John parks the rental car and he and Caroline walk inside the hospital. They find Mycroft sitting in the waiting room, a hand over his mouth and eyes staring straight ahead, unseeing. "Mycroft?"

"Daddy!" Caroline runs over and throws her arms around Mycroft's neck. He looks up and halfheartedly puts one arm around her.

"Where's Sherlock?" John asks, stepping closer. Mycroft motions toward the hall leading to the ER with his head but his expression doesn't change from a dead-eyed stare. "How is he? Actually, first tell me what happened. Why is he in there?"

Caroline drops the hug and explores the room. Mycroft watches her for a second as she looks at a poster depicting a nurse administering a shot to a patient. His eyes train back on John and immediately fill with tears. "He's here because of me. I lost my head and…and…"

"What the hell did you do to him?"

"I hurt him. I almost killed him! I got too caught up in getting him to apologize. If it weren't for me, he wouldn't…" Mycroft's voice breaks. "I watched him die John. Or what I thought was him dying until he shows up at my hotel. I lost my temper. Opened up wounds that caused him to bleed profusely. I-"

"So why is he here?" John paces in front of Mycroft trying to keep from hitting him.

"Last night, he was vomiting up blood. And this morning, he started hallucinating and couldn't hold his own weight. He's severely anemic."

"Did he… did he have any seizures? It's common in situations like these." John stops pacing and puts his hands on his head.

Mycroft bites his lower lip to keep from breaking into sobs. "Yes. For the past 3 hours."

John sinks into the chair beside Mycroft. "God…" He leans over and holds his head in his hands for a few minutes without speaking. "He told me he loved me."

Mycroft looks up, slightly shocked. "Like… as a friend or…?"

"He's not one to show that kind of emotion. What do you think he meant Mycroft?"

"When?" Mycroft turns in his seat to face John.

"Early. This morning."

"After he left the hotel…" Mycroft mumbles to himself. "I'm not sure you can trust what he said. He started losing it this morning."

"I promise you he was more than sincere about it."

"Has he ever done something like that, ever, in his time with you?" Mycroft asks, an air of disbelief in his tone.

"No. He wasn't the type. It surprised me too when he came out with a confession like that. Did he ever show…signs of…this, growing up?"

"Not that I'm aware of. Course, I was gone for that specific period of his life. I guess I always thought of him as more asexual. I always assumed you knew more about my brother's love life than I did." Mycroft looks over at Caroline who has settled at a table and was quietly coloring. "I hope you don't plan on acting on it."

"What I do in my personal life is my business. You don't get a say," John huffs. A nurse calls Mycroft over and John, relieved to end that conversation, stands to join Caroline. "What're you drawing?" he asks, kneeling beside her and picking up a pink crayon.

"Mummy and Daddy." The picture definitely shows two figures holding hands, but art was not Caroline's strong suit. She adds in a few more blades of grass and slides it over to John to inspect.

"Oh yes, I see the resemblance now." John chooses a piece of paper of his own and starts drawing Caroline. "Hand me the yellow would ya?" He finishes drawing the small blonde girl in a pink overalls dress. Caroline scrutinizes it for a moment before taking it and crudely drawing a man standing beside her likeness. The grey hair, jeans and grey jumper tells John it was supposed to be him.

"Now it's perfect." Caroline hands it back to John proudly.

John chuckles. "But why me and not your parents?"

"You're my dad right now remember?"

"That was while we were in Belgium."

"But unless you have a fridge drawing in your wallet, who's going to believe that you're a single dad?" Caroline argues.

John shakes his head. This girl was too smart for her own good. "You're right." He takes the drawing and folds it up, putting it into his wallet. Would Rosie have done the same? He smiles sadly just as Mycroft returns. "Well? How is he?" John stands to meet Mycroft who doesn't answer. "Tell me!"

A man in a wheelchair enters the waiting room. His chest is tightly wrapped, and his casted foot is propped up in front. "Mycroft. Glad to see you're still here."

John abandons his attempts to get Mycroft to speak and walks up to meet the new arrival. "You must be Sherrinford." They shake hands.

"And you're John Watson." Sherrinford leans back in the chair with a groan. "I'm sorry by the way. I'm the one who got Sherlock shot." John looks surprised. "Oh. You didn't tell him the whole story Mycro?" Mycroft breaks into full on tears and sinks to the ground. Sherrinford hurriedly rolls over but John gets to him first, kneeling beside the broken man, his concern more for news on Sherlock than for him.

"Mycroft. It can't be that bad can it? Ple-please tell me it's not that bad."

Mycroft continues to sob, unable to form words. Sherrinford speaks up as people start staring. "Bloody hell Mycro! He's not dead is he?" This causes Mycroft to cry harder. A nurse approaches and asks that they move into another room. John happily obliges, helping Mycroft to his feet and following the nurse into an empty room nearby. John closes the door behind Sherrinford and Caroline.

"Mycroft. Sit up," John orders. Mycroft turns from his laying position in the chair and looks up. His body shakes with dry sobs and his eyes are red and puffy. John had never seen the usually so together man this human before. "Good. Now, tell me what the nurse told you."

Mycroft focuses his eyes on Caroline and takes a minute to steady his breath. She smiles at him. "It's okay Daddy." She walks up and grabs his hand. She squeezes it comfortingly and he squeezes back.

With a breath in, Mycroft speaks, "They t-took Sherlock in fo-for surgery, an-and he had a st-stream of seizures that-" his voice breaks again.

"Dammit Mycroft! What?!" John's heart is racing. He's not sure he's prepared to hear what comes next, but he'd need to know eventually.

"They did some brain scans that showed major reduction in bl-blood flow to the hippocampus, the amygdala, and portions of the c-cortex. They aren't sure what this m-means yet, but all the sei-seizures… he's not waking up."

"He's…" John's stomach drops, and it takes everything he has to keep standing. "He's in a coma?" John's knees buckle and he grabs onto a chair for support. He stares blankly at the ground, entirely in shock.

"It's all my fault! What if we lose him?" Mycroft cries.

"It's not your fault Mycro," Sherrinford insists.

"No. It is. It is. I'll never forgive myself!" Mycroft leans forward and sobs into his hands.

Sherrinford clears his throat and adopts a serious tone, "Mycroft. I don't want you to leave my sight. No matter where you go, I want you to bring somebody with you. The bathroom included. Do you understand?"

Mycroft looks over at Sherrinford. "You think I'd kill myself over this?"

"With the amount of guilt you are feeling and the mental state I've watched progress in you, I'm afraid I do consider that a possibility."

"As a doctor, I have to agree. Mycroft, the best thing for you is that you rest. Do you have somewhere nearby we can stay?"

"I do, but I'm not going to rest until Sherlock-" Mycroft begins to argue.

"Mycroft!" Sherrinford cuts him off. "Listen to the medical man. You will return to our hotel room with John and Caroline, eat and get some proper sleep."

"No. I won't be able to sleep and anything I eat would just sit heavy in my stomach. I'm staying here to watch over my brother."

"You won't do any good here. You'll just be in the way. You need to get out of the hospital and gain a proper head space," Sherrinford growls.

"I'm not leaving him!" Mycroft stands and advances on Sherrinford.

"Mycroft! He won't be alone. I'm stuck here for a few days at least."

"Yeah, because I can definitely trust you with him." Mycroft glowers at Sherrinford.

"Caroline, go grab Mycroft a cup of water from the lobby," John instructs, sensing the sudden tension. Caroline jumps from the chair and obediently runs out of the room.

"Where the hell is this coming from?" Sherrinford asks, suddenly defensive. It seems to John that he wasn't expecting this mistrust from his brother. In all honesty, neither had he.

"You tried to kill us all. Why should I trust leaving you alone with a man who can't fight back?"

"I saved you all!" Sherrinford rolls his wheelchair as close to Mycroft as he can and sits up tall, despite the pain it must cause him.

"You didn't even step in and try to stop me when I was… when I hurt him." Mycroft and Sherrinford were about nose to nose. "This must be part of your boss' master plan!"

"I got shot! You really believe I'm still on their side?!"

"Boys!" John steps in and pushes Mycroft back. "Your brother is dying," his voice breaks on the word dying but he collects his voice and continues, "Now, I don't really know you Sherrinford, but I've worked close enough with you Mycroft to know that you think you know better than everyone else. In this instance, you need to put away your pride and think about what's best for Sherlock. I have lost enough people I love over you damn Holmes's. Hell if I lose another!" John turns and clenches his fists. "You…" He catches himself and walks out of the room, slamming the door behind him. He passes Caroline as he walks up the hall. She stops momentarily but drops the water off to Mycroft before running to catch up with John.

"Do you trust Sherrinford?" She asks, trying to keep step with John.

"I don't know. Sherlock seemed to." John stares straight ahead, not really sure where he was going but sure he wanted to get away from Mycroft.

"Will Sherlock be alright?" Caroline asks, taking John's hand to help her keep up.

John slows and thinks for a second about how to respond. "Carly, you're a smart girl so I'm not going to sugar coat this. I've seen a lot of coma patients in my time. Some wake up and some don't. There isn't anything quantifiable that tells me what makes a person come out of a coma, but from what Mycroft told me, Sherlock won't-" his voice breaks and he sinks to the floor of the hallway. The tears he'd been holding back finally pour from his eyes.

"He'll wake up. He's strong. Plus, he loves you. And you love him. He wouldn't just leave that. He'll fight. Promise." Caroline holds out her pinkie finger. John smiles sadly but doesn't link to it.

"And if he can't?" John sniffs.

"That's not even a possibility." Caroline still stands holding out her pinkie finger, waiting to complete the pinkie promise.

John looks away and wipes the tears from his cheeks. "Everything is a possibility."

Caroline lowers her hand and sits beside him, propping her back against the wall, feet straight out ahead of her. "Do you really love Sherlock?"

"Yes," John responds hesitantly.

"How come?"

"Because" John pauses, choosing his words carefully, "he completes me. When we spoke last night, I told him I hated him out of anger and fear. I didn't know how to respond so instead, I bit back. I didn't mean it. He means everything to me. But I do love him."

"Do you want to marry him?" Caroline's bright blue eyes stare up at John's.

"I…We'll have to see when he wakes up. If he wakes up."

"I don't want to go over this again. He will wake up!"

"And how do you know that?" John crosses his legs and faces Caroline.

"I just do."

"Don't tell me you're going to go make a deal with the devil for his life."

"Me? A deal with the devil? No sir. Hades. I'd make a deal with him. Or the Fates, I guess. I'll steal away Sherlock's string from them, and they'll never be able to cut it." Caroline taps her feet together absently.

"I think I understand why Mycroft likes you so much." John smile softly. "No one in their right mind could not."

"Well, I find myself annoying. I don't think I could be friends with myself. I talk too much and-" John laughs. "I'm serious!"

"You just have a lot to say, that's all. All that brain in such a little body." John tickles Caroline. "You should share before it explodes out of you." Caroline laughs loudly and John finds himself laughing alongside her.

"John?" Caroline asks after catching her breath. John grunts. "Do you like Sherlock's laugh too?"

"Too?"

"Sherlock told me he likes your laugh."

"He did?" John blushes. "I, uh, I guess I like his. It's very deep and…" He trails off.

"Yes?" Caroline says teasingly.

"Nothing. What do you say we go get your father some food?"

"Sure." Caroline stands and starts skipping up the hall singing, "John's gonna be my uncle. He's gonna marry Sherlock." John snickers and follows suit.