Despite John's predictions, after two weeks, Sherlock was discharged home.
Sherlock couldn't have been more thrilled, but John was more hesitant. He liked the stability of the hospital, of knowing that a team was always only minutes away, that he could get second opinions, and that someone else was watching over Sherlock when John slept.
But he couldn't deny Sherlock was looking better than he had in weeks that afternoon when they arrived back at the flat. And it wasn't all just from the surgery. A huge part of that was that Sherlock was happy. Emotional well-being was a huge factor in overall health.
So John just made sure to stress the importance of LVAD care, and warned Sherlock repeatedly not to do anything stupid. (He wasn't sure if it sank in the first couple of times.)
Mycroft took care of the rest, and Mrs Hudson was absolutely thrilled to have them home again.
"Oh Sherlock," she called, throwing her arms around him as he stood in the hallway, quite stunned by the sudden show of affection.
"Oh. Hello Mrs Hudson. Perhaps you could let go of me..."
She gasped and backed away. "Did I hurt you?" she squeaked, holding her hands to her mouth.
"Not at all," Sherlock assured her. John expected he was lying. Sherlock's incisions were still tender, and he hadn't managed to figure out how to arrange all the wires so they didn't tug at the healing wounds yet. He was wearing the vest that he'd been given at the hospital to hold the LVAD batteries and controller, even after moaned about it for nearly an hour. He gave in when John pointed out he wouldn't be leaving otherwise. He was still muttering about it under his breath on the ride over before John gave him a look that Sherlock suspected could kill lesser mortals. (Perhaps an experiment?)
Mrs Hudson finished her hovering and wandered back downstairs, only after giving Sherlock another hug, which he tried very hard not to wince during.
Sherlock threw himself on the couch after that, and didn't say anything when John switched him from batteries to the larger power unit that plugged into the wall. He stuck the batteries into the charger and headed into the kitchen to make tea.
Honestly, they had enough spare batteries to last them through a week long black out, which John supposed was the point. Still, the storage was rather problematic, John opening kitchen cupboards looking for tea or glassware, only to find more neat stacks. He was beginning to wonder what the hell Mycroft had done with them.
Sherlock didn't share John's concerns, too busy dissecting one of the many batteries after John had changed him over to the larger unit.
"You're not doing any experiments on yourself," John warned.
"I'm aware," Sherlock muttered, not looking up.
John watched him for a second before returning to the kitchen, shaking his head.
He finally found the tea in the cupboard that previously held the current set of mould experiments. Sherlock was going to be pissed.
John grinned.