John's recovery was very quick, compared to what it should have been. A week after that particular scenario, with the nurse, and John could be discharged from the hospital. Everyone had seen the progression he had made. Although he still felt a lot of pain in his leg, when there should have been none or hardly any there. Sherlock was told it was psychosomatic, and sighed. However, nonetheless, he remained calm as John used a walking stick to travel.

The day, Sherlock was going to take John to his home, Sherlock rang Mrs Hudson. She seemed delighted and excited. Mrs Hudson also went out to buy food and clothes for John. However she did repeat her repetitive sentence, "Just this once Sherlock, I'm your landlady, not your housekeeper."

Sherlock walked, whilst John limped out of the hospital, with a cast holding his arm. Mycroft's black car pulled up.

"I can just get a cab." Sherlock complained, but still got in. John looked around in awe, as if he had never been in a car before. He looked towards the buttons and looked as if he just wanted to touch them. A smile formed on Sherlock's face and he nodded. John grinned happily and pressed the button to lower the windows. He stuck his head out and laughed. Sherlock laughed with him.

Eventually they reached Baker street and came out of the car. The door to the house, opened before Sherlock could even speak.

"Aww Sherlock." Mrs Hudson threw her arms around him. Then she looked at the younger figure. "And you must be John. I'm Mrs Hudson." She looked him up and down. "It's a good thing I bought a lot of food." She wondered inside and both men followed.

They got up to 221B, when Mrs Hudson spoke again,

"I best leave you to it, I'll be up sooner or later. You best take care of him." Sherlock smiled at her, as she walked away. He opened the door and they walked in.

"This is my flat...well ours now."

John looked around in wonder. The sight that beheld him was incredible he thought. More then one chair, books everywhere, a creature...with headphones on? John laughed at this, but then caught sight of the skull.

"You-you didn't...you have-haven't..." He trailed off, gesturing to the skull.

"What? No. Friend of mine...well I say friend..." Sherlock smiled, "Now I think we should show you to your room."

John's eyes widened, but still followed Sherlock.

They entered a large room. Sherlock smiled and had to remind himself to thank Mrs Hudson for clearing up...well lets just the mess. She had even bought a new duvet and pillow set.

"So this is where you will be sleeping. I'll be just next door if you need anything, during the night." John looked confused,

"I get to sleep on-on the, well, the bed?"

"Yes of course, where else..." Sherlock was about to continue, but the small figure had glued himself to Sherlock by hugging him. At first Sherlock was uncomfortable, but then melted into the embrace, trying not to hurt John's shoulder any more. He then heard sobbing.

"Hey, it's okay."

"Thank you." A voice replied. A tear nearly escaped his eyes. His voice was so vulnerable, so exposed, so...broken.

"I promise you, you won't have to live like that again ever."

"But...why?"

Sherlock was stunned at this.

"Because human being's don't live like that...shouldn't live like that."

John looked up at Sherlock,

"What about me?"

"What about you?"

"I don't...shouldn't..."

"John Hamish Watson..." Sherlock remembered the nurses telling him John's full name. "...or should I say John Hamish Holmes. You are a human being, and even murderers in prisons get a bed. So, by all means, shouldn't you get one, especially if you have done nothing wrong?"

John nodded and Sherlock wiped John's tears away.

"We should get you food, after all you have spent a week eating hospital meals."

John laughed and followed Sherlock back downstairs.

A/N: Sorry if this is a bit of a late update, unfortunately real life got in the way. Thank you for reading! :)