Sherlock stared at the dust covered floor of 221b. It was a long hospital stay and he had hated every second of it. What he did was nonsensical. Why did he do it? His life was now pretty much ruined, in his opinion.

"There we are, Sherlock. I think we will definitely have to call a builder in about converting the stairs into ramps. It'll be a bit hard to go places for a little while…" John was only trying to help; but his comments were met only with a pained sigh and a small tear stain upon the dusty floor. Sherlock didn't want to think about recent events; even if it was impossible. "Come on, Sherlock. Please talk to me! You saved my life… I hate seeing you like this," John sounded like he was pleading.

"I'm fine. Just trying to accept that my life is ruined," Sherlock gave an empty chuckle, "All because of… human error." Sherlock spat his words with disgust.

"Sherlock… Your life isn't ruined; you can still be fairly independent, you can-"

John's comforting was interrupted by Sherlock's bitter words, "Can I chase criminals through the streets with the wind in my hair and my heart alive with adrenaline?"

"No… But-"

"I'm I able to go to the morgue at Bart's and be able to see the corpse properly?"

"They must have a solution to-"

"Who will stay by me now? I can't do my work; so that's good bye to Gavin-"

"Greg." John corrected.

"I can't go to the Morgue; good bye Molly…"

"Again, I'm sure they can do something about that."

"I can't offer you a life of excitement any more… Hello psychosomatic limp… Good bye…" Sherlock's eyes watered, "Good bye John Watson."

John embraced Sherlock in a comforting hug. "Believe me, Sherlock; I'm not going anywhere." Sherlock couldn't help but let a tear fall from his cheek.

"That's what people have said… and then they left," Sherlock's voice broke. John couldn't help but feel his heart crack slightly.

"I'm not people, Sherlock," John looked down at Sherlock's legs, "I don't care if you can't feel your legs; I will always be here."

Sherlock stared down at his wheel chair and motionless limbs. Mycroft's words rattled around his mind; 'caring is not an advantage, caring is not an advantage'. Sherlock winced; how right Mycroft had been.

At that moment there was a knock on the door. John ran down the stairs, another tear fell from Sherlock's eye as he thought that he'd never be able to rush down the stairs like that in a frenzy again; agile and excited at the possibility of an exciting case. He let his head fall into his hands. No more cases.

John opened the door to find Greg and Molly on the doorstep clutching brown folders to their chests. "Can we come in?" Greg asked, "We have some things to discuss with Sherlock…"

"Is it good or bad?" John asked, unable to keep concern out of his voice, "he's still quite depressed and struggling with his paralysis; if it's bad, it can wait." John hated the fact that Sherlock was never going to walk again and the feeling that Sherlock was experiencing to try and deal with it.

"Don't worry, John," Greg smiled and laughed slightly.

Molly laughed too. She smiled, "It's amazing news. We've come up with some ways to help Sherlock continue to work!"

John was overwhelmed with joy. He had felt so guilty, being the cause of Sherlock's disability. "Come in! He's upstairs!"

Greg stared at the steep stairs leading up to 221b. "How the hell did you manage to get him up there?"

"It wasn't easy. We're getting some builders in to make the flat wheelchair accessible," John tried not to let his guilt show, but it would be understandable; after all, because of him, Sherlock will never walk, never run, never even swoop his coat dramatically as he always did. Was he even going to act like himself anymore?

"That'll be good for Sherlock… Right?" Greg asked, naively. A small wince escaped John's lips. The guilt suddenly came flooding back.

"I'm not so sure. He's obsessed by the fact that, because of his condition, we're going to leave him and he'll be all alone; so he's trying to ignore it. Any time I so much as mention any thing about after care and his… paralysis, he gets angry, depressed and he's even broken down a few times." John was now even guiltier.

"And how are you dealing with it?" Greg asked.

"I'm not the one who's paralysed." John stated.

"But you're the reason why he's paralysed…" Molly pointed out which made Greg elbow her sharply in the ribs.

"Molly, don't you think I feel guilty enough! But I didn't make him jump in front of me to take that bullet! I did the best I could to help him but… but…" John looked like he was about to have a break down.

"John, it isn't your fault! Molly was just being extremely rude. Shall we go up now?" John nodded frailly. As Lestrade walked up the stairs, he called back, "This'll make one hell of a ramp! Like a helter-skelter!" Why was Greg acting like a child? That was usually Sherlock's position… Not anymore, though. Molly quickly followed, leaving John to gingerly follow after them.

When the three entered 221b, Sherlock was attempting to move himself from his wheelchair to his armchair. He grunted in pain and frustration.

"Look, Sherlock, let me help you!" John tried to comfort with slight annoyance in his voice.

"No! No, I need to learn to do this myself!" John shrugged off Sherlock's refusal and tried to support him onto the chair, "I said no! Don't touch me!" John backed away from Sherlock and slumped into the kitchen to make some tea.

"I'm happy to hear you stayed in hospital as long as they wanted you to…" Molly tried to make conversation.

"It's not like I could get up and run away," Sherlock mumbled, bitterly

Greg bent down beside Sherlock, "hey, how you doing, Sherlock?"

"Oh shit…" mumbled John. He knew how Sherlock would react.

"Don't bend down to talk to me! Talk to me like you would talk to anyone else!" Sherlock yelled. It was wrong to say that he never liked being different, you might even say he loved it, but this… this was too different, "And don't give me that patronising tone either!"

"Get up Greg…" John sighed from the kitchen. Greg immediately stumbled to his feet.

"Sorry Sherlock…" Greg apologised.

"Don't give me your pity. I don't need it," Sherlock's voice was monotone, yet still sounded bitter, if that was at all possible, "You're just feeling guilty because you've both come to fire me… Go ahead. It's not like I could be more pathetic and miserable!"

"Sherlock, we're here because we have amazing news!" Molly exclaimed. She looked so happy, which annoyed Sherlock no end.

"What is this amazing news?" Sherlock asked with a twist of sarcasm. No news seemed amazing at this point.

"It is amazing news Sherlock…" John tried to defend.

"Go. Away." Sherlock snarled.

"Sherlock, why are you acting like this? You're the one who saved his life!" Greg shouted, confused. It was confusing. You don't save someone's life and then ignore or verbally attack them.

"It was human error, that's all…" Sherlock bitterly sighed.

Molly bit her lip. Oh my God! OH MY GOD! She thought. She knew what Sherlock meant by human error. If he was talking about friendship, he would have said sentiment, not human error. Human error was Sherlock's way of saying love.

"You would have bled out if it wasn't for John," Molly pointed out, "He did manage to save your life as well, Sherlock…"

"What life could I possibly have now?" Sherlock asked, close to tears.

"Sherlock, you can still come to crime scenes, or you can work from here, if you prefer…" Greg explained.

"That's what we came to talk to you about! We have some ideas that mean you'll still be able to work with us!" Molly was almost in hysterics. She grabbed Greg's folder and passed it to Sherlock along with her own folder, "Look, LOOK, LOOK!"

Sherlock looked at Molly's folder first. It was the floor plan of the morgue, but with subtle changes. The counter-tops were low and there were special call buttons, at wheelchair accessible height, labelled 'for assistance'. Molly had even gotten hold of the plans and made the wheelchair stickman look a little like Sherlock, with curly locks and cheekbones. John thought Sherlock would mind, but he actually found it a little funny and sweet.

"Construction should be finished by tomorrow…" Molly added.

"What's this?" Sherlock asked, a smile invaded his features and his eyes lit up with joy.

"You're not the only one who can manipulate people!" Molly beamed.

"Is there something you need to tell me Molly?" Greg teased, with a hint of genuine concern.

"It wasn't blackmail, per say… I threatened to go to the unions if they didn't make the morgue wheelchair accessible; it isn't that bad! It should be by law anyway!"

"Calm down Molly. This is…" Sherlock smiled the widest smile he had in months, "Amazing… No, more than that… It's… I can't even describe it! Come here!" Sherlock gestured for her to come closer to him. He locked her in a tight hug and gave her a quick peck on the cheek; which made her blush, not being over her crush on him. John stared at Molly, why the hell was he jealous of her?!

"I'm a bit nervous about what you'll do to me once you read what's in my envelope!" Greg teased, "Please promise you won't pull me in for a snog!"

"John would probably punch you if he did," Molly giggled quietly.

"What?" the whole room seemed to ask at once.

"Nothing!" She could feel her cheeks turning crimson.

"Why are you waiting Sherlock? Open my folder!" Greg smiled.

"Oh, right!" Sherlock was definitely like a child on Christmas morning, with Greg acting like a competitive relation; 'open my present now! It's the best!'

Sherlock held a contract in his hand. "This is even better than your situation now! You get paid, a comfortable £40,000 a year…" there was a smash from the kitchen as John dropped a coffee mug, "you get an office; you can still go to crime scenes; your title, consulting detective, becomes one hundred percent official; and, best of all, you don't have to take any case you don't want!" Greg beamed.

Sherlock stared at Greg and Molly with a slack-jawed smile. Realising that he looked too happy, he picked a small fault, "I still won't be able to chase criminals… I'll get in the way…"

"No…" Greg sighed, "You'll have to call me when you have a breakthrough, and our officers will chase them down." He shifted his feet awkwardly.

"That's ok, I guess," Sherlock sighed, "I've kind of lost favour with it…" Sherlock couldn't help but to smile from ear to ear. He was happy. Oh… Wait… He needed to apologise to poor John.

"Just sign here," Greg pointed at a dotted line at the bottom of the page, offering Sherlock a pen. Sherlock didn't wait a single second to sign.

He looked up at the two faces of Greg and Molly with his sparkling silvery-blue eyes, "Thank you," he smiled.

"Sherlock don't say thank you, it freaks me out!" Greg laughed.

Sherlock looked at him confused, "Isn't that what you're meant to do when someone does something like this for you?"

"Don't worry Sherlock, I was joking," warmth was emitting from Greg's voice, he was pleased to see Sherlock like this, "I think we should leave you to it, right Molly?" Molly nodded quickly and enthusiastically. "Right; bye John; look after yourself Sherlock; come by Monday and we'll go through cases in your new office!"

"Yeah, sure!" gasped Sherlock, almost out of breath.

As John closed the door behind Molly and Greg, he turned to Sherlock, a smile on his face.

"I'm sorry for shouting at you John; you mean a lot to me, I was in a foul mood and for some reason, I took it out on you. I feel so bad now. I don't even know why I've acted so appallingly towards you…" At that moment, Sherlock started trying to get into his armchair again.

"It's ok Sherlock, I understand." John soothed, relieved that Sherlock was sorry for his behaviour and apologised. "A thank you and an apology within ten minutes? Who are you and what have you done with Sherlock?" he laughed.

"Shut up," Sherlock laughed, but his demeanour soon became more serious. John could tell this instantly.

"Sherlock? Are you alright?" John asked, concerned.

"I'm fine…" Sherlock took a deep breath, "there's something I think I need to talk to you about…"

"Is it bad?" John's heart sank. Was this about something he did? He didn't know what he could have possibly done, but this was Sherlock; it could be anything.

"Depends how you see it…" Sherlock shrugged with a shaky breath; trying, but not succeeding, to hide his nervousness.

"Oh…" John was terrified. What on earth was the matter? He had never seen Sherlock Holmes like this. He sat on his armchair, preparing for the worst; he really did not know what was about to happen.