Sherlock stared as John shifted in his bed, and rolled over to face Sherlock.
"Sh-Sherlock," He said slowly, as if he was unsure. His pronunciation was a bit off, it sounded more like, "Sherl-ock", but nonetheless, Sherlock smiled.
John. He signed, You're an idiot.
John rolled his eyes, Shut up. You're alive, aren't you?
Sherlock paused, then nodded, but you've been shot in the stomach.
And you've broke your ribs.
John gave him the older-brother look as if to say, "I am right, you are wrong, deal with it," and Sherlock smiled shyly.
What happened? John asked. After I passed out.
I passed out shortly after you, but I saw Mycroft beat the shit out of him.
A noise escaped John, something Sherlock had never heard before, then he realised. John had laughed.
Sherlock sat up sharply, eyes drilling into John.
What? John signed.
You laughed. Sherlock signed. John's eyes widened.
I did?
Sherlock nodded in amazement.
What's my laugh like? John asked.
It's…quite nice actually. Sherlock admitted. John smiled.
I don't like hospitals. John signed suddenly. Sherlock settled back down onto his bed, twisting slightly in pain.
Me too. He agreed.
Nothing more was signed between the boys. They just lay there, appreciating each others company, and for that moment, that was all they needed.
A/N: Aww :D John laughed! (BTW, it is possible for people who are deaf to talk, in case anyone was wondering).
Love you all so dearly.