Sherlock felt numb in his hospital bed. John was there and so was his father. Of course, the doctor had called him; he was, after all, family. Oh well, Lestrade would settle it with John.

He was thinking about Mary. Why would she shoot John's best friend? He knew why, intellectually. She didn't want John to know the truth about her. It baffled him. How would a friend do that? Maybe she wasn't his friend.

He looked at John. John looked like shite in the early evening glow of the streetlights outside. It was already nightfall and Greg had left to see the twins.

"Is it Friday?"

"Yes," John said. "Why?"

Sherlock shrugged. "It's my day to pick up the twins."

John smiled. "Oh, Sherlock, you're a softy."

"I'm not soft." He looked at John fully baffled

"Oh, right. You're kind."

He did not reply. He realised that Greg had told John about his diagnosis. "Lestrade has a big mouth," he said.

John looked at him. "Why do you call him that?"

"Why not?" The heart monitor bleeped once, indicating a rising heart rate. Sherlock felt sick; he usually was good at recognising and reading the underlying meaning of words but today it was eluding him. "That's his name. What do you expect me to call him? Dad? Father? Some useless name like that?"

John just gave him an eye roll.

Sherlock could feel his bed was scratching even if the bedding was from Baker Street. His senses were plotting against him. The room was noisy. He could hear the buzzing lights. "Can you turn the lights off, John? They're buzzing."

John looked at him, concern evident on his face. "What? I'll call a nurse."

"No," said Sherlock, looking at John with embarrassment.

"Sherlock, I need to call a doctor because you're hallucinating."

"No, I am not hallucinating. John, it's buzzing. I can hear it." His throat was hurting. He hadn't registered the pain while he was talking to John until now. He was doped up on pain medications.

"Well, I can't hear it. I am calling a nurse."

Sherlock looked at John like he was an idiot. "I have AUTISM. My senses aren't right."

—

Greg's phone buzzed while he was putting the twins to sleep. He usually didn't put the girls to bed but, as today his son was in ICU, he wanted to snuggle with them. The text was from John Watson. 'Sherlock had an episode earlier.'

'I'll call you later.' He frowned and texted him worriedly.

He was watching the nightly news when his phone rang. "Hello John."

'Sherlock had an episode tonight. We, I mean the doctors, had to sedate him."

"What?"

"He was hallucinating, Greg. He told me he was hearing the light flickering and told me that he wasn't hallucinating."

"No," Greg said and sighed. "Sherlock is both half out with medications and there are a lot of things that could induce a sensory storm for him in there."

"But he doesn't have sensory issues."

"Yes, he does. He has Autism. That's what ASD is all about and also the communication. There's someone calling me. It might be his mother calling. I'll call you, John."

"Okay," John said, as Greg hung up and answered the next call.

"Hi, Violet."

"Where's Will, Greg?" Violet said, voice sounding worried.

"Kings College Hospital, why?"

"Out of surgery?"

"Yes, John Watson's with him. You could come visit him in the morning, Vi," Greg told her.

"What's his prognosis, Greg?"

"He'll make a full recovery according to his doctors," Greg said, drinking the beer that was in the glass that he had put on the table.

"Okay. See you tomorrow, Greg."

"Bye." He hung up the phone. Greg sat there in his living room worrying about Mary Morstan. He called Mycroft. "Hello, Mycroft?"

"Yes."

"Do you have any leads on Mary?"

"She left the country, Greg."

"How?"

"She left from Heathrow Airport to Morocco. Can I ask? How's my brother?"

"He's doing alright. He woke up and is having a lot of sensory issues."

"Greg, do you think he would like to stay at your place? After he's discharged I mean."

"Yes. He's always welcome here, Mycroft. It's his home," Greg said, yawning. "I've got to go. Update me, alright."

"Yes, I will. Bye."

Greg went to fix Sherlock's old room. There were still the trophies from karate and a black belt hanging on Sherlock's dresser, Sherlock's old Roland Keyboard in the corner, the desk and his bed. He needed to buy a recliner and a telly for Sherlock tomorrow.

The morning came after a restless sleep. He went to see Violet Holmes. He drove Grace and Charlotte to his sister's for the day; Milly babysat the girls while he was at work after school on Mondays and Thursdays.

He entered the hotel lobby and Violet greeted him and gave him a warm hug. They were sat on chairs.

Then his phone pinged and he checked the message. It was John. 'Sherlock just woke up and is looking for you.'

"Let's go, Vi. William just woke up," he said as he gathered his things up and led Violet out to his personal vehicle.

They sat in comfortable silence. A few minutes later, they drove through the London traffic surprisingly fast. They got there in a matter of minutes.

When they arrived, Violet hopped out of the car and ran while Greg parked the vehicle.

—

John and Sherlock were watching mindless telly. Sherlock had just finished his first physical therapy session where they walked Sherlock down the corridor when there was a knock at the door. "Come in," said John.

A woman of about sixty-five entered the hospital room. "Hi, William," the woman said, looking towards Sherlock with concern in her voice.

"Mummy?" Sherlock said, looking at her and John was surprised. "Why are you here?"

"Your father called me," she said, and John saw as Sherlock rolled his eyes at her.

"And you came. I ended up here at hospital when I overdosed and you didn't even come. It's always Dad and Caroline." At this point, Greg arrived. Sherlock was hyperventilating and Greg looked at Sherlock's mother and ushered her outside.

A nurse came to the room and got the Ativan from the corner of the room. John left to meet Greg and Sherlock's mother outside.

When he arrived outside the waiting room, Greg and Sherlock's mother were hissing at each other. Greg noticed him first. "Hi, John," Greg said, introducing the woman next to him. "This is Sherlock's mother, Violet. Violet, this is Doctor John Watson, William's best friend." They shook hands with Violet looking at him dubiously.

John straightened out subconsciously. "So, how's he?" Violet said.

He looked at Greg and answered. "He's doing great, and he's fine."

—-

Sherlock was transferred to a regular room that afternoon. His mother left after a while and John wondered why Sherlock didn't want to see her.

John sat with Sherlock while Greg went to fetch Sherlock's sisters from Sherlock's aunt Millie.

They sat in comfortable silence watching telly when John asked Sherlock a question. "Why don't you want to see your mum?"

Sherlock shrugged. "I don't want to talk about it."

John honoured Sherlock's wishes by not pushing the issue. He would just ask Greg later. They sat watching some more television until there was a knock at his door.

"Willie." Two girls of about eight years old went to Sherlock's side. Sherlock smiled at his sisters and patted their heads.

"Be careful with Will's chest, okay? He just got shot, remember?" The twins rolled their eyes at Greg and sat in the chair that John vacated.

"Can you walk with me, Greg?" John said.

"Yes. Girls, behave. William, I'll just talk to John. Watch over them." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

As John and Greg went outside in the corridor, Greg said, "What's up?"

"So, Sherlock doesn't want to see his mother. Why?"

Greg sighed. They sat on benches near the nurses' station. "His mother abandoned my son when he was eight at Chesham Prep, and moved to the states. I was still a constable. He ran away a couple of times. Vi would call me and I would find him and send him back. At the end of his third school year, I talked with Vi, and we decided to change schools."

"It must have been hard for Sherlock, being on the Autism spectrum. Where did you end up enrolling him?" John commented.

"Yes, he wanted out. His roommate was noisy and he could not stand the mess hall. I ended up moving to the house I live in today. I decided on getting a mortgage because of being 29 and on that meagre of a salary. It's good. I got approved for one, being a constable and all." Greg laughed.

"So where did you enroll him? At a state school?"

Greg glared; it was not directed at John. "No, of course not. Sherlock had a lot of language issues at the time so no. I did my research and we decided on Eaton Square School in Belgravia. I would drop him off in my police car. He was very proud."

"I never thought Sherlock grew up middle class in Putney. That's unlike Mycroft. That's why the homeless are very near to his heart. By the way, if you don't mind saying." John took a deep breath. "What happened with Caroline? did Sherlock imply that she was like a mum to him earlier?"

"William's upbringing was great. Being a kid with autism never stopped that. He learned to play piano, guitar and of course the violin. He wasn't much for team sport but he is a black belt."

"What happened with Caroline? Why did Sherlock imply that she was like a mum to him earlier?"

"She died while Sherlock was gone from cancer. Sherlock came back for the funeral."

"You knew?"

"Yes, of course I knew. I'm his father."

John thought and let it go because Greg was his friend, too. "When did you first meet Caroline?"

Greg smiled in remembrance. "I met Caroline at Eaton Square. She was an au pair for this little girl with Autism. Will was 14 years old at the time, and we dated right away. It was nice. We got married after a year of dating. And Will was my best man. Let's get back. Will's watching them."

Greg and John stood and walked back to Sherlock's room. When they got there, Sherlock and his sisters were watching a video on his iPad, the girls on each side. John sighed, a smile making its way onto his face.

"Okay, Will?" Greg asked. Sherlock didn't reply and grew paler. Greg noticed. "Gracie, Charlie, get off him.''

"I'm fine, Dad," Sherlock said and John froze because he never thought that an adult Sherlock would call his father 'dad'.

"We ought to be leaving. Will, I'll see you later," Greg said, patting Sherlock's arm.

"Tell him you love him," one of the girls said. John was shocked and Sherlock was frozen too.

"Sherlock?" John said after Greg and the twins left.

"Yes, John," Sherlock said, a blush dripping on his cheeks despite his obvious pain.

"Is… is there anything you want to tell me, Sherlock?"

"I'm bored, John." John rolled his eyes. Sherlock cleared his throat and said, "I do. Charlotte and Grace are right. Love you, John, but it's not time. You're still married to Mary."

John cleared his throat. "Okay, you love me. I love you too, Sherlock. When you 'died' I grieved you…"

"How about Mary, John?" Sherlock pressed the control button for the morphine and drifted to sleep.

—-

Sherlock woke up with pressure on his hand. He registered pain from his chest and remembered Mary. He was shot by John's wife whom he considered a friend. Sherlock opened his eyes and looked at his hand. John.

John was here, next to him. He remembered how his sisters bamboozled him earlier today. Sherlock was lying nervously on his hospital bed, waiting for John to notice him.

Sherlock wanted to speak with John about what was said between them. In truth, Sherlock wanted to talk with John at the restaurant. That was why he was there. Mycroft had advised him not to go and see the doctor but Sherlock had missed John so he went.

John stirred, looking at Sherlock with a smile. "Why did you not tell me you loved me, Sherlock?"

Sherlock couldn't really read emotions, he could approximate it by looking at the person's face. John's face was puzzled, and scared. "I was about to tell you."

"When?"

"The night you proposed to Mary. That's why I was there."

"The night you came back?"

"Yes, John, the night I came back. Do keep up."

John smirked. "Since when?

Sherlock looked everywhere except at John. "Since Dartmoor.."

"That long? Why did you leave?"

"I had to. You know about Moriarty?" John confirmed with a nod. "My father is such a snitch," Sherlock mumbled under his breath.

"He told me, yes. Why did you not tell me?"

"I never knew what to say."

"What, you don't know what to tell me?"

"I'm not really good at this, John," Sherlock shouted; the monitor screamed.

"Calm down. Deep breath, one, two, three…."

Sherlock continued. "I have Autism. I can't read people's minds, I could not even read people's faces."

"I know, I'm sorry," John said.

"No, you don't."

"Alright, I concede. I don't know things."

"You don't understand because you're not me." Sherlock was suddenly tired. "I'm tired, John."