Okay, I am so sorry for not updating, I was brought some terrible news last week and that has been consuming my every thought! I have also had exams and moving house to think about! I will update asap! Thanks for the room, they really have kept me feeling better when I was upset! x

I walked down the corridor back to the relative's room to find Mycroft and Greg who were still sat there together, in a similar position as before. However, this time Mycroft was lying on the sofa, asleep and Greg was staring blankly at the wall and he held his partner. I'd never seen Mycroft in such a helpless state before, but the worry for his brother was evidently becoming too much for him as it looked as if he'd just passed out into Greg's arms. Greg gently moved Mycroft's head off his lap and walked over to me so that we could talk without disturbing the elder Holmes brother.

"He's taking it bad, very bad. I think it was quite a trauma for him, seeing Sherlock in this state again. I mean, when he was on the drugs he used to do some stupid things, tried this countless times. Mycroft did all he could but it was no use, if Mycroft hadn't forced me to give him cases, god knows what would have happened!" Greg said softly. "What happened?"

And I told him. Everything. Down to the very last detail. "He's thinking about things now, but I think I've got through to him. God, I hope I have. I don't know what I'd do without him." And the tears began again.

"Hey, it's alright mate, it's going to be alright." Said Greg, wrapping his arms around me.

"I know, it's just the not knowing. Look, you should get him home." I said nodding towards Mycroft.

"Not a chance, we're staying here. Anyway, if I wake him up now, he'll never go back to sleep. We'll stay the night in here, one of the nurses has just popped off to get us a couple of blankets. You can go home if you like, get a shower, clean clothes, good night's sleep and all that. We'll call you if anything happens." Greg offered kindly.

"Thank you but I can't leave him, I swore to him that I wouldn't." I replied, bidding him a goodnight before going to the on call room where I endured a sleepless night.

Tossing and turning. Words swirling round my head. Worst case scenarios. Ruined opportunities.

As soon as I saw light coming through the blinds, I got myself out of bed and put on my shirt from the day before. I remade the bed and left the room just as I'd found it, leaving to find Sherlock.

I returned to the room I'd been in the day before, which is where I found Sherlock arguing with an unfamiliar man. I entered the room to see what was going on, but didn't need to hear more than an angry insult from Sherlock to deduce what was going on. Sherlock's psych consult.

"Look Mr Holmes, there's no need for thi-"

"I am not in any way unstable, sociopathic, yes but not in need of being institutionalised!" Sherlock cut him off with gritted teeth.

"Mr Holmes, you are in no fit state to make any judgements over your own mental well-being. The events of yesterday show that you are not in the right frame of mind at all to be allowed to leave the hospital even if you are physically able to do so. If you are discharged, I would like to admit you to a psychiatric unit throughout your chemo, to monitor your mental health. I have read your notes very carefully and we don't want you relapsing and going back to old habits."

"I'm sorry, what? He's not going anywhere other than with me. Sherlock's brother and I have discussed this and we see it fit that I should monitor his recovery." I interrupted, not prepared to allow a doctor to take away the most cherished thing in my life.

"But-" I cut him off.

"Sherlock's actions yesterday where the result of finding out that he had a tumour on the organ he sees as most useful – I don't quite agree. However this is beside the point, he is no longer in any danger to himself or to others, yesterday was a minor hiccup. And I am the person best placed to make this call as I know him better than anyone." I stated confidently.

"But who the hell are you?"

"Doctor Watson, I am Sherlock's…" I pondered.

"Lover, boyfriend, significant other, partner, flat mate, best friend." Suggested Sherlock.

"So if you wouldn't mind, my partner and I would like to have a chat in private." I said, half shoving the psychologist out of the room. "So then partner, have you consented?"

"Yes. I realised that I could never do to you what I did before. Leaving you hurt me more than you can understand, but thinking that I was dead must have been impossible to live with." Sherlock said, showing empathy for what may have been the first time.

"It was and it wasn't something that I wanted to live with." I replied, pulling up the sleeve of my left wrist and showing him the thick, deep red and white scars that lay on my wrists.

"John," Sherlock closed his eyes and pressed feather-light kisses to the scars on my wrist. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be, I didn't show you to make you feel guilty. I want you to understand how much I love you and the impact positive your presence has on people." Our lips touched again, soft yet, passionate.

"So, Graham and Mycroft then. How did I not see it." Sherlock said as we pulled apart.

"Greg." I corrected him.

"What?"

"His name is Greg, how can you not remember?"

"Molly seems to think that my memory lapse with names of people of significance is due to the tumour. I never had this problem before." He began, lifting his hand up and watching the tremors. "That's new as well. What else, John?"

"Memory-loss, difficulties with movement, loss of balance, speech difficulties, blindness, loss of hearing, inability to breathe, but that's all as it gets worse, if the chemo works, you'll be fine." I tried to reassure him.

"I don't think I can do this alone."

I lifted his chin so that he would have to look me in the eye. "You won't have to, it's me and you and nothing will change that." A single tear rolled down as his cheeks as he realised that I really wasn't going to leave him. He leant forward to press a sweet kiss to my lips just as Greg and Mycroft entered the room unannounced.

"Woah, you two should probably put up a warning sign." Greg laughed as he walked forward, dragging an exhausted looking Mycroft by the hand.

"Sherlock, don't you have something to say?" I urged him.

"Could the two of you leave us for a moment?" Sherlock asked, avoiding his brother's eyes. We silently obliged, watching them through the window in the door to Sherlock's private room.

We couldn't hear a word that was said, but we saw Mycroft telling the younger Holmes something that reduced him to tears. Something that evidently had a massive impact on Sherlock as he silently embraced him, wordlessly apologising for causing him so much worry. Mycroft sat on Sherlock's bed, discussing everything so calmly and uncharacteristically, showing a new side to the government official. I could see the good that Greg had done for him , before the fall, he would never have shown this sort of emotion, especially not towards his brother.

When we re-entered the room, Mycroft embraced his partner silently as I went and sat beside Sherlock, taking his hand in mine. I looked over at Mycroft to see the shocked look upon his face, he looked terrified.

"I'm going to take him home; we'll come and see you when you're discharged, but give us a call if you need anything. Make sure you rest, Sherlock. John, call us if there are any updates." Greg said, slipping his hand into Mycroft's. "Come on you."

"Thank you John." He murmured, his hands visibly shaking as he tried his best not to show his fear for his brother. "Look after yourself brother mine."

And the two of them left, leaving us to wait for Dr Saunders to come and give us news.

She arrived with a nurse and another doctor in tow, both of whom had evidently been made aware of Sherlock's earlier behaviour and looked at him with both pity and wariness.

"Mr Holmes, Dr Watson, we want to start chemotherapy as soon as possible, so we're going to give you a combination called PCV, which you will be able to take at home. We will insert a cannula into your hand now and tomorrow morning, the nurse will come round to put you on a drip for the first cycle. You will then take these, two Lumustine capsules, as soon as you've finished and for the next ten days you need to take 3 doses of two Procarbazine capsules a day." She explained.

"I'm a trained doctor, would I be able to administer it?" I asked, not wanting to subject Sherlock or the nurse to that.

"Okay, you'll need to take this home with you and keep it in the fridge." She replied, handing me the package.

"Do you have any more questions?" Dr Saunders asked politely.

"Will I able to work?"

"Look, Sherlock, if you can work, I encourage it, however Chemotherapy can cause severe exhaustion so you need to make sure that you're keeping yourself healthy and resting as much as possible. Sister James will go through the side effects with you now, insert your cannula and et you ready for discharge." She said, handing the notes over to the nurse and leaving.

I could see that Sherlock wasn't listening to the side effects at all. I knew them all already, but I had expected Sherlock would want to know what was going to happen, however he didn't seem in the slightest bit bothered. Once all the necessary tests had performed, I was left to get Sherlock changed so that I could take him home.

"Sherlock, turn around so that I can undo your gown, you need to put your pyjamas on." I told him as if I was talking to a child.

"Did you bring my dressing gown?" He asked eagerly.

"Yes."
"The blue one?" He really was a child. I nodded in reply as I helped him pull his t-shirt over his head and put on his bottoms. I then wrapped the dressing gown around him, grabbed the medication and stuffed it into my bag, before putting my arm around him and helping him walk through the ward.

When we arrived back at 221b Baker Street, helped Sherlock out of the cab, paid the driver and unlocked the front door as quietly as possible.

Now we had to tell Mrs Hudson.

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