Authors note: Thank you guys for all your support! It really means alot. And now in this chapter we get to have some feels. YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY.
John woke up to the unfamiliar angle of the sun. When he opened his eyes he remembered that Sherlock had made him sleep in his bed last night and- oh.
He remembered making Sherlock go to bed too. He slept in the same bed as Sherlock. He could feel the man's breath on the back of his neck. He thought this would make him feel uncomfortable but oddly enough, he felt so comfortable he really didn't want to move.
He never really thought about the way he felt when he was around Sherlock. He felt sort of complete and he was happier than he usually was with any of his past girlfriends. He always thought maybe those feelings were just how it felt to be in a close friendship with someone. But in his gut he knew that wasn't the case.
John got out of the bed as gently and quietly as he could trying not to wake Sherlock. He left the room and went to his own and changed out of the clothes he wore the day before. Sherlock never let him change last night when he literally pushed John into his room.
He continued to do what he usually did every morning. Get showered, brush his teeth, and get into fresh clothes. When he went downstairs Sherlock was sitting at the table, newspaper in hand. He looked up at John for a quick moment. "I trust you slept well." He said looking back down at the paper.
John sat in to chair next to him and noticed the hot cup of tea waiting for him where he normally sat. "I slept fine. Your mattress is more comfortable than I imagined." He took a second to process the words that just came out of his mouth.
'Your mattress is more comfortable than I imagined' Oh god. That makes you seem like you've imagined sleeping in his bed. Damn it John.
He pushed the thought out of his mind and sipped the hot tea. It was made just as he liked it. With the perfect amount of cream and just a little sugar. Sherlock always knew how he liked it.
They sat in silence for a few moments when they heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. It was Greg. He never went to the flat without calling first unless it was really important.
"Hello boys." he said coming through the doorway "How are you feeling?" he was obviously talking to Sherlock. "Lestrade, you never come here without calling first so this must be important so please just get to it." Sherlock still wouldn't look up from his newspaper. Greg sighed and looked down at his shoes. "We know where Moran is going to be tonight and we were thinking one of you, and only one of you, could come and confirm that it is indeed him." Sherlock's face shot straight up to meet Lestrade's eyes. "Moran?" "Yeah. You know the guy who shot you and killed a few other people?" "Yes of course I know but how do you know where he is going to be?" "A woman contacted us. She said she was is ex girlfriend and he called he telling her where he was going to be."
Sherlock stood up quick "I'll go" "No you're not" John said standing up "You need to shower and you need to rest. I'm going." "John, this man shot me who knows what else he is capable of I need to-" "No. You are not going. I am going. Don't worry I'll call you when we leave." John slipped his shoes and coat on and was out the door before Sherlock could argue anymore. Greg looked up at him and smiled "Oh don't worry I'll make sure he calls you." He said before walking out the door.
Greg wasn't an idiot. He knew both men had feelings for each other and frankly he was getting annoyed that neither of them would say anything. It took all his strength not to just yell "Oh will you two just kiss already?" whenever the two were staring at each other.
Sherlock huffed and threw himself onto the couch. He didn't like sending John off on a case by himself. He knew John didn't observe, he did clumsy things sometimes, but most of all he was worried about John's well being.
He waited for John to call for hours and hours and hours. He began to worry. He paced back and forth until the phone finally rang. "John" he answered it. "Hello brother" Mycroft. Not the person whose voice he cared to hear right now. "Mycroft I'm waiting for an important phone call I don't have time-" "John is in the hospital"
The words stabbed at Sherlock like a knife in the heart. "w…what?"
"Greg and him were chasing Moran down and John got in front of Greg. He chased Moran into a building were he went to the top floor. Moran escaped and a bomb was in the basement of the building. It went off as soon as John reached the top floor. He is in critical condition. I've sent a cab to come and get you. It will bring you here. You are the only person allowed to visit him I have been assured. His room number is 376. Get here now before it's too late. He's already slipping through our fingers."
Mycroft hung up. Sherlock dropped the phone and raced to get some fresh clothes on.
When he ran down the stairs and out the door the cab pulled up. He got in with thoughts racing through his mind.
What if I'm too late. What if he gets some sort of brain damage. What if he goes into a coma and doesn't remember who I am when he wakes up.
Sherlock ran a hand over his face and rubbed his temples. He sat still for the entire drive. When the cab pulled up to the hospital he threw money into the cabbie's lap and raced into the hospital.
When he reached room 376 his heart dropped. John was asleep. His pulse was incredibly weak according to the heart monitor. His face was incredibly pale He had a bandage wrapped around his forehead, scratches and cuts up his arms and on his face, and a large cut from the tip of his chin to his collar bone.
Sherlock sat in the chair next to the bed. From here he could see John had about twenty stitches on his side were something had stabbed itself into him. He felt tears swell in his eyes. He didn't hold them back. He held John's hand, kissing every tiny scratch on his hand and whispering "I'm sorry" in between each kiss.
"I shouldn't have let you go. I'm so sorry. Please don't leave me. I can't do this without you." His voice cracked.