Since you are all so wonderful, here is the next little bit as promised, in which John has a conversation with Mycroft and learns why Sherlock left to begin with. Enjoy!

In the helicopter, John refused to leave Sherlock's side. After overcoming the initial panic at his friend's black out, John had tended to him. Administered antibiotics, morphine, began bandaging wounds. The extent of them had turned his stomach. Several of them were bleeding freely, and it was a wonder to John that Sherlock hadn't bled out. He'd cut off the trousers for a better look at Sherlock's knee, setting it in a makeshift brace that would last until they reached the hospital. Then he'd gently turned him over and started working on Sherlock's back. There was hardly any skin left to tend to. Almost more horrifying, though, was the startling shock of scarlet smeared down his thigh. Years of training was the only thing that kept John from being sick as he discovered what all had been done to his friend. He felt cold inside, then burning hot. He remembered the man in the room with Sherlock, the one who's neck had been broken. Had Sherlock done it? With a sudden violence that stunned John, he wished he'd been the one to do it. Wished he could have planted his hands on the bastard's head and twisted.

When he'd done all he could from the helicopter, John simply held Sherlock's hand. He traced the long slim lines of his fingers, cringing as he thought of the broken ones on the other hand. But Sherlock was alive. Somehow, impossibly, alive. They could get through everything else. As long as Sherlock was alive.

At the hospital, John was loathe to let the surgeons take Sherlock away. But he knew that they needed to do their jobs. He'd started the process, but there was so much more that would need to be done. Stitches administered- too many to count- broken bones to be reset, tests for infection... Even knowing that it was what was best for his friend, John felt like he was loosing Sherlock all over again as they wheeled him away. He settled in for what he was sure would be the longest several hours of his life until the doctors would let him in to see Sherlock again.

He'd barely sat down in the chair before he shot back up, pacing. He sat again for a moment, then paced more. Finally, he called Mycroft, realizing that Sherlock's brother had known that Sherlock was still alive. Hadn't told John. Had left him in his mourning even for a few hours longer than necessary. Or had Mycroft known from the very beginning? John had a sick feeling he had. How was he supposed to deal with that? He could barely accept that Sherlock was live and hadn't told him for two long years, let alone Mycroft knowing as well.

"Mycroft," he answered his phone curtly.

"How long have you known?" John asked, his voice tight. On the other end of the phone, Mycroft sighed.

"How is my little brother, Dr Watson?"

"He looked like shit when they carted him back to surgery, but he'll probably be fine. How long have you known?"

"What answer will appease you, John? Should I tell you that I only just found out? Will that soothe your mind?"

"The truth," John bit out.

"Use your head. Sherlock is clever, but even he would need help to fake his death so convincingly."

"All along then? You've known from the beginning?"

Mycroft said nothing. John took a deep breath, fearing he would scream at the other man. He wanted to rail against the world, demand retribution for the two years he'd been convinced Sherlock Holmes was dead. The pain it had caused. The loss.

"Why?" The word was torn from John's throat, he couldn't stop it. Mycroft sighed again.

"Perhaps my brother would be better suited to answer that question."

"I'm asking you Mycroft. I deserve an answer, damn it! Tell me why!"

"I am convinced that there is only one thing in this world that could make my brother fake his death, knowing the pain it would bring to you."

"What? To save the world? To prove he's more clever than anyone else?"

"Save the world?" John could practically hear Mycroft's brow lift. "Sherlock isn't nearly so noble and you and I both know it. No, John, the only thing that could force him to knowingly cause you pain, would be to save you. To protect you."

John clutched the phone so tightly he feared it might crack. He lost his breath, couldn't catch it, couldn't do any more than listen to the pounding of his own heart.

"Wh-what?" he finally croaked.

"You're aware that my brother cares for you, John. Despite his...uncouth methods of showing it sometimes, you are his best friend in the whole world. He credits you to saving him."

"Saving him?"

"From himself. I'll let him explain all the details to you, should he ever wish to do so, but you must know that he holds you in the highest regard. And if he felt you were threatened..." Mycroft let the words hang in the air. "I honestly can't think of anything he wouldn't do to prevent you coming to harm. And with a man like Sherlock, that means a multitude of possibilities both honourable and morally questionable. His original choice was a truly selfless sacrifice, but thanks to some quick thinking on his part, he was able to stay alive. Until the threat against you had been neutralized, however, he was unwilling to risk your safety by letting it be known he was alive."

"My god," John breathed. Sherlock had been willing to kill himself to save John? He survived, John reminded himself. He's alive. Part of John still wanted to lay someone out- either Sherlock or Mycroft- for no one telling him Sherlock had survived. But he simply couldn't grasp the concept that Sherlock had faked his death, left his home and gone through god-knew-what in order to protect John. "He was...trying to protect me..." The words felt thick in his throat.

"Yes. Quite successfully, I might add."

"So then whatever threat was out there-"

"Neutralized. The cave you retrieved him from was the lair of the last man Sherlock had been hunting."

"That's what he's been doing this whole time?"

"Amid a few hours of sleep here and there, and probably eating a bit when he absolutely had to, yes."

John simply didn't know what to say. He stood there, mouth open, shocked to the core. Flashes of Sherlock went through his mind. Pale and still, crumbled on the dirt floor. Bones broken, back ravaged, body tormented. Suddenly, emotion caught in his throat.

"God, Mycroft. Do you know what they did to him?"

"No. But I am certain Sherlock would say that the ends justified the means. He now has what he's been working for. It is safe for him to return to Baker Street with you. Back to normal life."

"I don't know that there is normal life after what he's been through. And I only got to see the physical damage."

"As long as my brother still has his intellect, he will be fine. His intellect and you, Dr Watson. Everything else can be gotten past."

"You sound so certain..."

"I have known Sherlock his whole life. From the very moment of his birth. I feel it safe to say I am one of the only two people in the world who really know him well. You, of course, are the other. So I can say with absolute, utter certainty that as long as his ability to reason is intact and as long as you are at his side, my brother will be fine. No matter what he's been through."

"I wish I could be as sure."

"Give it time. You will come round to my way of thinking eventually." There was a pause. "And John?"

"Yes?"

"Don't be too hard on him."

"What do you mean?"

"Once you get past the initial shock of seeing him alive, once that rush of gratitude has passed, you're going to be angry- very angry- that he's been gone so long. Do try to remember that he was saving your life. And ask yourself, if the situations were reversed, what lengths you would have gone to in order to protect Sherlock."

John put the phone back in his pocket with trembling fingers. He sank into the chair and let his head fall into his hands.

For him.

It had all been for him. Sherlock had sacrificed everything, nearly his life, for John. It hit him like a blow that everything Sherlock had been through was for John. Had he ever thought Sherlock hadn't appreciated him? Had he ever felt taken for granted? How much farther from the truth could it have been?

Hope you enjoyed it. As always, drop me a review and tell me what you thought! I absolutely love hearing from you all. I won't keep you waiting long for an update, there will be one for sure tomorrow, maybe even two if you're lucky ; )