They moved on.
But not in the simple way it seemed like, when they told people that.
"We've moved on," John would tell people, like it was that simple.
And they did, because they had to, but it wasn't smooth sailing, it was cliffs and whirlpools and tidal waves.
"We've moved on," he would repeat, when they kept asking questions, with a forced smile.
But human lives don't work that way. It's not the same as taking sand out of a bucket. The other sand fills its place, but it doesn't work like that with humans. They adapt and they work around it, but nothing can take the place of what they lost.
But they did move on, however complicated that was, no matter how simple it sounded. They did it because they had to.
Sherlock fell over once when he went to his mind palace and forgot he was standing up. He blinked at John when he came rushing back into the room, having heard the crash.
He fell out of the shower and John came bursting in, concerned he'd broken something or hurt himself, when all that was damaged was Sherlock's pride. He learned to dry off before trying to get out of the tub.
The milk was on the top shelf of the fridge, and Sherlock couldn't reach it without lifting a crutch off the ground and nearly falling over. The milk had to be kept on a middle shelf until Sherlock worked out how to balance with only one crutch. (John almost liked that for a bit, since they didn't run out of milk as quickly, but the frustration that it caused Sherlock wasn't worth it.)
Sherlock could no longer stand and play the violin, stand and compose. He had to do it all seated, which he normally did, but the limitations were frustrating.
But they moved on.
John suspected Sherlock's lack of progress was what frustrated him most.
They both knew that the nerve damage could improve, and both knew the exact likelihood of that happening, but it still hurt when it didn't happen.
Despite all the physical therapy, three days a week with Alex, and the rest of the days with John watching over his shoulder, no feeling or control had returned to Sherlock's legs.
Alex tried to explain that it took time, if it was going to happen, for nerve to form and begin to work.
Sherlock only went off on a tirade about stem cells and the rate of nerve fibre growth (one millimetre a day), and Alex didn't bring the subject up again.
