A/N:

I've had some comments about John attempting suicide again so soon, so I felt I should explain for any readers who are fortunate enough not to have had experience with mental health issues.

John is currently in crisis. A mental health crisis is not something that goes away over night. Though certain activities may distract you for a while, you ultimately come back to the feelings causing the crisis.

Very few people can come out of this on their own and it is a very dangerous time. If you need any advice on these issues the MIND website is a great starting place.

Chapter 12

Sherlock sat in the small side room in ITU watching the monitors as John lay unconscious and pale in the bed next to him. The doctors had managed to revive John and had successfully removed the ventilator about an hour ago. As he sat there, Sherlock was trying to formulate some kind of plan to help John. Obviously, the distraction of cases alone was not helping to pull John out of crisis.

He was brought out of his reverie when the door opened and Greg Lestrade entered the room carrying a large manila envelope. "How is he?"

"We won't know for sure until he wakes up. The doctors say that he almost didn't make it and they can't be sure about the possibility of brain damage until he's awake. He really did a good job on himself, but I wouldn't expect anything less from a doctor of John's calibre."

"Mycroft asked me to give you this." Greg passed him the envelope. "He said that he was intending on bringing it to the flat in the next few days anyway. It's John's military file. That's how he knew to fast-track the medical notes."

"The doctors only just got the message in time. They were about to start a blood transfusion – they tell me that in his weakened state it would've killed him and that it nearly did in Afghanistan after he was shot."

"Shit! I guess John definitely knew what he was doing. When you said he was suffering with PTSD, I never guessed it was this bad."

"Have you read this?"

"God no! You told me that it was up to John to tell me – I respect that."

"When I texted you last week, I had found him in his room with his gun to his head about to pull the trigger."

"Jesus Christ! Is he getting any help? I mean, the army, they look after their own, don't they?"

"He has a therapist, but I know he doesn't talk to her, he doesn't trust her, possibly because he was referred by the MOD. I don't know how to help him with this. I thought that the Work might help him like it helped me, but it's not enough."

Mycroft seems to think that there is something in that file that will help."

"I hope so, Lestrade. He's my friend. I don't want to lose him when I've only just found him."

Greg gave Sherlock's shoulder a squeeze. "Call me if you need me." Sherlock nodded and Greg left with a promise to stop by the next day.

Sherlock opened the file Mycroft had sent. He felt like he was invading John's privacy, reading his military file, while he was powerless to stop him, but he stamped that feeling down, knowing that if Mycroft thought it would be helpful that it was imperative that he digest the information contained within the file

/

The first thing John became aware of as he began to surface from the darkness was the pain in his chest. It felt like he had been hit repeatedly and that someone was still sitting on him. His first instinct was to allow himself to sink back into the darkness away from the pain, which he knew would only increase the closer he got to full consciousness. Then, he heard voices and curiosity sparked within him, overriding the pain.

Logically, he knew he was in hospital and that the voices would most likely be discussing his medical state. He found that he wanted to listen.

"Dr. Watson's blood pressure is steadily improving and his HB levels had increased to 5 at the last blood test. We would expect him to come around soon."

"What if he doesn't?" John identified the speaker as Sherlock and felt a stab of guilt at the pain and worry in his friend's voice. He must've found him. John was aware that it couldn't have been a pretty sight.

The doctor continued, "Well, there's certainly no need to worry just yet. If he doesn't regain consciousness in the next 24 hours, we will look at running tests to determine the levels of brain activity, but I am sure that that won't be necessary."

John let himself drift away from the conversation. He didn't want to wake up. Waking up meant facing life again and answering questions he didn't want to hear. The choice was taken from him, however, as a painful cough wracked his battered chest.

"John?" Sherlock enquired, instinctively grasping his friend's hand. John tried to reply, but only managed a groan, his eyes fluttering. "It's OK, John." Sherlock reassured him.

"'M sorry." John croaked, his throat was dry and raw from being intubated. He groaned again.

The doctor had been checking his vital signs on the monitors, but now turned to John himself. "Don't try to speak just yet, Dr. Watson, you're still very weak. I'm just going to shine a light in your eyes to check your responses." John winced as the bright light invaded his vision making his head pound. "OK, that all seems normal. Do you think you could manage some sips of water?" John nodded, a drink sounded wonderful. He closed his eyes as the cool water soothed his raw throat. The doctor took his leave, indicating that he would be back later in the day.

John sighed as he relaxed back into the uncomfortable hospital bed. He noticed that his wrists were bandaged and he was hooked up to IV saline.

"'M sorry, Sh'lock." He croaked again.

"John, we'll have a serious talk about all of this when you're feeling stronger. For now all you need to know is that I'm not angry and I'm going to help you, OK?"

John nodded. He was exhausted and in pain, so was happy to let sleep claim him again.

Sherlock watched his friend drift off to sleep. He now knew why Mycroft had sent him John's military file. The report on the bombing of the clinic was certainly much more detailed and conclusive than John believed, but more importantly, it officially absolved him of any blame. He just wasn't sure how to use this information to help John, or even if it would.