Okay, so I forgot to put a note so here's a slightly edited version... sorry!

I really appreciate reviews guys, and it would seem they're not coming as thick and fast as I'd hoped. Please? Don't make me beg!

I've no idea where this is going anymore so I might round it off after a few more chapters, but I will get some JohnLock in before I finish. Is there anything you guys want me to add in? At all? Anything?


After two days of sitting next to John's hospital bed, only getting up to go to the bathroom, Sherlock was getting restless and anxious. Would he ever wake up? If he does wake up, will there be any…damage? Brain damage? All of these thoughts and thoughts alike were swirling around Sherlock's head. He had to force himself to think of something else otherwise he would think himself into depression.

Lestrade appeared at the door but didn't enter. He simply watched, unnoticed, while Sherlock grabbed John's hand and laid his head on it, willing him to wake up. Lestrade, in all of his years of knowing Sherlock, had never seen him care for anyone like this.

He nudged the door open with his shoulder as he aimed his sight at John but walked towards Sherlock who was sitting on the other side of the bed.

Sherlock's head shifted slowly from side to side. He picked it up resentfully, looking to Lestrade as though he had the weight of the world pushing it back down.

"How's he doing?"

Sherlock's head jerked back in disgust. "How do you think he's doing? His eyes have been shut for forty-eight hours and he is showing no signs of waking up. Two of his limbs are locked in casts and he has grazes everywhere. Ask me again. I dare you… to ASK… ME… AGAIN!" His lips were trembling and his eyes were threatening to let tears roll down his cheeks. Quickly, he returned his focus to John.

I wonder if Sherlock knows I can hear him. It feels like such a task to open my eyes. If only I could see his face again, I would have enough energy to sprint across London. Come on, John, you can do this. Just… open you eyes. Useless!

Sherlock sounds pretty cut up about this. What was the last thing that happened? Well, I remember going to a house and finding Sherlock being dragged out by Anderson, Donovan and Lestrade. Then… and then Sherlock and I talked. But, what about? Damn it, John, THINK!

"Lestrade, I'm… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap like that." Sherlock's gaze fell to John's chest, watching it move steadily up and down.

"I understand. It can't be easy."

"You say you understand, but you don't. For the first time in my life, I love someone and now he's close to death, fighting for his life. Honestly, has this ever happened to you?"

Lestrade's face filled with regret as he wondered why he bothered. "No. I'll leave you two alone."

His timing could not have been better as John's eyelids strained upwards to reveal his big, brown eyes. He panted as he spoke slowly, barely comprehendible. "He's just being nice." A chuckle started in his belly but stopped suddenly and was overtaken by a groan as it reached his ribs.

Sherlock's head snapped from the door to John. "I was worried about you." He frowned vaguely. "I…thought you weren't going to wake up. How much of that did you hear?"

John observed Sherlock, his hair dishevelled and his eyes frantic. "From when Lestrade came in." He forced another chuckle through his body.

John had to stay in hospital for another forty-eight hours before e could go home. Mycroft and all of the nurses and doctors in the hospital had tried to insist on him staying for another few days but, Sherlock being Sherlock, he protested like a four-year-old, adamant that his care was the best on offer, however most did not agree.

A few hours after his tantrum, Sherlock wheeled John through the door of 221B and helped him onto the sofa.

"Are you okay? Tea? Coffee?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows and scanned the room for anything that John may want.

"No, I'm fine thanks. Although, I could use my laptop. The blog needs updating."

Sherlock sprang into action, burrowing on the desk for both laptops. Quickly, he came across John's and handed it to him. "What exactly are you going to update? You've been in hospital for four days." Sherlock slumped into his chair opposite John firing up his own laptop.

John looked away from his laptop in thought. "I suppose nothing, then. I'll just sit here and do… nothing until I can walk again." He looked around the room with a fake bored expression on his face.

Sherlock shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Chess?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said 'Chess?'. I played it in my youth. Mostly with myself, but I played. Do you know how?" Sherlock continued to stare at John for a moment rather innocently.

John was surprised by the offer. "You played on your own? Why?"

"Does it matter? Do you know how to play chess?"

"Yeah, kind of. Can you remind me?"

This idea was intriguing to Sherlock. Maybe there was an experiment screaming to get out. No. Now's not the time. "Sure." The corners of Sherlock's mouth rose slightly as he lifted himself out of his chair and headed for his bedroom.

John stayed where he was as moving would require a lot of effort. He observed Sherlock as he walked away from him. It wasn't like him to put all his efforts into occupying John. Was he changing? If so: why?

Sherlock returned a moment later with a small, foot-long chest. It was covered in dust which he blew off then wiped with care. His eyes scanned the front of it as he undid the clasp and opened the lid.

Half an hour passed as Sherlock explained the rules to John and they played a fake game so he could get back into the swing of it. For once, it was a comfortable half hour in the flat. No running around, no experimenting and no shouting.

"John?" Sherlock didn't look up as he addressed his flat mate.

"Yeah?" John, however, lifted his gaze to look at Sherlock.

"What's the last thing you remember before the crash?" He kept his head looking at the board as he moved his queen across the board to take John's bishop.

"Umm… I remember Lestrade dragging you out of the door and then you and I talked, but I don't remember what about. I'm assuming that, whatever it was, it cause us to get into the cab which we crashed in. Apart from that, it's blank."

Sherlock froze as he processed what John had just said. It had taken months for them to admit their feelings for each other and now they will have to do it all over again. More importantly, will John still have the same feelings for Sherlock?

These thoughts continued to spin around Sherlock's head for the remainder of the evening. They watched a film, ordered Chinese and played another game of chess.

Sherlock paid close attention to John that night and vowed to until he was walking again. He wanted to observe every little thing about John until he was agile enough to notice.

Throughout the evening, John replayed what he heard Sherlock say in the hospital when he thought he was asleep. "For the first time in my life, I love someone" This made John smile every time he thought about it. Now, how was he going to respond?


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