This is a very short chapter (again sorry) but I thought that I would publish it to see if you liked it! THANK YOU for all the amazing reviews I have received and please keep telling me what you think of this!

Enjoy!

I always have...

It haunted Sherlock's dreams that night. Those three words. They circled round his head in a never ending merry-go-round of mist. But what did they mean? Those three words that could mean nothing yet everything at the same time. Those three words that Sherlock hoped were true, and dreaded that they weren't.

Hamish was fine now. Of course, his injuries were impressive: one huge jagged scar that stretched from one shoulder to another, a brain bleed that would heal, multiple bruises on his back- but he was safe now, lying in the hospital bed beside his father. He hadn't spoken yet and it would be a long time till he did. A very long time. But he was safe and dry, the hospital was being watched by Mycroft s men and the doctors said he should make a full recovery. Should.

The night was long, and it seemed longer when Sherlock was constantly on the verge of sleep. He sat in a chair by his bed, but was otherwise alone in the room. John had gone to get coffee and Lestrade had had to go back to work. Hamish was asleep, hooked up to many machines, but he looked peaceful. For some reason Sherlock took a photo of his injured son, lying peacefully in his bed. Maybe it was because when he slept, it reminded him of his wife, who was probably sleeping in a similar position now.

John walked in holding two cups of steaming coffee. Sherlock was awake and muttered under his breath.

"I always have..." Before he turned to John. "What does it mean?"

"Nothing. Just something that I said. It doesn't matter." Said John, quietly.

"It matters to me, John, please tell me."

"I don't think I should."

"John?" Said Sherlock, almost whispering.

"Yes, Sherlock?"

"A long time ago, the day we met, I said something, do you remember what I said?"

"You said a lot of things, Sherlock."

"But one thing I said has changed now, do you know what that is?" In answer John shook his head. "But, that doesn't matter now I guess."

John was confused now. "So what was the point in you saying that?"

"There is a point for everything, my dear Watson. I just want to know one thing, one thing, and you have to give me a straight answer."

"Ummm... Ok, what?"

"How much do you love me?"

There was silence for a while. To Sherlock it seemed that you could cut the air with a knife. The darkness around the men seemed to get darker and thicker like ink the more time passed.

"Quite a bloody lot." Said a small voice, John's, after a while. "Too much, sometimes."

Now it was Sherlock s turn to stay silent. He had no idea what to say. This is what he had wanted, wasn't it? But what could he say? I love you too? No. Instead he just said very quietly;

"Ok."

Because that, at this very moment, seemed to be the only thing good enough to say.

Sorry it was short and probably sounds rushed but please tell me if you liked it! Thank you for reading!