Chapter Nineteen

I know the format is a bit confusing at first, but stick with it.

"John!" Molly exclaimed, rushing towards the bed. "John!"

John would not respond.

Molly reached out and shook the doctor's shoulder. "John, wake up!" She looked back at Greg as the inspector hurried up next to her. "What do we do?"

Greg knelt on the edge of the bed. "John!" He raised his hand and slapped at John's face. "John!"

John's eyes shuttered open, and his gaze stared blearily up at them.

"John!" Molly responded, surging closer. "What's wrong?"

"Don't…" John's voice came out in barely a whisper. He took a short breath. "Don't know… Tired…" His eyes began falling shut again.

"Hey, hey!" said Greg, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him. "Stay with us! Does Sherlock know?"

John stared up at him for a moment before his eyes widened as much as they could in his exhausted state. "I… No… I…"

"John?" asked Molly. "What did Sherlock say?"

John's head quickly, yet weakly, began to shake back and forth, his voice a shaky whisper. "I can't feel him… He's gone…"

Molly's eyes shot open in horror as Greg sat back in shock.

Sherlock's voice interrupted him. Wait, so, you went to sleep after visiting me, and then I was just gone?

John sighed from his seat in his quarters. "Sorry. I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me start over."

John stepped into his quarters, heading straight for the bed and taking a seat. "Hey, you okay in there? You've been awful quiet lately."

Go away, Sherlock replied in a soft voice. Too tired.

John smirked. "You and me both." He bent over to untie his shoes.

I remember that, Sherlock spoke up. In fact, it was the last thing I remember.

"I wondered when you had faded off," said John.

Tossing his shoes aside, John collapsed onto the bed, barely having enough strength to pull the blanket over him.

"They found me the next afternoon," said John. "But sometime in the middle there, I woke up."

John's eyes blinked open, and he stared up at the ceiling. He wondered what time it was, but found that he couldn't be bothered to check the clock on the bedside table.

"Damn…" John muttered. "I must not have gotten a lot of sleep." He tried to raise his hand to rub at his eyes, but he was just too tired. "How about you?"

Sherlock didn't respond; there was only the silence of a dark room. And a loneliness, one that he couldn't explain. Why would he be lonely?

"Still sleeping, hmm?" John muttered, giving a yawn. "Sounds great…" He didn't even remember drifting off.

Why did they come looking for you? asked Sherlock.

"According to Molly, I wasn't answering the com calls," John explained.

Molly stepped into the mess hall, finding Greg enjoying an afternoon tea. She stepped over to him. "Have you seen John?"

Greg looked up at her, taking in her drawn brows and thin mouth. "You okay?"

"John was supposed to meet me at Sherlock's quarters after breakfast," Molly explained. "He looked exhausted yesterday, so I figured I'd let him sleep some more, but…" she sighed, wringing her hands in front of her, "I'm worried."

Greg shook his head as he leaned back in his seat. "Haven't seen him. Did you check the rec room?"

"And the engine room and the medical facilities and a dozen other places," said Molly. She raised a hand and wrapped it around the back of her neck. "What if something happened?"

"Hold on," said Greg as he stood, grasping her shoulders. "We still have other options. Don't panic." He walked over to the communication panel on the wall, pressing a button. "Mycroft."

A moment passed before the button lit up once more. "Inspector Lestrade."

"Is John with you?" Greg asked.

"No, he is not," Mycroft responded.

"We can't find him," Molly jumped in. "Something's happened, I know it."

"One moment," Mycroft replied.

Molly huffed in impatience before Mycroft's voice came back over the panel's speaker.

"Dr. Watson, please contact the dining area or my personal quarters."

There was silence as they waited for John to respond to the ship-wide call.

"Dr. Watson, please respond."

Another while of silence before Mycroft spoke again.

"The computer shows him as being located in his quarters."

Molly immediately bolted out the door, so Greg pressed the com button. "Thanks, Mycroft."

Greg charged after Molly, and within five minutes, they had arrived in the residence corridor.

"He could be perfectly fine," Greg reminded her. "Caught up in the violin or an experiment. He disabled his com panel, remember?"

Molly nodded as they reached John's door, and she knocked on it. "John? John, are you in there? John, I need you to answer me!"

There was no response, so Molly slid her hand over the access panel. The doors slid open as the lights sprang on. John lay immobile on the bed, pale and wane as his chest rose in jerks and tiny spasms.

"John!" Molly exclaimed, rushing towards the bed. "John!"

John would not respond.

Molly reached out and shook the doctor's shoulder. "John, wake up!" She looked back at Greg as the inspector hurried up next to her. "What do we do?"

Greg knelt on the edge of the bed. "John!" He raised his hand and slapped at John's face. "John!"

John's eyes shuttered open, and his gaze stared blearily up at them.

"John!" Molly responded, surging closer. "What's wrong?"

"Don't…" John's voice came out in barely a whisper. He took a short breath. "Don't know… Tired…" His eyes began falling shut again.

"Hey, hey!" said Greg, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him. "Stay with us! Does Sherlock know?"

John stared up at him for a moment before his eyes widened as much as they could in his exhausted state. "I… No… I…"

"John?" asked Molly. "What did Sherlock say?"

John's head quickly, yet weakly, began to shake back and forth, his voice a shaky whisper. "I can't feel him… He's gone…"

Molly's eyes shot open in horror as Greg sat back in shock.

"Get Mycroft…" John breathed out.

Greg raced for the com panel at the door as Molly moved further up the bed, grasping John's hand.

"Mycroft, get over here!" Greg practically yelled into the panel. "Something's wrong!"

A tear fell down Molly's face as she gripped John's hand tightly. "Can you pull him back, John?"

John's eyes were struggling to stay open. "I…I can't…"

"Oh, my God!" Molly gasped out in a high-pitched voice, bringing John's hand up to her mouth as the tears fell freely now. "Sherlock…"

Greg moved back to the bed next to Molly. "Stay with us, John."

The door to the room opened, and Mycroft entered, moving to the opposite side of the bed.

Greg had turned his head to look as he entered. "He says Sherlock's gone. What is—"

Mycroft did not look at Greg, only raised his hand for silence as he knelt next to the bed. "John."

John's eyes had fallen nearly closed.

"John," said Mycroft again, grasping John's shoulder.

John's eyelids fluttered and opened.

"John, this is very important," said Mycroft. Once John had turned hazy eyes on him, he continued. "Have you been feeling unusually tired? Has Sherlock started to space out and disappear, especially after he exerts himself, such as pushing his consciousness forward?"

All three of them looked at him in shock before John nodded his head a little.

"Then there's not a moment to lose," said Mycroft as he pulled a pre-filled syringe out of his suit. He yanked the cover off of the needle, grabbed John's arm and jabbed it into a vein below his elbow.

"Wait a minute," said Molly as Mycroft laid John's arm back on the bed. "What was that? What's happening to him?"

"Not to worry," Mycroft told them. "He'll be right as rain in a moment."

John had been fading back into unconsciousness, but at that moment, a flood of life, of Sherlock, rushed through him, setting his mind for a spin. Every detail, every sight, every sound in the room jumped out at him in a single moment, clamoring for attention. John let out a gasp as his back arched up from the bed, his mind exploding with activity.

And then, with a final burst of light and color, Sherlock's presence quieted. John relaxed on the bed, breathing heavily as he looked up at the others, two of which were watching him in alarm. The other, however, was smiling in satisfaction.

John pulled himself up onto his elbows. "What the bloody hell was that?"

"I take it, it worked," stated Mycroft in an almost questioning tone.

John stopped as he assessed himself and discovered, to his relief, the difference between then and now. He looked up at Mycroft. "I can feel him again."

"You can?" asked Molly, her voice filled with hope.

John looked over at her eager smile. "He's unconscious, but, yeah, he's back."

"He'll be asleep until well into tomorrow," Mycroft told them.

John sat up with a frown. "Why? What happened to us? What was that stuff?"

"There are times when, for whatever reason, the return of the katra to Mount Seleya is delayed," Mycroft explained. "Prolonged contact can cause the host's mind to begin to reject it. Usually, it doesn't begin happening for another week, but…" he gave a shrug, "well, Sherlock just has to be Sherlock." He held up the empty syringe. "This serum was devised to strengthen the bond between the katra and its host. Once he wakes up again, everything should be back to normal." He began moving towards the door.

"Thanks, Mycroft," said John.

Mycroft looked back at him with a nod and then left.

"So, we went to check on your body, which was fine, by the way," John explained. "And now, everything's fine."

Did you enjoy the quiet the past day? Sherlock asked him.

John shrugged as his fingers fiddled with the edge of his shirt. "It was a bit…lonely…"

John could practically feel the smug smirk. Admit it, you missed me.

"Missed what? The incessant observations? The lack of control over myself? The constant chatter?"

Oh, it's not that bad.

John laughed as he got to his feet. "No, it's not. Cold case?"

Oh, please.

John nodded and headed out into the corridor, smiling as he thought back to what he had left out of his story.

Molly leaned back in her seat next to Sherlock's bed in the medical bay. She looked over at John. "Feeling better?"

John nodded. "Much. Blimey, I'll tell ya, that serum sure kicks in quick. It was like diving right into Sherlock's brain. Everything was so vivid and active all of a sudden. It was… surreal." He stared down at Sherlock's body with a small frown.

"What is it?" asked Molly.

"It doesn't feel real, does it?" said John, looking back at her. "I mean, here we are, in outer space, with Sherlock's resurrected body right in front of us," he gestured over at the sleeping man, "and it still feels like he's not really here." He looked sadly down at the floor. "That I'll wake up in the morning, and this will all have been a dream and he'll still be dead."

Molly nodded at that and was silent for a moment. "Well, let's be thankful it isn't a dream."

"Yeah…" said John, looking up at Sherlock's body for confirmation, however redundant, that this was real.

"It could've been the other way around," Molly spoke up after a moment. "It could've been you guys lying there instead. Well, not really. You guys aren't Vulcan, so you wouldn't have been in that probe for that energy to revive you—" She stopped herself. "Sorry, I'm rambling again."

John smiled at her. "That's all right. I guess you're right. It could've been us. And that would have been a much worse ending."

"Good thing Sherlock realized how important it was to save you guys," said Molly, looking over at their friend's body.

John frowned before shifting in his seat. "What do you mean, realized?"

Molly looked back at him, shifting in her own seat. "Well, I just find it curious, is all. Knowing that Sherlock was a Vulcan, why would Moriarty threaten people he knew to get him to kill himself? Sure, he's half human, but he's also half Vulcan. He feels little, if any, emotion." She frowned as she looked at Sherlock. "Why would Moriarty think he would sacrifice himself to save his friends?"

John's frown deepened as he listened to what Molly believed Sherlock had gone through on that roof. "So…you think what Sherlock did on the rooftop was because of logic?"

Molly looked back at him. "Well, he's said so himself. Vulcans don't do emotions." She looked back at Sherlock's body, as if that was the end of the conversation.

John looked at Molly and then over at Sherlock, biting his lip as a thought came into his head. He hesitated, knowing Sherlock would get very upset at what he was about to do. Well, it's not like he's conscious right now to hear it.

John leaned forward, placing his elbows onto his legs. "You know, Vulcans used to have emotions."

Molly looked over at him, nodding. "Yeah, he mentioned something about that; they used to have emotions, but they gave them up to better their race."

John nodded, glancing at Sherlock momentarily. "Well, I'm not sure how much he was able to tell you about Vulcan history before he died, but Vulcans used to feel emotions so much deeper than humans ever have. In fact, it almost caused their extinction."

Molly nodded, indicating that she had indeed heard this.

"So, over the years, they learned how to cast it off," John went on. "They evolved, basically. Now, they feel very little emotions, if any at all." He glanced over at his friend's body, hesitating a moment. "Sherlock, on the other hand…is half human, which means he can choose whether to let his human side—his emotions—in. And he chooses to be Vulcan."

Molly's brows drew together in confusion, looking over at Sherlock. "Why?" She looked back at John as she gestured to the bed. "I mean, he told me that sometimes, he would love to feel how everyone else does. Why would he push that away if he had a choice?"

John frowned over at her, his head tilting a little to the side as he realized. "He didn't tell you, did he?"

"Tell me what?"

John rubbed a hand over his lip before dropping it to his lap once more. "When the Vulcan Science Academy commissioned Sherlock for this observation mission, they gave him twenty years in which to do it, at the end of which he was to leave Earth and return home."

Molly's eyes widened as her jaw dropped open a little, clearly shocked at the thought of having to say goodbye to Sherlock forever someday.

"Sherlock chooses to be Vulcan so it will be easier to say goodbye," John went on. "And I think that over the years, those Vulcan walls have… crumbled a bit."

Molly looked up at him, the shock still written all over her face.

"Now, I'm not sure how much he does feel, but…" John looked over at Sherlock, "I believe Sherlock Holmes feels much more than he lets on." He glanced back over at Molly with a smile.

Molly stared at John for a while before looking over at Sherlock's body in a way she hadn't in months.

John smiled as he reached the common room. If he had anything to say about it, he would get the two of them together if it was the last thing he did.

In case any of you were confused, it basically cut back and forth from John telling Sherlock what had happened the past day, to what actually happened.