4. He'll be fine

John woke up rather early. Sherlock next to him was still asleep, which John was glad about. He suspected that Sherlock had laid awake half the night, probably brooding. John felt relatively calm. He was relieved, that the day of the surgery was finally here. He wanted to get it over with and wanted certainty about his situation.

Sherlock and John spent the morning in silence both too much lost in their own thoughts. John had packed his bag for the hospital while Sherlock tried to occupy himself with his violin. It went quite poorly. This composition would go straight into the trash. Around noon, John was glad that they were finally able to set off. He felt incredible hungry and Sherlock's tension was making him nervous too.

They were just about to leave the flat when Sherlock had a thought. "Maybe would should have called Mrs. Hudson. I think she would like to know that you are in hospital."

Mrs. Hudson had left to go to her sister a few days ago but left her number in any cases of emergency.

"No Sherlock, please," John said in a hurry. "I don't want anybody to know about the surgery."

"Why not?"

"I … I don't want to worry anybody."

Sherlock looked him in the eye and understood that it was more than just that. "You don't want pity."

"Yes. If everything is fine, we put this behind us, and it isn't necessary for anybody to know," John hesitated before he continued, "If the worst case happens, pity will come soon enough."

Sherlock flinched inwardly by the words 'worst case' but nodded. "Ok, I won't tell anybody then."

"Thanks," John smiled and took Sherlock's hand. "I know you are nervous but do not worry too much. I'll be fine. The probability is on my side," John squeezed Sherlock's hand a bit. "Let's go."

They hailed a cab and John suppressed a sudden urge to look back at the front door of 221B. Don't be silly, he scold himself. I will be back in a couple of days. Everything will be fine.

When they arrived at the hospital everything was already prepared. John felt weird about being a patient in his own workplace. Maybe he should have chosen another hospital. On the other hand, these were his colleagues and he trusted them, much more then he trusts any foreign doctors. If the outcome of the surgery was bad, he would consider going to a different hospital for therapy. But now he was fine here.

A nurse took them to John's room and soon after he had changed into one of these nasty hospital gowns, Sean O'Mara arrived.

"Good afternoon, John. Sherlock."

"Hello Sean," John answered with a thin smile.

Sherlock mumbled something about this hardly being a good afternoon. John shot him a reproachful glare, but Sean just shrugged and gave them a reassuring smile. Sean had met Sherlock a couple of times and knew that he generally was not the most social person. And especially in this situation, he didn't expect him to be.

"Everything is prepared, John," he continued. "Any further questions?"

"No. Let's get over with it."

"Fine. We'll fetch you up in a few minutes. I suppose, you don't need something to calm?"

"Course not," John replied with a half-hearted grin.

"OK, I'll leave you two alone, then."

"Can I have something to calm?" Sherlock joked lamely after Sean had left.

"No," John said and pulled Sherlock towards him. He cupped his partner's face in his hands, made him meet his gaze. "Stop worrying. Everything will be alright. OK? I am in capable hands here."

Sherlock made a quiet huff at this statement. The best doctor this hospital has will be on the operating table, he thought but didn't say anything.

"Don't drive the doctors and nurses up the wall. Promise?"

A small grin spread over Sherlock's face. "I'll try."

John pulled Sherlock even closer and they kissed. The kiss was full of desperation, sorrow and fear on both sides. Neither of them wanted to let go, but soon they heard the door open once again.

"I love you," John whispered.

"I love you too."


"How long will the surgery take?" Sherlock asked. He accompanied Sean and the two nurses who pushed John's bed towards the operation area.

"It depends on how deeply the tumor has grown into the surrounding tissue." Sean answered and Sherlock had to suppress a shudder. This was the critical part of the surgery. "But I suppose not more than two hours."

They reached the entrance of the OP-area.

"Claire," Sean pointed towards one of the nurses, "will show you where you can wait. I'll come around right after the surgery is over. OK?" Sherlock nodded weakly. "We'll take good care of him, I promise." Then the doors went open and they drove John away.


After three hours, Sherlock was about to kill someone. Something went wrong. Images of John bleeding out on the operation table ghosting through his mind, the steady tune of a flat line ringing in his ears. When a nurse passed the door, Sherlock sprinted forward grabbing her arm firmly and demanded to know what happened to his partner. The young woman stepped back from him anxiously, tears in her eyes as she hurried away. A moment later an elder nurse entered the room and told him that the surgery was still in progress. She gave him an unmistakable warning that she would call security if he got rough against the staff one more time.

Sherlock was left alone once again and let out a frustrated groan. He paced through the waiting room, barley able to suppress the upcoming panic. After 20 more seemingly endless minutes Dr. Sean O'Mara finally came in. Sherlock immediately tried to deduce the doctor. He looked tired. That was all. That was all he could see. Sherlock was shaken with fear so much that he was unable to make any helpful deductions about Dr. O'Mara, the surgery or John's condition.

"What happened?" Sherlock demanded before Sean even had a chance to open his mouth. "Something went wrong. Was it the blood loss? How is he?"

"Please Sherlock, calm down," Sean said raising his hands in a placating gesture. "Yes there had been slight complications. John lost a certain amount of blood, so a transfusion was needed. And we had some problems with his blood pressure during the surgery. But he is stable now. He is in the ICU and if he doesn't get an infection or any further complications, he will be fine."

Sherlock stared at Sean, trying to perceive the information the doctor just told him. Blood loss. ICU. But stable. "What about the tumor?"

"We were able to remove it completely. It has been sent to the lab. The results should be back in about three days."

Blood loss. ICU. Stable. Tumor gone. Sherlock snapped out of his thoughts when he felt Sean's hands on his upper arms. "Sherlock, John is going to be fine," he said in a calming voice once again. "Come, I'll take you to him."

Sherlock had to disinfect his hands and put a sterile coat over his clothes before he was allowed to enter John's room in the ICU. John was surrounded by several machines which monitored his vital signs and a drip was attached to his left arm. He was ghostly pale and looked so fragile as if he was closer to death than to life. An overwhelming rage came over Sherlock mixed with fear. He would like to yell to someone, throw something against the wall. But he knew that he would probably get banned from hospital after that. Besides, nothing of this would help to improve his partner's condition. So he sat by John's bedside, trying to get his emotions under control, and took his hand, waiting for John to wake up from anesthesia. Sherlock didn't know how much time had passed but after a while John began to stir a bit and showed signs of wakening. "John," Sherlock said softly. "John, wake up."

It took some more moments until John finally opened his eyes. He looked around, disoriented at first but soon realization of his situation settled in. "Didn't go as planned?" he asked weakly. He felt tired and dizzy. His whole body felt so heavy, even keeping his eyes open was a challenge.

"No. Not exactly. You are in the ICU. You lost blood during surgery." Sherlock said, still holding John's hand and stroking small circles on it with his thumb.

"Told you, that could happen," John said.

"Are you in pain?"

John shook his head slightly. "No. I'm fine."

"You gave us a little scare, John," Sean O'Mara said. Sherlock looked up. He hadn't heard the other man coming in.

"I'm sorry," John mumbled at looked at his colleague. "How much blood?"

"Just one unit. But your blood pressure went a little crazy. We had to make a small break during surgery until it stabilized." Sean explained briefly about the tumor being removed and sent to the lab. He checked John's vitals and left him and Sherlock alone once again.

Both men spent the afternoon mostly in silence. John was too exhausted and weak for any conversation. He dozed most of the time while Sherlock held his hand or stroked his hair. Occasionally he asked his partner if he felt any pain. But John didn't due to strong pain killers.

In the evening, John wasn't allowed to eat yet but managed to drink a glass of water, Sean visited his patient and friend once again. "We'll administer a mild sedation for the night so your body can rest and regain some strength, ok?"

John just nodded. "Doing me favor, Sean?"

"Sure."

"Ensure Sherlock goes home afterwards."

"But John…" Sherlock began but was shut silent by a slight squeeze of his hand.

"I'll be asleep the whole night. There is nothing you can do here. Please go home and get some rest yourself," John said and felt so exhausted by this little speech his eyelids began to drop.

Sherlock saw the fatigue of his partner and decided not to argue with him. "OK."

"I'll take care of it," Sean replied as he administered the sedative into the drip.

"Good night, see you tomorrow," John whispered before he felt into a drug-induced sleep.

Sherlock didn't left immediately but stayed for another hour until he finally decided to keep his promise and go home. He stroke over John's cheeks and pressed a kiss on his partner's forehead. Panic rushed through Sherlock's body as he touched John's face again. His skin felt warm. Too warm.