Post-Great Game AU in which they blow up the pool and John is hospitalized, severely injured and blinded. First fic I wrote, despite not putting it on here till now. I have written and rewritten and will never be satisfied with it. I forbade myself from going over it again for the hundredth time. So here it is. *headdesk*

Written for this tumblr prompt by valeria2067: Soundtrack to that trope: I dare you to listen to The World In My Eyes by Depeche Mode and NOT see Sherlock giving John a lap-dance and/or dancing sexily with him as they go undercover at a gay nightclub "for a case." *cough! - John in the tight black T-shirt, Sherlock in unbuttoned silk shirt and leather trousers -cough!* Slash.

There are a thousand ways to tell someone you love them, only a few of which are vocal. Making tea for the object of your affection, for instance. Or not complaining about violin music at three AM. Or, of course, taking a bullet for them.

John's face crumples in on itself and the hurt that's been rattling around between his bones suddenly erupts into a painful bloom, and he falls. Sherlock Holmes, even in death, remains the only man capable of bringing John Watson to his knees.