Sherlock's feet were cold. He had been lying in a hospital bed, covered only by a thin gown and a sheet, waiting for Dr. Jessop and the anaesthetist to come in and see him before the operation began. He knew he hadn't been waiting long, but his mind was going into overdrive with every single thought that occurred to him. Like the fact that the NHS should have beds for people who were over five foot ten inches, as his feet were right up against the cold barrier at the bottom, and that was probably adding to the reasons why his feet were cold. The restless nerves had kicked in now, Sherlock didn't want to lie still on the bed – he couldn't seem to make himself comfortable… When he tried to relax, his mind made him think of John– and how they hadn't spoken in a few days; and what if something did go wrong? What if the operation went wrong and he hadn't spoken to John in days? He couldn't bear to think about that… He could ask for John to come to him before the operation, but the way that John had been acting there was no guarantee that John would oblige; and Sherlock certainly didn't want to feel any more anxious than he did already… So in trying to relax, Sherlock ended up thinking about John; and when he closed his eyes to attempt to block out those thoughts, all he could see was Innes.

There was a point when John and Sherlock thought that the kidney transplant was going to have to be done before they were able to tell Innes that it was all going to be alright, because he hadn't woken up in the time that they had been visiting him. He was very week now; his body was on full defensive mode, they could tell that he was having to fight to hold on. Even the dialysis alone was taking it out of him… However, on the Sunday evening they had managed to get the chance to speak to Innes. John had been dozing in the chair next to Innes' bed when they heard a soft cough, and Innes had woken up. John had sprung to life art the sound of Innes coughing: "Innes?"

"Daddy?" Innes' voice was soft and weak; he seemed to be teetering upon the edge of consciousness. "What's going on?"

"It's alright Innes, you're alright." John had said soothingly to him, standing at the edge of the bed. "We're here." It had been the first time that John had indicated notice to the fact that Sherlock was there also.

"I… what…" Innes was struggling to talk; it was taking a lot of effort from him. "Am I still a robot?" He asked, John smiled at him – he knew Innes was referring to the dialysis that was still filtering his blood for him.

"Yes, just for a little while longer." John was holding onto Innes' hand so tightly it looked as though he was gripping him for dear life. "But father is going to help; he's going to make you all better."

"Father?" Innes asked. "How?"

"He's going to give you a bit of himself. Your bit isn't working, but he's going to give you his instead."

"But will father be okay?" Innes' eyes had widened as much as his exhausted body could.

"Yes Innes, he'll be just fine." John was nodding. "And you will be too."

"Okay, good." Innes answered simply. "As long as father is okay too…"

Sherlock stayed back, silent during this interaction; but it had touched him that Innes had been concerned about him than he had been himself. It was a testimony to Innes – a seven year old that cared more about someone else rather than himself… Innes had fallen back unconscious not long after, the small conversation had drained him of the little energy he had had.

And now Sherlock lay, thinking about John and their lack of communication recently; and Innes, who had been so accepting of the situation the moment that it had been presented to him.

John was sitting with Innes – he was still unconscious, but he wouldn't have to be prepped for surgery until after they had taken Sherlock in. John had been dreading this day arriving all weekend, and now it was here it felt like every second was drawn out to the very extreme. His heart had been pounding somewhere in the region of his Adams apple since the moment he had woken up; and when he tried to eat something for breakfast his throat had closed up, preventing him from swallowing. The last time he had felt this nervous it had been on his deployment to Afghanistan…

John wasn't sure if Sherlock realised just how much he actually meant to him. Through all the time he had known Sherlock he had been a steady constant in his constant in his life, normally the only constant. Harry had been around when he left the army, but her drinking had driven John away. He could only think of a handful of times that he had seen her before she had appeared before her death. Then in the period of time after Harry's death when Innes had just been born, Sherlock had been there for John- he had been a solid rock. It was like Sherlock was the foundations upon which John was able to stand. Sherlock enabled John, he was the reason that John was still around. Recently though, it felt like the rock had been destabilizing from underneath John's feet, and he couldn't explain why... They had been able to cope with stress before, they had dealt with Harry's death, with Innes' adoption, with various circumstances which they had found themselves in while raising Innes (including frequent altercation with individuals over the fact a "gay couple" were raising a child). But nothing had ever shaken them like this before. Nothing had made them unstable, until now. Nothing had stopped them from speaking for this long... Maybe Sherlock thought that he was being ungrateful, maybe Sherlock was thought he was going to worry John more. Whatever the case, he couldn't just sit and wait; he couldn't let Sherlock go into this operation without knowing the truth- without knowing how much it meant him, even though that scared him.

Sherlock expected, when the door opened, for it to be the doctor and anaesthetist coming in to prep him for the operation, so he was surprised when it was John that entered the room.

"John? What are you doing here?" He asked in surprise.

"I had to come and see you." He said, rather breathlessly. "I couldn't let you go into this without speaking to you." That felt vaguely ominous to Sherlock.

"Why? Is everything okay with Innes?" Sherlock had suddenly had the horrible thought that John had come to see him because there was something wrong with Innes.

"What? No – no! Nothing like that!" John shook his head emphatically; he had approached the edge of the bed Sherlock was lying in rather cautiously. "I just wanted to see you before the operation…" John's voice had fallen to a low whisper as he stood awkwardly about a foot from the side of Sherlock's bed.

"Are you alright John?" Sherlock asked, although he knew that John wasn't feeling okay at the moment. John made a movement that looked like he had tried to nod and shake his head at the same time. "Come here." Sherlock extended his hand out towards John; John paused for a second and then took Sherlock's hand. This small connection seemed to unbarricade the space between them – especially for John and he moved closer to the side of the bed.

"Thank you for doing this for Innes." John spoke quietly but firmly.

"I'm not doing this just for Innes." Sherlock answered, John looked momentarily confused before Sherlock could explain himself. "I'm doing this for us – for all three of us; our family…" Sherlock squeezed John's hand in comfort. "I know how much I need you and how much I need Innes… I couldn't bear if our family wasn't together. I need the two of you – to keep me right. I don't think you could overestimate or exaggerate how important you have both been, or how much you have both helped me." John was beginning to look as though he had a lump of emotion in his throat; he would be desperate not to get upset this early in the day – as this was going to be a long day for him. "I understand what it means to have you and Innes. I won't treasure anything dearer than our family… and I would do anything for my family."

"Sherlock?" John spoke eventually, and without another word he leant over to where Sherlock was sitting up and kissed him. The kiss was at a slightly awkward angle as it had taken Sherlock by surprise, but it was gentle all the same. It wasn't like their firey, passion filled kisses, but tender, caring – loving. Sherlock relaxed after a second, when he realised what was going on – allowing John to cup his face with his hands. All the unspoken words, the arguments left unsaid, the silence and the distance between them felt like they were being resolved through this kiss. "I love you Sherlock." Whispered when he drew back. "I really do love you; thank you for being with me, and putting up with me."

"I certainly don't put up with you." Sherlock responded. "I love you too." John smiled weakly, and Sherlock felt some of the tangled nervousness inside him uncoiling.

At this moment they were interrupted, the door of Sherlock's room opened and in walked Dr. Jessop, and who Sherlock presumed was his anaesthetist.

"Sorry to interrupt," Dr. Jessop said, although he didn't sound very sorry. "We're just about to take Mr. Holmes up to pre-op." He explained.

"Alright," Sherlock agreed, his grip on John's hand loosening in preparation for being taken away.

"I'll be when you get out." John told Sherlock.

"I know." Sherlock nodded.

"You be careful, I want to see you back in one piece."

"With a little bit missing." Sherlock laughed and was relieved to see John was smiling too.

A/N: As always, I'd love to know what you think of this chapter/story so far!