Ack! My God! You guys are amazing! Thank you such much for adding the story to your favorites, subscribing and reviewing! My love is being sent to you all right now ^_^

This chapter has been pretty much re-written due to some things my editor (sis) told me to change. :D Hope it's better now. It is –admittedly- a pretty relaxed chapter, so I hope you don't mind the mellowness of it. But I wanted to give poor Watson a chapter of rest. I think I might spice things up in the upcoming chapters of the story to make up for it. Let's see how things go.

Reviews are encouraged and very much appreciated :_D


When John woke up, he saw pure whiteness, white walls, white bed sheets, white windows, and the white floor. But suddenly, as his eyes searched the space, he found a familiar blob of dark colors in the midst of it all.

"I see you're awake." Sherlock said, evidently happy when he saw John moving his head to face him.

"S-Sherlock." John barely whispered as he tried to say this, but Sherlock heard him nonetheless. He deduced from his friend's facial expression that he wanted to know what was going on, but couldn't find the energy within him to say so. So Sherlock thought it would be best to explain to his friend about how he found him at the door, and how he had taken him to a hospital.

John's taking this in pretty well. Sherlock thought, noticing that he had remained serious and surprisingly calm throughout the whole explanation. "And that's that." Sherlock said when he finished.

There was more to be said, really, but the rest of the details were more personal than anything else.

The detective remembered that not long after staying with John in the hospital room, doctors and nurses had come in to start tending to Watson. At that moment they had –politely- asked Holmes to step outside for the moment, and so he had taken advantage of that time to go back home and gather some things. When he had returned, he explained John's conditions to Mrs. Hudson, taken a shower, grabbed a few clothes for both of them, picked up both their laptops (and the chargers), and finally, gone back to the hospital, where he waited in the waiting room until he was allowed back with his friend.

Sherlock was cut off from his thoughts when John groaned as he tried to say something else, but couldn't bring himself to do it due to a god-awful headache and a terrible nausea.

At that moment Sherlock thinking of asking John the question about Moriarty and what exactly he had done when the door opened.

A doctor walked in with a nurse by his side. He presented himself as Dr. Williams. He was an old, hairy man, and he seemed to be a happy soul. "Morning, you two, and sorry to interrupt." He smiled. "How're we doing today?" He said to his patient, while taking a look at the files he carried. The nurse also said good morning to both of them and proceeded to adjust John's bed so that he was somewhat in an upright position.

"I-I'm doing better. Just feel a little sick." John managed to answer with a quivery voice.

"Hmm, that's normal. It's due to the lack of food in your system. That will be taken care of in a minute. Now, about your conditions, since you haven't had the chance to be informed yet-"

John prepared himself for the worst.

"You've received some cuts on various parts of your body, though only a few of them were deep enough to need stitching, couple of bruises, nothing too serious." Dr. Williams explained. "The only things that would need more attention would be the bullet injury on the side of your head, the two ribs that are close to being fractured on your left side and your nutrition, since they barely gave you proper food, wherever you were."

John didn't stir. He'd expected himself to be in a worse state after what they had done to him in those four days.

"I know you're a tough man of military background, Mr. Watson, you're friend here told me." Said the doctor gesturing towards Sherlock. "So you'll do fine." He smiled. "If your body recovers well, you'll be home in less than a week. It's really only due to the nutrition. The rib injuries are usually something that can be healed at home in a time span of 5-6 weeks." He nodded affirmatively.

"R-right. T-that's not too bad, I suppose." Said John, suddenly remembering he had woken up with a headache. He dropped his head back completely on the bed and closed his eyes for a minute.

The doctor took this as a sign that now wasn't the time to talk, so he respected that and turned to the detective, starting a simple conversation out of politeness. "Strong friend you've got there, Mr. Holmes."

"Stronger than he knows." The detective said, while shaking the other man's hand. The doctor chuckled.

"Yes, yes. Now, about your nausea, Mr. Watson." He turned back to John, who had re-opened his eyes, "A nurse will come by with breakfast, but there's a cafeteria downstairs for you, Mr. Holmes, if you want."

"Thank you, but I guess I'm not as hungry now, doctor. I'll pick up some coffee later." Said the detective.

Dr. Williams just smiled and nodded. "I guess you're all right for now, chaps. I'll come knocking again when it's time for medications." With that the doctor turned to leave, just in time as an older nurse came in with the food cart. The previous nurse who had entered with the doctor stayed and helped the other nurse serve the food. The latter woman placed a tray of food in John's lap, and he thanked her –weakly- for it. In a minute, both were gone as soon as they had come, saying their proper goodbyes as they walked out the door.

All that time, Sherlock's eyes had never left his friend. Now he watched as John idly picked up a fork in shaky hands and tried to poke at the scrambled eggs on his plate, which kept slipping off every time he raised the silverware to his mouth.

"Damn it all." John whispered in frustration to himself as he tried on last time before settling into something more easier to grab: the bread. He chewed on it rather spitefully.

"They have enough money to get patients more expensive looking food." Sherlock thought out loud, reaching for his bag of items brought from home that had been placed on the floor by his feet. "Brought your computer in case you wanted to update your blog about your… Hospital adventures."

"T-thanks for that." John said as loud as he could, still chewing on that bread. Since when did eating require so much energy? He took a deep breath and carried on through his morning meal.

"Also brought my own computer, because I'd be immensely bored if I had not done so. Don't want me shooting the walls now, do you?" Sherlock said. Anyone who knew him on a personal level would know he was serious. With that said, Sherlock was about to grab his laptop in the bag when he felt his Blackberry in his pocket vibrate.

"Oh… What do we have here?" He murmured quietly to himself. He hoped John had been distracted enough not to hear that.

Number unknown. Message: 'Hello, Sherlock. Miss me? JM'

Perfect.


Hope it wasn't too boring :P

Also, Sherlock's talk with Jim will be in a new chapter, or else this one will get way too long.