? Can I see him now? What took you so long?"

Neither Mycroft nor Greg tried to rein him in on his behavior.

"Mr. Watson will be alright. He should be waking up soon, but will be required to stay overnight for observation. I must warn you though, when he woke up briefly earlier, he may have been a bit confused so I want you to be cautious. Try not to upset him. You can go in when you're ready." With those final words, the doctor departed back to the nurses' station to continue making his rounds.

The trio of men made their way through the heavy double doors and down to John's room. As the other two continued on into the room, Sherlock remained standing in the doorway to watch the man in the hospital bed. He was stirring.

Groggily, John opened his eyes. "Greg? What happened? Where am I?" Of course he'd noticed Greg first, he was standing within his eye sight next to the bed.

"Whoa, careful there, John. You're at St. Bart's. How're you feeling?" Greg helped him sit up a bit and retrieved the cup of water sitting next to his bed, turning the straw towards his friend.

Thanking Greg, John replied, "Hmm? 'm fine. Or will be, I think. Long time no see by the way."

At the look of genuine concern on the face of his friend, John tilted his head slightly, giving him a look of confusion. As the DI was about to respond, John's eyes drifted over his shoulder when he saw movement behind the older man.

"Sherlock?" The detective could see myriad of emotions cross the face of the blond man. "Greg, what the bloody hell is going on?!" His John pushed himself up as much as he could in the bed, attempting to moved backward, away from him. "No! You're dead! I watched you fall. I felt your pulse. There wasn't one!"

Alarms started going off like mad and soon nurses were rushing in to usher the men out and attempt to calm their patient.

Back in the hallway, Sherlock had taken several steps backwards until he reached the opposite wall and proceeded to slide down into a squat against it. Head in hands.

"Mycroft?" Sherlock pleaded, "What is going on? Why doesn't he remember?"

Mycroft hadn't seen his brother look this small since they were young, and he was sure Lestrade had never seen the younger man openly show this much emotion before. Those around him had noticed that he'd spent the last year in a sort of bliss with John and The Work, but all it took was the possibility that the one man he loved may not remember him. Remember what they had. Or that he was even still alive.

Greg moved to sit beside him, shoulder to shoulder, "Well, the doctor did say that he was a bit confused."

Mycroft spoke to the lead nurse when they exited the room, John had been sedated and they would have to return tomorrow. With a look shared between the two older men, Greg pulled Sherlock up by the arm and direct him out of the hospital to the waiting black car. Sherlock would spend the night at their flat where they could keep an eye on him. Greg was unofficially living with Mycroft which would make this a bit easier.

Tonight would be a 'danger night' so they would have to keep a close eye on him. As Mycroft put his brother to bed in the spare room, Greg brought in a cup of tea in hopes of calming the young man and getting him to sleep. They would keep watch in shifts to make sure.

Tomorrow morning, the three of them would talk about how to work with this predicament and help the good doctor remember.