Chapter ten.

John woke up to the feel of cool and crisp sheets, tightly tucked around him. There was the unmistakable smell of disinfectant and the far off beep of a heart monitor. He knew before he opened his eyes, that he must be in a hospital. The florescent light above the bed stung his eyes as he opened them and tried to sit up. A pale blue curtain was pulled closed around his bed, shielding him from the rest of the patients. Pulling the sheets loose around his legs, he moaned as a sharp pain ran through his chest. Sliding the blue hospital robe down his arm, he looked down and saw a bandage tightly wrapped around his shoulder. Running his hand gently over the wound, it stung slightly. He guessed it was a burn. He had not noticed it until now, at the time he was so concerned about getting Sherlock out he did not spare himself a thought. There was no way they could have got away with out a few cuts and bruises. His head now clearing, his thoughts instantly turned back to Sherlock. He had got off much worse than John. His mind raced as he started to panic. There was so much blood. Sherlock could hardly speak when they laid on the grass. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he tried to stand but his weight seemed too heavy to hold. He pulled at the curtain by the side of the bed, trying to stay upright. Alarms started sounding, a repetitive high-pitched squeak. Looking down John noticed he had pulled a few wires from his chest.

"What are we doing up." A nurse called, heaving the curtain open and directing John back to his bed.

"Sherlock," he wheezed, his throat still dry from the smoke. "Where is he? Is he okay?"

"Hush now dear," she cooed, "He is just next door."

"But there was so much blood." He could feel tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

"He's in good hands here. He will be fine."

"But the-"

"I assure you that he is quite alright,"

John's gaze snapped to the person who had just entered the ward.

"And from what I heard, it is all thanks to you," a faint smile flickered over the man's lips, "But I'm sure that if it wasn't for your carelessness, he wouldn't even be in this mess." He nodded at the nurse and she hurried out the room. He passed his umbrella from hand to hand, not taking his eyes off John.

"I'm sorry but who are you?" He was not sure if he liked this guy, the way he stared, unblinkingly was slightly off putting and it put John on edge.

"Mycroft Holmes. I'm Sherlock's brother," He chuckled at John's surprised reaction. "Hmm, I had a feeling he hadn't told you. He isn't too keen on me for some reason or another." He frowned a little at his last statement, seeming to be lost in thought.

"No, Sherlock hasn't really told me much about himself."

"He does like to be secretive, my brother…"

"You can say that again." He gave the tall man a weak smile. Looking closely Mycroft did look a little like his sibling. They shared the same high cheekbones and held themselves in a similar upright posture. But he was much older, maybe nine or ten years.

"There is an eleven year age gap." Mycroft stated. Not moving from where he stood in the door way.

John gaped slightly. That was far too creepy.

"It did surprise me that Mummy had another. From the day that he was born, I was always worried about him. But I suppose worry is inescapable when it comes to those that we care for. I'm sure you know the feeling." He smirked.

John said nothing, a slight frown creasing his face. It was true, he had come to terms with it now and he really did care for Sherlock. He was always there in the back of his mind. He knew that if he was in danger he would not hesitate to risk everything to save him and that being away from him, even for a few days, soon made him long to be near him again.

"Yeah, he's a good friend." He smiled.

"Friend, now that is defiantly what he needs." Mycroft paused a second, until deciding to continue. "I have never really been able to be there for Sherlock. I was away at school for most of his childhood and by the time he had started school I was moving out. It was in his second year of school that he met Moriarty. I did not like him; he was not good for Sherlock. But he was the only friend he had. He convinced my brother that he did not need friends, that the world would always see him as an oddity, an outsider. So he started to act like one, he distanced himself from others. I was working at this point and by the time I noticed what had happened it was too late, Moriarty had turned Sherlock on the others and in turn they had turned on him in return," Mycroft sighed, looking John straight in the eyes. "But you're different. You are good for him, John. The Sherlock I knew would never do what he did for you, for anyone. I know this may be a burden to put on your shoulders but I would like you to stay with him."

"I want to stay with him." John blurted out, quickly followed by a bright blush. "He's not like anyone I have ever met. He… he's… amazing." Not being able to find another word to describe him, he kept his head down, not being able to meet Mycroft's harsh stare.

"Indeed he is," Checking his watch he sighed. "I have work to be done. I think this conversation would be better if it stayed between us. I hope to see you again soon, Mr. Watson." Striding out the ward, John listened to his umbrella tap on the tiled floor as he made his exit, thinking over Mycroft's words.

It took a lot of persuading from John but he finally got the nurses to let him in Sherlock's room. It was a privately paid room, set up by Mycroft, more dimly lit with only a window looking onto the foggy Scottish highlands.

"You have ten minuets," the nurse stated. John opened his mouth to protest, "You are not meant to be in here at all." She sighed, closing the door behind her as she left the room.

John turned to face the sleeping Sherlock; he was pale, with a dark bruise across his cheek. His leg was un-tucked from the blanket, it wrapped tightly in a clean white bandage. He walked, with a slight limp, over to his sleeping friend. He took a seat next to his bed watching the rise and fall of his chest. He wore a light blue hospital robe much like the one John had been given but it was too big over his slim frame. His collarbone was exposed from where it had slipped off his shoulder. John bit down on his bottom lip slightly at the sight. He looked so peaceful asleep. With no quick-witted calculations running through his head, he seemed finally at rest. John pushed a lose strand of Sherlock's dark hair behind his cheek, leaving his hand resting there. Sherlock stirred slightly at the contact until he leaned into the touch, a slight smile on his face.

"John," he sighed.

The sandy haired teen flushed, quickly removing his hand. "Hello." He said lamely.

Sherlock chuckled; slowly he opened his eyes to meet John's. He ran a hand through his mused curls, pulling them away from his face. He tried to sit up but winced when he moved his leg. John rushed to his aid, propping him up with pillows and loosening off the sheets before retuning back to his seat. They both stayed silent.

"I thought I had lost you," John murmured breaking the tension.

"Well, if it were me, we would not be in this mess..." He replied a distant, sad smile on his face.

"That's what your brother said about me." John looked up to meet Sherlock's rather surprised gaze.

"Mycroft was here? Why?"

"Well he is your brother."

"Yes but he doesn't like me…" Sherlock sighed.

John laughed, "For someone who can tell what their favorite food is by the parting in your hair, you can be a little dense. Your brother cares for you. He said so himself."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, "What else has he said to you?"

John blushed, remembering their conversation, "Nothing," John murmured, "Just stuff. About us..."

"Us?"

"Just that he wants us to stay friends," John could feel his ears heating up; he could only guess how red he must be.

"Hmmm, I agree," John looked up to face his roommate. "We should stay friends. It is not often that I come to an agreement with Mycroft. And for your information, someone's haircut would be no help at all when it comes to their culinary taste."

John grinned. Looking down his eyes stopped on Sherlock's wounded leg. A stab of guilt ran through him. "Why did you risk running into a burning building for me." John could not take his eyes off the bandage. "If it wasn't for me this would have never happened, you wouldn't be here." He sniffed. "Sherlock, I'm so sorry, this is-" he was stopped by a gentle hand resting on his arm.

"Don't even start to think this is your fault. John, I don't know what I would do with out you. It's been so long since anyone has shown me any kindness." Sherlock ran his hand up John's arm, fingers knitting into his hair.

"It was horrible without you," John spoke softly leaning into his roommates touch. "You know they put me in a room with Anderson!" he joked slightly.

Sherlock sat up, pulling John towards him, till their faces were almost touching.

"You wouldn't be leaving me for that idiot would you?" his breathe tickling John's cheek.

"N-no," he stuttered in reply, "I don't think I could."

Sherlock chuckled, staring into his deep brown eyes.

John felt his heart flutter as the lean boy edged forward, a slight smirk on his face.

"But I don't think I will allow you to leave now, Mr. Watson," He whispered before he closed the short gap between their lips. John's eyes slid closed, as he let Sherlock claim his mouth. He curled his hands around Sherlock's waist, leaning down towards him, the kiss getting more heated with every passing moment. He felt hands travel down his spine, clinging onto his hospital robe.

"John, times up, out you- Oh my!" the nurse stood in the door, looking a little flustered.

John quickly pulled away from Sherlock, "Ermm, yeah, I, err." He stammered, making a swift exit. At the door he turned to a rather rumpled Sherlock, "See you in a bit then." He murmured. Sherlock laughed, his head falling back onto his pillow.

Author's Note-

Wow, it feels great to not have any more exams! (well till next year...). I hope you like this chapter, it was horrible to write but I am quite pleased with it! Now that I don't have any more revision i can get back to updating faster. Yay, More work... I would like to know what you think of Mycroft. Lots of people portray him as the bad guy but i like the idea that he cares, in his own twisted way. I will repeat what I say in every chapter "Thanks for the reviews" and all that lark! And an apology for my "appalling" grammar/spelling that this was filled with before I made the wonderful Chloe go through it all! So for now my dear reader... GOODNIGHT!

P.s I just looked over this, there is soooo much bloody talking! Lol.