Sherlocks POV

Kettle on the stove, chair in position, floor cleared of clutter, fridge stocked yes. Everything is had been two weeks since John was stabbed and he was due home today. I couldn't help but feel guilty. Which is something that I have never felt at least, not until the Fall. It had been on my whim that John had gotten hurt and on my whim that he had gotten sick. Due to the storm I had him running around in with little to no food or sleep had caused him to develop a nasty case of pneumonia. I should have known better John isn't like me he cannot function on so little. I quietly sat and waited. Lestrade had agreed to give him a ride home since I do not own a car and a taxi would be to much hassle today.

Johns POV

"John are you ready?" Greg stood at my door with a bag of the books and such Mrs Hudson had dropped off for me. "Yes alright." I tried to take the bag from him but he wouldn't let me. God I hate pity. My side hurt like hell... I wish Sherlock had kept him damn mouth shut. I was fine I could have patched myself up for Gods Sake! I bundled up tight when we got to the check out counter. " Now Dr. Watson you really shouldn't be leaving..." I gave her my Shut the Fuck up look but it did no good. "Why not? He's fine isn't he?" Greg piped in. The nurse scolded me. " No he has Pneumonia, the stab wound may be healing nicely but the state of his lungs is dreadful." As if on cue I coughed, jerking my side I bit back a groan and wince. Greg gave me a look that could kill. " John Watson what are you doing?" I looked at him. "Well if you could please hurry up I would be going home..." I quickly signed the release form and hurried to the parking lot. "John wait!" "Wait for what Greg? To get better? To die off? Well I would rather been in my own home in good company than in this bloody prison!" I was breathing hard now and it hurt but I didn't care I just wanted to get home and give Sherlock a piece of my mind. Greg stammered a bit. "John I know your a doctor and all but do you really think you should be in this state alone with..." "With who Greg? Sherlock?" I was mad. And I wasn't going to hide it, Who did he think he was? "Look John I'm sorry it's just-" "Just what? That he's a compulsive sod? A Sociopath or whatever? Well he may be but I would put my life in his hand before anyone else in the bloody hospital!" I could tell me face was red, I'm glad that we were outside and pretty much alone, I did work here after all. Greg backed off and I got into the car. The drive felt like a life time.

Sherlocks POV

It was a quarter past three. Where are they? I had spent the past Week reading all of Johns medical books, knowing he would be coming back sick. I shuffled through my head the best I could. Over the months my mind had been a tad scramble is you will. Ever since I came back. I'll never forget the look on Johns face. It was so beautiful and painful at the same time... wait, Beautiful? Get a hold of yourself Sherlock he's your flatmate, and best friend my mind kindly added. I heard a car door slam out the window and hurried to it. John was home... he looked thinner, not eating? No. he hates hospital food. He also looked angry, but why? oh. Lestrade also looked rather disturbed when he got out and grabbed Johns bag much to Johns dismay. Had they fought? And if so about what? I ran all the possible scenarios through my head as I hurried and turned the kettle on. Johns footsteps were hard but far spread. He was still in pain. Dammit. He opened the door I quickly took action. "Welcome back John. Hello Lestrade." I gave a smile to the pair as I saw Johns eyes scan the flat for my latest damage. He found non and that added a little more authenticity to my smile. "Uh. Hey Sherlock Where do you want this?" Lestrade held up Johns bag and I took it from him. "I'll take it off your hands and Lestrade thank you for giving John a ride home." He looked confused and rightfully I was never this nice. John looked at me like I had just lain an egg. I smiled and went into the kitchen. "Lestrade would you like a cup of tea?" I poured mine and Johns and reached for a second mug. "Uh... no thanks Sherlock I should get back to the Yard... Um have a nice day." He went to leave and John stopped him, from my placement I deduce he was saying sorry of something of sorts. Lestrade quickly left and drove away. When I came back with the Tea John was still standing in the doorway. "Sherlock... What's going on?"