John wanted to turn back the time. He wanted to go back to the pool and kill Moriarty and be done with the episode.
Sherlock was asleep. He had fallen back asleep after Dr Chase's rounds. The doctor had told them that if there were no problems, they would discharge Sherlock the next day. He needed to live with someone for a while; John texted Lestrade who said Sherlock was welcome at his home.
John didn't know if Sherlock would want that but, he reasoned, if Sherlock was against it then he would say so, plus Sherlock lived with Greg before meeting John and moving to Baker Street.
It was five o'clock in the afternoon when Sherlock woke up. "Hi, love, how're you doing?"
Sherlock nodded. "I'm fine, John. What did Chase tell you?"
"You'll need to live with someone."
Sherlock grimaced. "Oh."
John picked up Sherlock's hand. "I called Greg."
"Why did you do that?"
"You don't want to stay with him?" John asked, frowning.
Sherlock nodded.
"Why?"
"I don't like my father and the girls to see me like this," Sherlock said.
"Like what?" John saw Sherlock's right hand shaking."Sherlock, your hands are trembling."
Sherlock clenched his hand into a fist. "I don't want to talk about it."
"I have work to do, Sherlock, and Baker Street has stairs. And that is the only possibility for you. Or do you want to go to a rehab facility?"
"No," After thinking about it for a while, Sherlock said,"Okay, I'll stay with them."
"I'll see you everyday."
"I can't sleep anyway," Sherlock said, sounding worried. "What am I going to say to Gracie and Charlie? Dad would be upset to see his son having a nightmare."
"Since when do you have nightmares?" John asked, looking at him. That was new. Sherlock didn't have nightmares. Sherlock looked at his feet, at the table and at John. "Can I wager a guess?" John held Sherlock's hand in his. "From your time away?"
Sherlock simply nodded.
"Can I ask what happened to you, Sherlock? Where have you been?" John asked.
Sherlock looked at John and it was uncomfortable. "I was held in captivity by Moriarty's last men."
"Oh, God!" John expressed his horror. "I thought…" His voice trailed off.
"You thought I was James Bond, doing spy things. I wasn't doing spy things," Sherlock said. "I got tortured. You don't know the horror of it, John."
Sherlock's hands were both trembling but he clenched them into fists. John was worried. "Sherlock? Are you okay?" Then his right foot twitched. "What the hell's going on, Sherlock?"
"Panic attack," Sherlock answered, his eyes were closed.
"Okay, I'll call Chase."
"No need, John."
He was jerking, but he was awake. John pushed the call button for the nurses station. A nurse popped her head in. "Page Dr Chase," John shrieked.
The nurse left. At this point Sherlock's eyes closed. "Sherlock? Can you hear me, love?"
Sherlock nodded. He was still conscious, but he was having a seizure. "What was going on? Was this PNES? Did he have PNES? "Sherlock?"
Then Chase was there, ordering nurses. "Does he have Epilepsy?" Chase asked, looking at John after they had sedated Sherlock.
"I don't know," John said. "Check his records for non-epileptic seizures."
Chase nodded, leaving John to call Greg.
"John, what's wrong?" Greg asked.
John almost chuckled. Contrary to popular belief, Greg was a good policeman and was very intelligent. "Sherlock had a seizure."
"Is he conscious, John. What were you two doing?"
"Yes, we were talking about his time away."
John heard Greg sigh from the other end of the line. "Okay. He has PNES. While he was at the boarding school, he would have seizures. I took him to the doctors and the EEG was normal. After which, I took him to a psychiatrist. William is already stressed out about the whole situation of being shot, and you've been interrogating him? What were you thinking, John?"
"I wasn't, sir." This conversation with Greg was like talking to his commanding officer or a very protective girlfriend's father. He almost chuckled again. "We were talking about going to your place because he will be discharged tomorrow and he told me that he doesn't want to go to your place and I asked him why. He was having nightmares, Greg."
"Tell him I know. No worries. After your wedding he stayed with me…"
"Got it."
"And, John, when he's stressed he can have these episodes. Tell his doctor that he has it. I'll see you guys tomorrow."
"Bye."
"Dr. Watson?" Chase said.
"Yes?"
"He has PNES. We checked the records. I will draw out his discharge papers."
John sighed.
"He's going to be fine, Watson," Chase said.
John just nodded and sighed again. "Thank you, Rob." He and Sherlock's doctor were colleagues.
John sat at Sherlock's side, clutching his hand. "Sherlock, love, it's okay. I still love you." Even when asleep, he knew that Sherlock needed to be reassured.
The next morning, Sherlock's PT arrived, Mindy, to assess Sherlock's physical strength and his need for PT. Sherlock's left side was weaker than his right. John was cursing himself for not noticing it. "Page Chase," he said to the nurse with Mindy. Sherlock was agitated.
When Chase arrived, Sherlock was sitting on a wheelchair and John was pacing back and forth, like he had during Sherlock's surgery. "I'm paging CT, stat."
Sherlock was brought to the CT scanner promptly; he didn't say anything to John.
An hour later, Chase called John's phone. "Dr Watson," Chase sounded worried.
"Yes, Chase," John said.
"The CT indicated no stroke, nothing. His brain is as it should be."
John could hear a but in Chase's voice. "But," John prompted.
"We don't know what's going on and Mr Holmes refused testing and he wants to go home."
"Of course he wants to go home," John said. "Sherlock hates hospitals and also he has Autism as you may know." He thought about it for a second. "His father will be there." He was sure that Greg would take time off for Sherlock. "And after work I can go to his dad's place."
"Okay," Chase said. "I'll release him."
John called Greg first. He was in New Scotland Yard, judging by the background noise. Sherlock would be proud. "Sherlock will be coming home today, Greg, but he has lateral weakness on the left side of his body."
"Hypotonia?" Greg asked
"Yes," John said.
"His left side?"
"Why?"
"Will's got low tone since he was young. His left tended to be weaker but through PT he overcame it. Now, apparently, it's back." Greg sighed.
After checking if Greg would be there when Sherlock got home, John hung up.
Greg was worriedly waiting for Sherlock and John. As soon as he hung up on John, he called Mycroft and told him that he would be going on leave to take care of Sherlock. Mycroft said that he would make arrangements for him.
He was cleaning Sherlock's bedroom when John wheeled Sherlock in in a black, hospital issued wheelchair. "John," Greg said. "Oh, son." He tapped Sherlock's hair affectionately.
The girls went with Greg's sister and her family to church. Greg was agnostic like Sherlock but he and Caroline had talked about bringing their daughters up in church even if, like Sherlock and him, they would probably become agnostic.
Sherlock looked at him tiredly. "Dad, is my piano still here?"
"You know it's here, lad." He smiled at Sherlock. "Follow me?" He asked John who was holding his chair."
"Oh," Sherlock said. He climbed up out of the chair. John and Greg grabbed Sherlock's arm when he almost toppled.
"That's what I'm talking about," John said.
Greg just grimaced. "Okay? When is the therapist going to be here?"
"Tomorrow at ten," said John while watching Sherlock play the piano for the first time. "Wow, very nice." He was playing Bach, Jesu, Joy Of Man's Desiring.
"It's just a simple Bach piece," Sherlock said.
Greg smiled to himself and left Sherlock playing in his room to make dinner.
—
John was perched on Sherlock's old bed listening to him play the piano. By now, Sherlock was singing with his baritone voice. It was nice, looking at his old room. It was a bigger room than his own at his parents' house, a custom built room.
There was a swing that could handle Sherlock's weight in the middle of the room. A table, a desk, a new flat screen telly, a walk-in wardrobe and, of course, the bed with blue sheets.
John stood up and picked up the photograph. It was of Sherlock, Greg and the two girls and a woman with dark hair and blue eyes. "Is this your step mum, Caroline?"
Sherlock didn't stop but glanced at John and at the photograph he was holding. "Yes, that's from Disneyland Paris when the girls were three," Sherlock said absentmindedly.
The two men stayed in the room until there was a knock at the door. "Will." Two girls entered Sherlock's room.
"Hi," John said.
The girls ignored John and went to Sherlock's side. Sherlock stopped playing and told his sisters, "This is my boyfriend, John." He pointed at the girls in turn. "This is Gracie and that's Charlie."
They turned their heads towards John and shook his hand one at a time. They looked like mini Sherlocks in their Sunday best. "Oh, my god, they are so cute," John said.
"Will, Daddy made fish and chips, your favourite," Gracie said.
"Oh, really," Sherlock said, smiling. "All right, go and tell him I'm coming out." The girls ran outside. Sherlock winced looking at John.
—
The next morning, when John woke up, Sherlock was in the bed penning an email. He glanced at the alarm clock placed on the bedside table. It was nine thirty. The therapist would come in at around 10:00. It was Monday, his day off. It was good it was his day off, because it was Sherlock's first day of physical therapy.
"Sherlock, who are you emailing?" John asked as he stood and stretched out his muscles.
Sherlock glanced at him for a brief second and answered, "Mycroft, I'm looking for Mary."
"Why?" John asked because Sherlock had never mentioned that he would like to find Mary.
"John, don't be daft," Sherlock said. He was lacing their fingers together. "She has your child."
John looked at his fingers twined with Sherlock's. "I know—"
"I'll find her and bring her back. That's the end of the conversation."
"What do your father and brother think about that?" exclaimed John, looking at Sherlock almost angrily.
"About what?" Sherlock said.
"Oh, I don't know, you wanting to get Mary… Sherlock?" Sherlock's hand stilled his fingers. "Then what?"
"I want to bring her back to you, John," Sherlock said.
"What?"
He had anticipated this, thanks to Greg. "No, I'm divorcing her," John said. "And you're pressing charges!"
"No!" Sherlock exclaimed.
"Why not?"
"Because, she's my friend."
"No, Sherlock, she's not your friend," John said. It was hard to explain this to a genius like Sherlock but Greg was right. He didn't understand the complexities of human motivation. "Yes, I know she's friendly to you but she had ulterior motives."
He could see Sherlock shrink. Greg was right Sherlock couldn't understand shite. He was pretty black and white. But there was no time as Sherlock needed to do PT today. "We are going to talk about this later," he said, helping Sherlock out of the bed.
John helped Sherlock with his underpants and jeans. He had never thought that the first time he would see down there would be when he was helping him out.
When they exited the bedroom, Greg was waiting for them with Mindy, drinking tea. "Morning, Will," Greg said. "John, what time are you going to work?"
"No, it's my day off on Mondays. Can I stay?"
"Mr Holmes? Or should I call you Will?"
"Sherlock," Sherlock said.
"Okay, Sherlock it is," Mindy said.
John realised that although it was a middle name, 'Sherlock' was only used by strangers, by the media or by acquaintances. His family called him Will or William.
—
"Can I call you Will?" John asked while they were in bed. Sherlock was typing a very angry email to Mycroft.
"Why?" Sherlock asked. Don't you like Sherlock anymore."
"No," John denied. "It's just…. we're closer now. You introduced me to your kid sisters."
"What's that to do with anything?"
"I just think that now that we're closer than friends, I could call you by your actual name."
"I don't know about that. My mother named me William. Growing up, I hated that name because of the expectations she had of me that I'd grow up normal. She calls me Will or William, not Sherlock, unlike Mycroft, there's something about that name how simple and common it is. While I was away, I used Scott Grayson and that was horrid, I hated it more than I hated William Holmes-Lestrade."
Sherlock was silent for a bit, deliberating. "But you can if you really want to especially around the girls. They've asked me four times now, who Sherlock is."
John picked up his hand to show he understood Sherlock. "Okay," John said, testing the name with his tongue. "Good night, William."
AN: John would realize he hated calling Sherlock, William