Ripple

By: Raven612

Chapter 12: To Build Anew

Summary: John is recovering and the details are worked out, a bit, and a worried Harry.

A/N: I suppose you've all waited long enough for this next installment. I shall not keep you any longer. Read and drop me a nice little review!

*Mid Afternoon of Day 8 of Hell*

Sherlock paced the interior of John's room.

John had been taken earlier that morning for reconstructive surgery on his shoulder. Sherlock was a bit nervous to let him go, but on the behest of his brother, Sherlock stood back as they wheeled John out of the room. He frowned as he watched the man go and went to his chair to sit and wait.

Sherlock had grown sick of sitting and was pacing when Harry found him.

"Sherlock!" she said, startled, and then regained her composure as she walked fully into the room and looked around.

Sherlock turned to face her. He'd been preparing for this. He knew Lestrade had called her and her wife to inform them of what happened with the twins and Moriarty. He sighed and widened his stance waiting for the abuse Harry was sure to give him. He squared his shoulders and met her gaze.

Harry only stared at him before opening her mouth, "Where is he? Where's John?" she asked coming to stand a few feet from Sherlock.

Sherlock raised a brow and looked to where the empty bed was, "They took him to surgery. His bones were shattered by the bullet and his previous scar tissue has been dislodged. They need to clean out the scar tissue as it could find its way to his heart and they need to reconstruct his shoulder. He's been gone for seven hours now."

Harry nodded and set her purse on the small counter next to the door that led to the loo. She sighed, and Sherlock noticed just how weary she looked. He took a step to the side, "You should sit down Harry, he should be back soon," he told her and motioned to his chair which she accepted thankfully.

She rubbed a hand over her face; it was a hell of a time being sober now. She brushed her hair from her eyes and turned to face Sherlock, "I know you're expecting me to blow up and accuse you of putting the twins in danger, and I am bloody pissed at you, but you also saved them. You saved their lives and you saved John's. I guess my gratitude for that outweighs all of the shit I'd like to be screaming at you right now." Harry falls silent then as she stares at the bed.

Sherlock sees her emotions flashing in her eyes. He sees her hands tighten against the arm rests. She is nervous, and is thinking of the first time John was shot. Sherlock sees her swallow thickly. He frowns, "John is going to be okay. He's not in the desert," he tells her, because it is true. John is okay, well for the most part anyways.

Harry nods curtly, "The twins wanted to come and see him, but I knew he probably couldn't handle the excitement they would be sure to bring along," Harry gives a dry laugh then and slouches in her chair, "they're as resilient as ever. Apart from James being extra sensitive and more cautious now, you wouldn't know they'd been kidnapped and held at gunpoint," Harry sighed and turned to look at Sherlock.

Sherlock nodded curtly, "They are remarkable," he was surprised that he didn't have to necessarily force the word out as it pertained to the two hellions.

Harry snorted, "I should have recorded that. I doubt you'll ever refer to them in that way again," Harry said with a quick smirk.

Sherlock's lips flashed into quick grin and he nodded. He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked a bit on his heels, "I am…sorry for what happened," he told her after a long beat of silence.

Harry nodded, "He's gone now, or so I've been told, so…there's nothing to be sorry for," she replied with a simple shrug and looked at him.

Sherlock nodded. The only thing he regretted was not putting the bullet in Moriarty's brain himself, but that paled in comparison to having John alive.

"This is different than last time," Harry sighed as her gaze went to John's empty bed.

Sherlock didn't say anything in response.

"Last time they only phoned mum and I. They told us John had been shot, and as of right then, they didn't know if he'd make it. I'd never seen my mum so broken, not even when she was sick. I remember she collapsed to the floor. I had no idea what was wrong, but I figured it was John and something had happened. We couldn't go to him, and we didn't get to see him for two more months when they finally deemed him fit to be packaged up, and sent back home. I was in a sorry state at the time from mum's death, and fighting with Clara…I couldn't bring myself to greet him at the airport. I didn't screw up the courage to go and see him until three weeks later when I gave him my old phone. He was so broken…I wasn't sure how long I'd have my brother." Harry talked quietly, almost as if to herself, and her fingers turned and fumbled in her lap.

Sherlock's face had paled while Harry spoke. He looked out the window. He hated hearing about John like that. Somehow the picture didn't seem to fit with his John now. Sherlock didn't want to imagine the ghost of John Watson so many years ago. He shivered, "It's not like that now. He will be okay, and he will be happy," he said finally.

Harry turned to face him. Her eyes shone with tears, but none fell, "I know, he's got you. You're the best thing to have happened to him Sherlock, no matter what that silly brain of yours might think sometimes," she told him honestly.

Sherlock smirked quickly. Harry was much more reasonable when sober, and Sherlock found that he rather enjoyed it because it reminded him of John, "I'm the lucky one," Sherlock argued and his eyes slowly drifted to the empty bed.

Harry only nodded, not in the mood to argue. She crossed her legs and settled in to wait for her brother to get done in surgery.

Sherlock had just made his three hundredth circuit around the room when a doctor knocked on the door. Sherlock's head snapped up, and Harry got to her feet. Both of them were upon the doctor in an instant. He blinks, startled, but smiles calmly.

"Harriet Watson and Sherlock Holmes I presume?" he says to fill the space and to get them to give him some room.

Both nod.

The doctor nods as well and pulls up a clipboard, "Doctor Watson did remarkable in surgery. We didn't lose him once, came close, but with some skilled fingers and quick thinking, all crises were avoided. He's got a few plates and screws now, however, in place of some bone that has been forever lost. Apart from a few bumps, his shoulder should be as good as new in a few months, depending on physical therapy. He's in recovery now and should be back here in about two hours, any questions?"

Sherlock let the breath out of his nose and shook his head. He knew all he needed to know, John was alive and he'd see him again in two hours.

"I don't expect him to become fully conscious until late tomorrow, but that depends entirely on him and how his body processes everything," the doctor added as a quick afterthought before saying goodbye and leaving the room.

Sherlock nodded and watched the doctor leave. Sherlock had been ordered to see Lestrade about the previous day's events after hearing news from the doctor, but there was no way Sherlock would leave now. He took out his phone and messaged Lestrade saying that if he wanted his report completed; then he could bloody well come to the hospital and talk.

Harry sighed and sank back into the chair, she gave a wry smile, "Somehow I just can't believe it, but he really is going to be okay, maybe a bit worse for wear, but okay," she muttered and pulled out her phone to call her wife and let her know the news and to pass it on to the others.

Two hours later, as promised, John Watson was returned to his bed. He had thick bandages wrapped around his left shoulder and arm to hold everything securely in place. There were various tubes and wires coming out from under the blankets, that for one second, Sherlock thought he was the bionic man. A quick grin flashed with the thought. He was standing on one side while Harry was on the other. As soon as the nurses had John situated in the bed, Harry rested her hands on the rail of his left side.

"Hey John, it's me. I've come to see you this time. We're all glad the surgery went well. You should be out of here in a few weeks, granted everything goes smoothly," she whispered to him and lifted a tentative hand to brush through his blonde hair.

Sherlock watched silently, allowing the brother and sister to have a moment. He'd talk to John while he was alone. He was on John's right side and so he was able to grab his good hand. Sherlock gingerly cradled it in the palm of his hand as he stood there listening to Harry talk to him. He only half heard the things she was saying before her increase in volume startled him out of his thoughts. He looked up.

Harry smiled softly, "I'm going to help Julie with the kids. They're getting restless and Mrs. Hudson needs some rest. Please tell me as soon as he wakes up," Harry pleaded as she looked across to him.

Sherlock nodded, "Of course, give my best to everyone," he told her.

Harry smiled, "Of course, let me know if anything happens," she told him once more before turning and leaving the room just as the DI was entering.

Sherlock rolled his eyes as he saw the man, "I didn't think you'd really come," he commented as he moved around the bed to collect the chair from John's left side. He went back to the right side where he could hold John's hand.

Lestrade scoffed and shoved his hands into his pockets, "I was concerned for the doctor, and I know that if I don't come now to talk to you I never will. I just need your side of the story so I can make up my report," he sighed and moved closer to the side of John's bed. He frowned as he looked down at the doctor.

Lestrade liked John. He was a good bloke and a trustworthy mate, and he kept Sherlock mostly inline these days. He appreciated the man a great deal for everything that had to put up with and get through with Sherlock. God knows he's a strong man in order to deal with the 'high-functioning sociopath.'

Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. He knew exactly what Lestrade was thinking, "You came for my story, well here it is," Sherlock told him to pull his attention from John. Sherlock related the events from his point of view for the next half hour and Lestrade scribbled down notes.

After Sherlock had finished, Lestrade looked up with a grin, "Bet it rubs you wrong that Anderson shot him," he stated as he pocketed his small notepad.

Sherlock glared and stroked his thumb over John's knuckles, "I don't care. I only care that John and the hellions are safe," he replied in a tight voice, his eyes never leaving John's face.

Lestrade didn't heed the warning in Sherlock's tone, "It bloody surprised me when he reached over for Donovan's gun. I never thought the man had it in him, but he did. He was still as a statue, but as soon as Donovan opened that door and he saw Moriarty with his gun against Anna's head," Lestrade cringed before continuing, "it was like something shifted in him. In an instant he had Donovan's gun and had shot before I could order him not to."

Sherlock nodded. He wondered what about the situation might have triggered such a response, and then he remembered a case a few years back, the one where Anderson and Sherlock's abrasive relationship was solidified, if you could call it that. They'd been mixed up in a hostage situation, completely on accident while at a crime scene. A father, in a drunken rage, had taken his daughter hostage and was stumbling all around the street yelling at anyone who would listen. Lestrade had ordered his men down, lest the girl be injured, but Anderson had argued. He tried to rescue the girl, but the father saw him as a threat and had ended up shooting her. Only a few months later Anderson's marriage started to fail, and from the state of Donovan's knees, it was still continuing to fail.

"My…t-thanks go out to him then," Sherlock had to force the words out, but it was true. He did have Anderson to thank for everything, as much as he loathed the thought.

Lestrade nodded, "I'll let him know, he sends his best to the kids and John," Lestrade replied as he relaxed into a civilian stance, "How is the doctor?"

Sherlock looked up to John's sleeping face and smiled, "He'll be right as rain in a few months. His shoulder may not function the same as it once has, but I could care less. He is alive. That is all I care about."

Lestrade nodded. It was still a bit odd to think of John and Sherlock as a couple. They had been living together for nearly four years now and had been…together for the last year and a half. John had been through countless relationships before finally telling Sherlock how he felt. They hadn't come out to anyone, but it was evident; the slight shift that had occurred. Everyone noticed it, but everyone was smart enough to not comment on it.

"Good, he's a good man Sherlock, and he's lucky you got him out of there in time," Lestrade said with a nod, "I'll come by when John is awake and able to have more visitors. Give him my best and the yard's best when he wakes up. Take care of yourself Sherlock," Lestrade admonished with s small smirk. He and Sherlock had been…friends for the last four years and the five years before that…Lestrade didn't know what he'd call them.

Sherlock nodded thankfully, "Thank you Lestrade," he said in a rare moment of thankfulness.

Lestrade nodded, "Right, well I'll be off," he tipped his head quickly and exited the room.

Sherlock watched him go before resuming his chair at John's bedside. He gingerly picked up John's hand and just held it. He needed to fell John, and know, just know that he was alive. Sherlock couldn't live without John. It was selfish, but he needed the doctor so much more than anyone else, or that's what he thought in his mind, and it was probably true. John had taught Sherlock more than Sherlock could ever hope to teach John or even pay him back for.

As Sherlock sat there at John's bedside, just watching him, and occasionally talking to him, an idea struck him. A slow smile curved on his face; he couldn't wait for John Watson to wake up so that he could present it.

He rose to his feet and leaned over John, "John, I love you, just…please always know that," he whispered and pressed a kiss against John's lips.

A/N: Look at that, finally nothing evil! The chapters to follow shall be full of cute! I need to rectify my evilness, and the evil that is to follow in a new story I am working on. Please review and let me know what you think! I love reviews! You all rock so much!