AN: Chapter 10! Here's a nice long chapter for all you people! I know it's taken a long time for Sherlock and John to meet properly, but I felt it was important to address John's indecisiveness about the whole thing and how Sherlock missed John. Please don't hate me!

Enjoy!

Rules, Regulations and Regent's Park

Sherlock woke up to the sound of his alarm beeping. He reached up to turn it off and snuggled back into his blankets again, enjoying the warmth they offered. He used to hate alarms. They woke him up far too early as he once preferred to sleep in. He didn't mind them so much now. Alarms gave him routines and routines were nice. Soothing.

He flung himself out of bed and padded barefoot down to the kitchens. The cook gave him his breakfast (eggs, not his favourite but, okay) and he didn't say anything as he wolfed it down. The staff made him anxious. They never made facial expressions, and it unnerved him to not know what they were thinking.

Mycroft wandered in as the cook took away Sherlock's dishes. He was already fully dressed in a grey three piece suit. Sherlock liked that he wore the same thing nearly every day. Familiarity was good. Sherlock eyed the cook warily as she smiled at him.

"Good morning, Sherlock. I trust you slept well." Said his brother as the lady prepared his breakfast.

Sherlock slipped off his stool and wandered past his annoying sibling into the hallway. Mycroft gave his untouched breakfast a longing glance and followed with a sigh. He said good morning again and found that he was being given the silent treatment. So it was going to be one of those days, Mycroft grumbled silently. They both went back to Sherlock's room to find it had already been cleaned by the maid. Sherlock didn't like it when other people touched his things, but he liked being tidy and organized, so he didn't mind it today.

Mycroft took out his brother's clothes from the closet and laid them out on his freshly made bed. He then helped Sherlock undress and ran the bath for him, adding scented soaps and bubbles. Mycroft attempted to coax Sherlock into a conversation as they were rare these days. He wondered what his little brother thought about. It pained Mycroft to know that his brother's talent and intellect was…locked away. He hoped one day with the right kind of psychological training, he might be able to unlock it again and get his brother back.

"Do you know why I've taken out your suit rather than your regular clothes?" Since Sherlock refused to participate in his mental exercises, Mycroft hoped that by asking questions and engaging his brain, he would provoke thought process and cognitive response. Sherlock climbed into the tub and started scrubbing his skin. Mycroft began washing his hair gently. Sherlock stiffened under his brother's touch, but allowed him to keep massaging his head.

"You're going out today with Nurse Hiles. I told you yesterday where you were going, do you remember?"

He seemed to have captured Sherlock's attention. Sherlock gave the first eye contact he'd had with anyone in days.

"You're going to visit John. For a whole day."

Sherlock's eyes lit up and while he didn't say anything, Mycroft knew his brother was paying close attention.

"You'll spend all day with him. Twelve hours, no more, no less."

Mycroft explained the schedule for the day to his brother. Sherlock's therapist had mentioned that trauma victims took comfort in habits and routines. Mycroft had embraced this and planned out every minute of his brother's life. For the first time, Mycroft never worried about what his younger brother was doing, because he always knew.

Mycroft rinsed out his brother's hair and let him dry himself while he packed Sherlock's day bag. He filled it with all the things John would need for Sherlock. Mycroft only sent the nurse along in case something happened to Sherlock that John wasn't trained for. She would mill about, not in the way, but still present. Mycroft was well aware of John's long career and impressive record as an army doctor, but his psychological knowledge only went so far.

Sherlock came out of the bathroom in his towel and dressed himself in the suit laid out on the bed. Mycroft had to choke back a sob as Sherlock popped up the collar on his coat. He looked just like his old self.

"I want to go see John now."

Sherlock, Mycroft and Nurse Hiles drove out into the heart of London where they would meet up with John.

xxx

John chewed his toast. It felt like his tongue was sliding over carpet. He choked down one piece before pushing away the rest of his breakfast. He was so nervous he didn't know what to do with himself.

Maybe get dressed? His mind said. John reluctantly agreed (concerned at how he had begun to talk to himself), and washed then dressed himself.

It's just a day out. It's just a day out. You haven't committed to anything; it's just a day out. With Sherlock. With Sherlock...and a nurse. Because he has brain damage. Yeah, John could do this, no biggie.

He tied his shoelaces and wandered out into the kitchen. He had spent the whole week planning what he was going to do with Sherlock. Mycroft had called last night to explain some rules and boundaries. John began packing a picnic basket and pulled out a list of instructions and hints he had written down.

Number one: He can't handle large crowds or loud noises. They scared him and he would shut down. He once switched languages; he was so confused about what was happening to him. John knew that he was screwed if this happened to him. Sherlock also tended to block out everything around him until he felt safe to come back, which could be up to three days. So no busy places for them.

Number two: Schedules. Lots of schedules. Apparently Sherlock liked knowing what was going to happen and when. Not surprising considering how much of a control freak he had been before. John smiled a little.

Number three: Sherlock was a lot more emotional now and was very prone to 'distributing physical affection' as Mycroft had so carefully put it. He struggled to express emotions through words so he used touch instead, the results sometimes being harmful.

Number four: He didn't require assistance, but Sherlock needed to be supervised when he visited the restroom, as he occasionally suffered dizzy spells. If Sherlock fell while alone in a bathroom and cracked his head, no one would know. This rule nearly made John cancel their day together. He was glad he wouldn't have to help his mate piss, but watching was nearly just as bad. (Dammit John, you're a doctor, have some professionalism here!)

Number five: Medication. Sherlock was required to take three different pills at every meal and another two whenever he got a migraine. These migraines were stress induced, so when handled correctly, Sherlock experienced very few of them. John hoped he wouldn't have a drugged out Sherlock on his hands for half the day.

Number six: Communication. Sherlock no longer had the ability to speak at a million miles a minute. In fact, he struggled to comprehend any fast talking. John would have to experiment to see what his ranges were. He wasn't looking forward to it. He also didn't understand sarcasm or rhetorical questions as he took everything literally. John was struggling. If he couldn't even talk fast, how much of his old Sherlock was still left?

Number seven: He was compulsive. Usually when Sherlock saw something he liked or didn't like, he reacted to it immediately, not thinking about repercussions. This could be dangerous for him and those around him.

The list went on, but they mainly contained information on how to calm him down when angry or upset or what his likes and dislikes were.

It was like he was reading the biography of a completely different person. A few of the things John remembered about Sherlock were still there, but so much was new, different...altered. It was like the cold and mean Sherlock he once knew had been rearranged into a new, more palatable version of himself. John hated it.

He tucked the list into his pocket and lugged the basket down the stairs. He went back up to collect a few items and his coat before saying goodbye to Mrs Hudson-

("You never told me you were seeing him!" "Yes sorry, Mrs Hudson! Goodbye, Mrs Hudson. I have to go now, Mrs Hudson!")

John pulled the front door shut and hailed hail a cab. He managed to flag one down and he climbed in, massaging his aching shoulder.

"Regent's Park."

xxx

Sherlock climbed out of the black car and let Nurse Hiles lead him to a nearby bench. Mycroft followed behind, umbrella swinging along with him. It was a partly cloudy day and it wouldn't rain, but he liked the feel of the wooden handle. He looked around the green park, searching for John. If it weren't for the vibrating energy that rolled off Sherlock in waves during the ride, Mycroft would have thought he was bored.

Sherlock sat at the bench and attempted to relax himself. His nurse talked in a soothing voice about the birds and weather and Sherlock tuned her out. She was boring. John wasn't boring. He wanted to see John, where was he?

John stepped out of the cab and pulled out the basket. After handing the cabbie a few notes, he wandered. After a quarter of an hour, his shoulder began to ache horribly and he wished he had brought a trolley instead of a basket. He sat down at a vacant bench and groaned as he rolled his shoulder in the socket.

In a way, John was excited. He knew it was ridiculous, but he was. He would get to spend time with his...pal? Friend? He wasn't quite sure what they were now. What did Sherlock think of him as? What was he able to perceive now?

"John!"

Oh. Well he wouldn't have to wait long for the answer. He turned to his right and saw a party of three approaching, one much faster than the rest. John stood up, happy but nervous and he walked towards them. Sherlock's coat enveloped him completely as Sherlock hugged him.

"Sherlock!" John choked as he was taken by surprise. He tentatively wrapped his arms around the skinny man and hugged him back. John had never been hugged by him before...it was…he didn't know what to think.

Sherlock let go and stepped away, eyes twinkling. John was struck by how...normal he looked. He was wearing his usual suit, too tight shirt (John gulped) and his black trench coat. He even had the collar up, the git. Mycroft and the nurse, carrying a small black bag, came and stood by Sherlock. He was beaming widely.

The last time John saw him was four weeks ago and he didn't even look that hard at the time. He had been afraid to. Afraid that it wouldn't actually be his Sherlock. But the person standing in front of him was. But he also wasn't.

"Hello John, How have you been?" asked Mycroft pleasantly.

"Uh, before we get the day started, Mycroft, do you mind if we talk for a bit?"

Mycroft exchanged a look with the nurse and nodded. Sherlock looked panicked as the two began walking away. John, quick to reassure his friend (?) said,

"Don't worry Sherlock; we're just going for a little walk. I'll bring Mycroft right back."

"I don't care about him."

John didn't know what to say. He gave a small, reassuring smile and began walking with Mycroft along the path.

John watched out the corner of his eye as the tall detective was led back to a bench with the nurse. She had brown hair that was tied up under a white hat. She seemed nice, though Sherlock didn't look too comfortable with her.

"Alright John, what do you want to know?" asked Mycroft languidly.

John stumbled over his words as he decided which question to ask first. There was so much information to clarify.

"Well, let's start with his language swapping."

Mycroft chuckled. "Yes, that was a surprise. I suppose you want to know what caused it?" John nodded.

"We were going out on the Tube to an appointment at rush hour, and upon contemplation; it probably wasn't the best idea to go at that time." John chuckled quietly, "Too many people were touching him, too many noises, and too many distractions. He panicked and buckled. When we got off the carriage he became so confused as to where he was he began speaking a mix of five different languages. Thankfully I managed to calm him and convince him we were in England, not France, Germany, Spain or Sweden. We've made sure to avoid large crowds after that and we haven't had another incidence that drastic since."

"How did you calm him down?" The list John had wasn't extremely detailed and he couldn't take any chances when it came to Sherlock's care.

"I sang."

John went a bit hot in the face. "What did you sing?"

Mycroft smiled to himself before replying, "The Periodic Table of Elements Song." John laughed and Mycroft chortled, his umbrella swinging. It was a strained laugh, born only from not knowing what else to do.

"I'm sure he would react just as well to anything any other song, John. Should the need arise, you'll do fine. Nurse Hiles will be there to assist you in case anything happened that you weren't trained for."

John nodded and asked his next question.

"Does he still smoke?"

"I've encouraged him to quit, and he's been good so far. But occasionally he gets restless and…It's just easier to sometimes give him what he wants."

John huffed. "Well that won't be happening with me. I use to think back when we were living together that it would just be easier to give in, give him what he wants. But Sherlock needs to learn that he can't behave like a spoiled child again."

"You may change your mind after today."

John pondered over this before asking his next question.

"Is he close with anyone other than you and me? I was thinking of visiting Detective Inspector Lestrade or Molly Hooper."

"He isn't even close to me, John. And no, he doesn't like socializing much."

"Are you sure he's any different, Mycroft? Sounds like the same old Sherlock to me." His joke fell flat as neither of them laughed.

Mycroft stopped walking and addressed him firmly,

"Doctor Watson, you need to understand that Sherlock doesn't realise anything has happened to him. He thinks that he faked his death to save you and he dismantled Moriarty's web before coming back. He doesn't remember those months he spent in the Russian camp. He thinks he's normal, John."

John felt a lump form in his throat. He thinks he's normal? Images of Sherlock being beaten to a pulp in a cold dark chamber filled his head and he tried to shove them away. He thought about how warm Sherlock had been when he embraced him. It didn't help much.

"But he hugged me before! Surely he knows he wouldn't do that ordinarily."

Mycroft looked at him sadly. "All he thinks is that his time away from you changed him. Made him more human. He thinks he's like everyone else now. He's not calling himself a sociopath anymore John."

"He always lied about being a sociopath." John sighed wearily. He couldn't deal with those thoughts right now.

They continued walking in silence for a while until a thought occurred to John.

"He thinks being away from me changed him? That I made him more human?"

Mycroft glanced at him and examined his umbrella handle. John heard hesitancy in his voice as he said,

"He's developed a…attachment to you of sorts. He hates me now, can hardly stand the sight of me." John smiled slightly, "And he detests the staff at the manor. He asks to see you often and I think…" he sighed, "I'm not sure what he sees you as John, but he most assuredly thinks you're more important than me. And I think he did long before he jumped. So, yes…he thinks you made him more human. I am unable to say whether that is true or not, as I really have no idea."

By this time they had made a small loop through the park and had arrived back at the bench. Sherlock sat at one end, watching John closely and the nurse at the other, watching Sherlock. John forced a smiled and said,

"See? What did I tell you? Back in just under," John checked his watched and groaned, annoyed at himself, "…half an hour." He berated himself for making Sherlock sit still for that long.

"It's quite alright, John. I'm happy to wait."

John felt like he was in a dream as he said goodbye to Mycroft (Sherlock huffed at him) and climbed into another cab with Nurse Hiles. Sherlock had his black bag on his lap and he talked exuberantly about the experiments he wanted to test out and which body parts he would need. He also complained about Mycroft and how badly he wanted to get back to solving cases, with John replying every so often. He was already tired and felt like a nap. The picnic basket crushed John's feet uncomfortably.

It was going to be a long day.

AN: Ugh, so much information. I hate information chapters, but sadly-this had to be one. It's important that you read all of the stuff about Sherlock's...complications (the list) so future chapters make sense :)

Please review, they make me so happy and tell me what you like!