Anote: I dont have any real timeline for my stories. They tend to hop around as inspiration takes me. But all my stories are set before Reichenbach Fall, which can you believe i have never been able to finish. I would watch a little bit and start bawling like a nine year old girl.

Anyhow, on to our happy conclusion.

Chapter 14- Waiting for you

….continued

'Shall I hail a taxi?' Angelo called out, as Sherlock inexplicably continued to stare down at John's face.

The detective raised his head, startled for a moment as to where and when he was.

'No. A little fresh air will be for the best, I think,' he replied as he shrugged out of his heavy coat and tossed it to the man.

As Sherlock deliberately increased the pressure on the doctor's arm, he absently listened as Angelo explained that John wasn't a good sleeper, and care was needed.

The doctor was getting much better in Sherlock's opinion, only falling out of bed with a shout maybe once or twice a month now. However, the detective never woke John up if it wasn't absolutely necessary. Such an exercise was unnecessarily "exciting" for everyone involved.

Sherlock's muscles were tensed in readiness; poised to prevent his friend from injuring himself or anyone else when he noticed something.

John was still dressed in his clothes from today. Did this mean that he had his gun under his coat?!

There was no time to check as the sleeping man surged to his feet and spun around, startling the others but the detective was ready.

'JOHN!' he shouted, as he clamped surprisingly strong arms around his best mate to stop him from struggling, 'John, it's Sherlock! You are in London. You are safe.'

The doctor's eyes feverishly darted around him, searching for the danger.

'You are safe,' Sherlock kept repeating as he monitored the way the tension seeped out John's body.

'Hi,' the doctor greeted him with a scratchy one hundred year old voice, 'has Lestrade called in?'

Good. John was back in the here and now, and Sherlock loosened his grip accordingly.

'No. No news from Interpol as yet.'

John wobbled a bit on his feet, but was safely held up in his friend's arms.

Sherlock gave him a sociable shake, 'what's a nice fellow like you doing in a place like this?'

This unexpected attempt at humour made John smile weakly, 'Waiting for you, of course.'

Sherlock sniffed in pretend disbelief, 'I bet you say that to any blighter that comes along.'

A real giggle came from John at this point. What on earth were they talking about? His alcohol soaked brain wasn't too sure but he appreciated the sound of Sherlock's soothing voice.

'Nope,' John offered in a slurred voice. 'I can safely say that you are the only person, man or woman, I say that to.'

The startled look on Sherlock's face told him he caught him off guard with that one. The detective squinted at him hard, clearly wondering how drunk he was.

'Just how many drinks HAVE you had?'

'Thanks for coming to get me Sherl.'

The doctor leaned to the side and gave Angelo a weak wave with his fingertips. He didn't normally consume any drugs or copious amounts of alcohol under any circumstance because of his profession, which indicated just how truly devastated he was by the whole business.

'John I am sorry that it didn't work out. Again. You are really quite bad at this. Is there anything you can do? I understand grovelling is a very successful manoeuvre in these instances.'

John smiled up at Sherlock's patient expression, much comforted by this display of support.

'You are a good friend but home is all I need right now. That and a basin because I know I am going to be sick all night. I don't understand why people do this to themselves on a regular basis. Christ, I feel awful!'

Slowly John raised his arms and draped it around his neck, as the detective carefully picked him up. With a grateful sigh that this action didn't prematurely start an attack of vomiting, the smaller man closed his eyes and rested his dizzy head on Sherlock's breast. Angelo then stepped forward and tucked the detective's coat over John so that people wouldn't stare.

'Perhaps a cab would be a good idea,' Sherlock admitted as he shifted the man in his hold into a more comfortable position, 'He's a bit heavier than he looks.'

'I can take him,' Angelo offered, extending his beefy arms.

Sherlock neatly sidestepped around the man, the same time the doctor convulsively tightened his grip across his shoulders.

He wasn't quite ready to give John up to anyone as yet, thank you very much!

'It was a comment not a criticism,' the detective remarked sharply as he stepped strongly towards the door.