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When John opened his eyes Sherlock sighed with relieve.

There was a rush of doctors and nurses and Sherlock was forced to leave. He stood in the hallway and send mass of text messages around.

John is awake. SH

He even sent one to Harry. And to Mycroft.

It took fifteen minutes when Lestrade arrived.

Thirty from Mycroft.

Over hour before Harry came.

And they still waited. After two hours the doctor came and watched the small group and then Harry questioningly.

"Ms Watson…"

"You can tell here. I don't pretend to know my brother so well that I can do any decisions. Holmes is the one who live with him." She nodded toward Sherlock who was bit taken off from what she said. The doctor eyed Sherlock little confused.

"Oh. There was no mention of hus…"

"We are flatmates and friends." Sherlock said calmly. The poor doctor looked his cart.

"Ah. Well. Let's see. Doctor Watson's leg will heal. No nerve damage."

Lestrade let audible sigh of relief and Sherlock couldn't blame him.

"There was some serious blood lost though and the hit in the head and… Well…"

Sherlock felt how Mycroft moved forward closer of his brother and suddenly he was crateful of the gesture.

"What?" Sherlock's voice was low and demanding and now Lestrade came also forward.

"His memory."

"His memory?" Harry looked put out and the doctor moved nervously sifting his weight leg to leg.

"He can't remember, well, pretty much anything from his life. Its worry some sign to loose almost everything…"

"He can't remember anything?" Sherlock tried to keep himself cool and felt Mycroft's hand on his back, anchoring him. There was some pity in the doctor's eyes when he looked the younger man front of him.

"Sadly, no. He knows things but he can't remember who he is, his life, his parents, his friends, family, and job. He can perfectly fine use phone and write and eat. He knows, a lot, about medic and surgery. And…" The doctor seemed bit awkward and coughed.

"How to kill. I got some, krhm, very descriptive explanation where to aim when…"

"He was soldier. And in his other job he chase after criminals." Mycroft said his voice carrying sudden authority.

"He's consultant." Lestrade muttered.

"With me." Sherlock added.

"Ah. Right." The doctor looked bit calmer but eyed the group more suspiciously now.

"Can I see him?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes. It would be good. There is always chance that he'll remember something."

"Will he remember someday?" Sherlock let himself hope even when he saw how the doctor hesitated.

"Memory is very complicated thing. I hope but, I can never say for sure. We'll get him to magnet scan later today to see if there is something physical to do. But if not, then we can only hope."

Sherlock stepped forward, but stopped and looked at Harry who shook her head and retreated to sit. Sherlock realized that she was in shock. They never got along well, much like Mycroft and Sherlock but they were family. And family always meant something to people. Sherlock turned his gaze to Mycroft. His brother was also looking Harry and then turned to see Sherlock.

"Go." He urged and Sherlock went after the doctor.

"Just, take it slowly. Not too much of information will you." The doctor advised.

"Slowly." Sherlock nodded when they entered the room.

John was sitting on his bed, his eyes in window. When he heard them come he looked hopefully up but then he just frowned.

"Hello." He greeted and Sherlock almost stumbled his steps when he heard how John greeted him like a perfectly strange. He had heard that so many times toward clients that he barely hold it. It took everything to keep his voice calm and neutral.

"Hello John."

The frown deepened.

"I know you?"

"Yes. I'm your friend. Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock stopped opposite of John, behind the bed post, and their eyes met.

John blinked.

"Ah. Sorry, can't… remember." There was frustration in his voice, but he hid it pretty well. Sherlock was bit glad of that. So the John he knew wasn't entirely gone. Manners were there, the politeness, maybe more.

"It's okay. Is there anything what you… want to know now?" Sherlock asked carefully and John looked away, shrugged his shoulder. "No, I think."

And that hurt more than anything. Sherlock visibly startled but John never saw it.

"Nothing? I…"

"Where I live?" John still didn't looked at him.

"With me. We share a flat, in Baker Street."

"So, good friends."

"Yes, very good friends."

John looked bit worriedly at Sherlock who in turn shrugged. "We work together too. I'm consulting detective." And he couldn't but let himself sound proud.

"Consulting… Detective…" John tasted the words when he repeated them and then smiled. Truly smiled and Sherlock's heart jumped.

"Sounds good. What I'm, your sidekick?"

And the humour was there.

Sherlock smiled too. "You're my assistant, companion, secretary, mail boy, what ever its takes us to do the job."

"Sounds fun." John tilted his head when he looked at Sherlock and only now Sherlock noticed how distant that look was. Yes, part of his John was missing.

"When I can go home?" John asked from the doctor who looked the cart.

"Tomorrow maybe, if nothing else comes up. Bed rest. No work at least a month. Just taking it all easy. We have to arrange for you the psychologist visit and rehabilitation."

"Tomorrow then. Will you… come?" John looked back to Sherlock.

"Of course. I bring some clothes too."

"Thanks." John's eyes ventured back to the window and Sherlock wanted to run out of the room.

"See you tomorrow John." But before he left, John called him. His voice hesitant when he pronounced his name.

"Sherl…ock. Will…"

"Yes John?"

John's eyes never left the window.

"Will you bring back my memories?"

Sherlock looked the doctor who shook his head fast. Then he looked John, the lonely John who couldn't remember anything.

"Yes, I'll bring back your memories." He promised, turned and left.