-Sherlock-

The detective set down his violin as he hears his mobile pinging from within his dress robe, pulling it out with a flourish. He scowls at the text he reads there. It was from John.

We're having company. Get rid of any bloody body parts you have lying around. -JW

The detective glanced up at the kitchen, sure enough there were several severed fingers in varying stages of decomposition scattered about, along with a beaker of blood he was running some tests on.

Scowling, Sherlock speedily typed out a reply.

I can't just throw them out, I'm at an important stage in the experiment. -SH

The detective picked up his violin and began playing once more when he was again interrupted by a ping from his phone. He paused before reading the text, his mind elsewhere. Who would be coming over? Oh of course, miss Skylar. If it were anyone else coming over John wouldn't have cared if they saw disembodied limbs lying about, the only people who usually visited had seen it all before. And John never brought his dates back to 221B if he could help it. Just as well it was just past eight in the morning, John wouldn't be on a date seeing as he spent the previous night at the hospital.

He returned his focus to the new text he had just received.

Throw them out, they've started to smell. Open up a window. -JW

The detective sat perched atop his chair as he replied.

Is she even cleared to leave the hospital, John? I was under the impression that she had extensive injuries that required intensive care. -SH

I am a doctor, you know. She's going to be staying with us for a while until she gets better. So throw out whatever you've got in the kitchen and put on some clothes. -JW

Im wearing clothes. -SH

You can't blame me for making sure. You went to bloody Buckingham Palace in nothing but a sheet if I remember correctly. -JW

Sherlock cracked a crooked grin at the memory. That had been years ago now, but he could remember it as if it were yesterday. It was a fond memory that he found himself ruminating on from time to time, back before everything went wrong. His grin slipped away, and he shoved those painful memories of three years on the run, posing as strangers with names different from his own in the back of his mind, locked away in a dark corner of his mind palace.

Both of the rooms in 221B are taken, John. -SH

She can have mine. I'll sleep on the sofa. It's not permanent, Sherlock. Just until she gets better. -JW

And how long until then? -SH

There was no reply for several minutes. Sherlock sat perched on the top of his chair, arms resting on his knees and hands pressed together in front of his face. He soon became lost in his mind palace, sorting through information and going over facts and figures, and didn't notice when his phone pinged with another message from John.

I don't know. -JW

-Skylar-

"I'm coming to stay with you?"

After John had left he had apparently gone to find the doctor I had seen earlier, and had asked him about my being released from the hospital. He had only just come back to tell me I could leave that same day, and had told me I was going to be staying with him at his flat.

"Yes, that's partly why you're being released so soon. I'm a doctor too, so I can get you out of here and take care of you myself." he blushed slightly, glancing down at his shoes. "If...if you'd like that, I mean..."

"You're a doctor?" I asked, accidentally ignoring his offer with my overruling curiosity.

"I was an army doctor in Afghanistan."

"Oh..." that was not what I was expecting, but I wasn't surprised. It explained a lot.

Another awkward silence fell between us as we both tried to find out what to say. Eventually he cleared his throat.

"So...is that what you want? To come stay with me, get out of here, let me take care of you? Or would...you rather stay here...?"

"No. I mean, yes, I would like to get out of here. That would be nice, I mean. Thank you."

His face lit up in a smile that made my stomach flip. I returned his smile affectionately.

"Would you like to leave now? I could call for a cab."

"Yes, let's go now. I need to get out of here."

"Right. Okay. Here..." he started unhooking several of the monitors, his fingers ghosting over my skin as he carefully peeled them off. I bit my lip when he removed the IV from my arm, turning away as I felt the needle slip out of my flesh. I didn't want to see it for fear that I would throw up.

"You okay?" John asked, his eyes full of concern.

I swallowed. "Needles."

"Sorry about that, I didn't know." he berated himself.

"No you're all right, they just make me feel sick is all."

He turned off several of the monitors, and as soon as he was done he turned to face me. "You ready?"

Slowly I sat up, John placing a steady hand on my arm. I carefully swung my legs over the side of the bed, realizing something as I did so.

"Erm...John..."

"What is it?"

I looked up at him through my lashes, trying to hide the blush that was creeping up over my cheekbones. "I'm in a hospital gown. I can't go out like this." I was suddenly very aware of my bare back showing through the slit in the back of the gown.

He blushed. "Oh. Right. I'll just, erm, I'll be right back."

He soon returned with a plain pair of scrubs, folded neatly. "The clothes we found you in were thrown out, so these will have to do for now, I hope that's all right..." he handed them to me, not looking me in the eye. He stood there for a moment longer, glancing up at my eyes occasionally, nervously.

"Erm, John?"

"Hm?"

"Could you possibly...step out for a moment?"

"Oh! Right, of course. Right. I'll just, erm, be out here."

"Thanks."

"You don't need any help...?"

I blushed. "I'll manage..."

"Right." he ducked out if the room, leaving me alone to get dressed. I winced as the fabric scraped against my tender and bruised skin. I wobbled slightly as I stood, but I was able to keep my balance. I shivered as the cold floor leeched the warmth out of my bare feet. That was another thing I was lacking; shoes. Shuffling around a bit through the drawers in the room I found a scratchy pair of hospital socks. It was better than nothing. After slipping them on I opened the door to find John waiting anxiously outside. He turned around, appraising my new attire quickly and giving me a small smile.

"Ready?" he offered me his arm and I gripped it gratefully, as I was still a bit unsteady on my feet. I only smiled as he led me down the hospital corridors, past several onlookers who smiled at us as we passed. He led me out the door and helped me into a waiting cab.

"221B Baker street, please." And the cab sped off taking us through the winding streets of London. I stared out the window in wonder, taking in the unfamiliar sights of the bustling city. I barely noticed John staring intently at me for the duration of the ride.

"Here we are." the cabbie remarked cheerfully.

"Right, hang on." John got out and came around to open my door, helping me to stand. I winced as the movement jostled my injured body. I was soon distracted by a large door reading "221B" in front of me. John paid the cabbie, then walked ahead of me to open the door.

"This is us." he smiled as I stepped inside.