"So, what do you think?" Sherlock asked as John peered at the gruesome pictures on Sherlock's laptop. When John didn't immediately answer Sherlock carried on aloud as if John weren't in the room, "We have twelve Cuckoo Clocks, each clock is not functional and inside each clock is a severed finger, not the same finger though, one clock a thumb, one an index finger, etc. So, John what do you think the killer is trying to tell us?"

John looked up a Sherlock's adorable face and wanted to kiss him on the tip of his nose, "I never thought I would be spending my honeymoon this way," John thought with disappointment and then one glance at Sherlock's bright eyes and John was hooked again. After all what did it matter as long as they were together? "Each finger has been severed at the proximal phalanx," John said and then paused as he waited for Sherlock to ask what the proximal phalanx was.

Sherlock sighed impatiently,"John, I know what a proximal phalanx is, go on."

John grinned sideways at Sherlock and said,"Of course you do. You are a proper genius, my proper genius."

Sherlock's eyes widened, he swallowed, then spoke as if in slow motion, "John, …lets…just focus…on the case." The "s" in case sounded like a hiss as Sherlock elongated the syllables.

John blushed looked away and then said, "Right, then, the fingers…Umm..the victims appear to be male and female, with no random pattern."

"Think, John there is always a pattern. Twelve adults, male and female, all different nationalities, John don't you see?" Without waiting for John to reply, Sherlock's words burst out like a machine gun, "John, the twelve people, they are jurors."

John was starting to tire and he should have taken a pain pill at least two hours prior, for he could feel the dull ache at the base of his spine starting to throb, "Sherlock," John began and then stopped when the sound of his growling stomach filled the room.

Sherlock moved his head to one side and then looked at his watch, "Oh it's only after midnight, but no matter, are you hungry John?"

John nodded for the pain was becoming so intense that he didn't trust himself to speak. Sherlock jumped up from his chair with such energy that John envied how smooth Sherlock's movements were, he then came around and pushed John's wheelchair into the kitchen. After a few bewildering attempts of looking in the refrigerator, and saying things like, "Oh, I forgot about the spleen and damn Mrs. Hudson has been invading my privacy again for I felt certain there was a lung in here as well." Sherlock bounced around the room and finally settled on a box of stale crackers and some tepid tea.

John smiled and took the meager rations gratefully, for Sherlock beamed with pride at the fact that he actually found something for John to eat. Once John finished a few crackers and the tea he fished a pain pill out of his pocket, as Sherlock ran around behind him, pushing his chair back in the sitting room. "God, I'm exhausted," John thought as he struggled to maintain equilibrium between the pain and his normal countenance, for he didn't want Sherlock to see him grimace as he fought for control.

"Sherlock, I'm a bit tired, do you mind if I go to sleep now?" John asked in between breaths.

Sherlock smacked his head with the heel of his palm and said, "God, John what a selfish pig I have been, you must be exhausted. Come on, let's put you to bed."

Sherlock's bedroom, soon to be their bedroom was a chaotic mess, socks, various garments, an old bag of crisps, and various unidentified objects lay scattered around the room.

John laughed and said, "Sherlock, don't worry about the room, its fine. What I really need to do is pee."

Sherlock looked panic stricken for neither of them had thought about how the logistics in that department were going to work. John wheeled over to Sherlock and said, "It's alright, Sherlock, just wheel me to the restroom and help me out of the chair and then I'll tell you when I'm done."

Sherlock blushed and nodded as he replied, "Okay, right."

Sherlock wheeled John into the bathroom with ease and then the dun dun DUUUN moment came, the moment when John needed to be transferred from the chair to the toilet. "Sherlock, it's alright John said as he gave instructions, "Just wheel my chair parallel to the toilet, lift me under my arms and lower me down to the seat, then I will unbutton my pants. After that I'll need you to pull my pants and my…underwear down and then I'll call for you when I'm ready to be put back in the chair."

Sherlock nodded bravely, handed John a towel to throw on his lap for privacy and then at John's signal he slipped John's pants down. When Sherlock's hands reached his upper thigh, John jumped as Sherlock apologized, "I'm sorry my hands are cold."

John forced his mind to stay calm as he replied, "It's okay, you can leave me on my own now."

It seemed like hours later when Sherlock returned, discretely helped John into a pair of pajamas, and finally settled him comfortably in the bed.

"Good-night," Sherlock said as he bent over and kissed John's forehead.

Before John could reply, Sherlock scurried out of the room, leaving John alone. No matter how many sheep John counted, he couldn't get to sleep and was still awake when Sherlock slid in next to him around 3 A.M. "Sherlock?" John asked.

For a moment Sherlock didn't answer and when he did his voice was low and shaky, "John, are you okay? Why can't you sleep?"

John licked his lips and took Sherlock's ice cold one in his own, "Sherlock, just because I'm in a wheelchair doesn't mean that I'm not…well you know…functional. I mean I can have intimate…relations."

Sherlock squeezed John's hand so tight that he almost cried out, "John, I…" Sherlock's voice trailed off as he rolled over on his side to face John.

John reached out and unbuttoned the top two buttons of Sherlock's pajama top, and let his fingers trail across Sherlock's soft skin. Sherlock drew a deep breath and rolled over and began to kiss, John, slowly at first and then the kiss became, deeper, stronger, and desperate. After a few moments, Sherlock drew breathlessly away, looked down at his own body lengthwise, cursed, jumped out of bed and said, "John I'm sorry, I just can't…I love you, but I just…can't…it's me I…", and without another word he left the room leaving John to wonder what he had done wrong.