The next couple weeks were strange. For me, at least. Things, I suppose naturally, progressed between John and myself. We started sleeping together. And when I say sleeping, I mean actually sleeping. I wasn't about to bring up the idea of sex with John, and he didn't bring it up either. It was bizarre enough for me to be so comfortable with him as physical as it was. John was infinitely more relaxed, however, so the few moments I was on the verge of panicking about the physicality I was able to pull myself back down with that reality. The sleeping together part was probably the most beneficial for both us. I suppose since our subconscious minds knew the other was right next to us, we were both able to finally get some decent sleep.

Getting sleep made a world of difference for both of us. John's mood became infinitely more stable; happy, even. His violent attacks became few and long between. When they did happen, they weren't usually as horrific. They were still bad and there was still one or two that were just as terrible, but they were getting better. That's what mattered.

His speech was steadily improving. Slowly, he began to form full sentences. Every now and again he would get frustrated and would have to sign something to me, but it was happening less often every day. I was able to focus more on learning sign and finally began to catch on. John attributed it to my getting more sleep and food, but that's clearly not true.

The best part of all of these changes was that John was actually recognizing his own improvements. Whereas before he'd only see his faults and failures and get angry and frustrated, now he was seeing his successes. This significantly helped his mood which, in turn, helped me relax.

In fact, I soon got to the point where I was confident enough that John could take care of himself that I started fiddling with my science equipment again. John noticed, of course, and thoroughly encouraged it. He would read and I would experiment. This arrangement worked well for both of us. I believe that with the amount of time we had been spending with each other, exclusively focused on nothing else, would have hurt our relationship quickly now that he was less and less dependent on me.

My brain appreciated the chance to experiment as well. It had been growing stale and the stimulation was a breath of fresh air. I soon grew comfortable enough to let myself be immersed and lose myself in what I was doing. I made sure to keep John somewhat close (I was more comfortable with that anyway since we'd fallen into a romantic relationship) but focused completely on what I was selfishly working on. I figured I could kill two birds with one stone and practice my signing as well, which helped organize my rusty and rampant thoughts. Apparently John noticed this.

One afternoon I realized suddenly he had been watching me for a couple minutes. More specifically, he'd been watching my hands. I stopped as soon as I noticed and he looked up, grinning. I frowned at him, confused.

"What is it?" I asked. He took a moment to read my lips and then shook his head, still grinning wildly.

"Your sign. Doesn't make any sense," he said shortly. I glanced down at my hands, slightly embarrassed. To be perfectly honest, I hadn't even realized I had been signing in the first place. I looked back up at him and did the first thing that came to mind: I stuck my tongue out at him.

John burst into laughter. Which, I suppose, was completely warranted but it took me off guard. I suddenly realized I hadn't heard him actually laugh since before his disappearance. I grinned at him, chuckling lowly, before swooping over and giving him a kiss on the forehead. I had no idea how else to say it. To say thank you. You're doing well. I've missed you. We're getting through this. And we're doing it together.

The book is getting boring. "The Hobbit" had been so much fun, I had decided to try "The Lord of the Rings". That is proving to be a lot harder. I give up for the moment and look up to where Sherlock is. I'm so happy he's doing something for himself again. I can tell he's enjoying it.

Sherlock is very into what he's doing. I don't get it at all, of course, but I don't think I ever did, even before all of this. He steps back for a moment, I guess to catch up with his thoughts. That seems to be the best guess because his hands start moving, start signing. I watch them, trying to follow along, see if maybe I can understand what he's doing.

I'm immediately hopelessly confused. And it's not because his thought process is too advanced for me, it's simply because his sign makes no sense. Star-laugh-dark-knife-chemical-orange-Chinese...

I'm grinning. If it works for him, that's fine, but it's still amusing to watch. Especially when I see absolutely no connection between anything that he's signing. Suddenly he looks up, noting my smile. He frowns and asks what it is.

"Your sign," I say. "Doesn't make sense."

He glances down at his hands which have frozen in place. It's so funny. Then he looks up at me again and he sticks his tongue out at me! Like a five-year-old!

And then I'm laughing. It's simple, it's small, but it's still funny. And I just wonder how I became the lucky one to be here with Sherlock. To be able to call him mine. It baffles me. And I love it. Almost as much as I honestly just straight out love him.

A/N: Sorry this update took me so long. It's going to be like this for a while. This week I started my summer job as a camp counselor. I get free time for an hour every day, but I only get five to six hours of sleep a night so I usually try to nap then. Also, I'm moving from location to location every week, so I don't know if I'll have internet at every place I go. However, TA DA, I have this for you.

I love you all, you all are incredible. Thank you so much for your support of this story.

I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!