All characters belong to the BBC Sherlock TV show.

I apologise for spelling errors and grammar errors in this story. I'm currently writing this out on my iPhone in the evenings on the FanFiction app and spell check does not exist! I will try and edit when I spot them, so shout if you see an error.

Warnings: some angsty Sherlock, lots of medical jargon, still questionable 'tea' and poor old John

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Chapter 2

'John... you need to wake up. This is getting ridiculous' Sherlock scowled down at the bed in front of him. 'The tea here is awful, they won't let me play my violin and I miss the sofa in the flat' I miss you - like hell he'd say out loud. 'John. John.. John?'

Sherlock growled, a spike of anger glaring through him and slumped in his chair. It was day 5 of a non medically induced coma. His feet bounced anxiously. His hands fluttered down to the books next to him, then retracted. He'd been having one sided conversations with John for the last 2 days. Ever since that nurse (there's more than one nurse - but Sherlock had frightened most of them away with so scathing deductions if he felt them incompetent - only a few remain steadfastly consistent) had mentioned it may help. Sherlock had been wild eyed and flipping through medical texts obsessively trying to find anything that would help John, or himself feel better. The nurse had taken a bit of a stand against Sherlock's eccentric behaviour and tried to guide him towards something a bit more productive. Talking to John was apparently one of those things.

That nurse walked in and Sherlock scowled some more. 'It's not working! This ridiculous notion that talking to someone in a coma will positively influence their prognoses is just that -ridiculous' he pushed slightly shaking hands into rather messy hair, tugging at the -now greasy- ends.

The nurse smiled at him slightly sympathetically as she checked Johns wrist band before setting up more morphine - Sherlock scowled some more and flicked his eyes over her once more, gaining more data each time. Married, 5 years. 2 children, 1 blond and one ginger haired. Scratches on arm - dog? likes coffee, non smoker, staining on teeth, but fingers fine. Took bus here - lives in part of London with no tube station. Glasses, 2 sets, I can see spare in pocket with book- likes to read. Romance novel enthusiast - ah that explains the inane advice.

'It's been proven that some coma patients can hear you whilst they are, where-ever they are. Dr Watson doesn't seem the kind to just hang up and leave, I'm sure he's listening' she spoke softly.

'Then why isn't he waking up?' He pouted - a bit petulantly the nurse thought.

'listening and doing are two separate things Mr Holmes' she answered more firmly. She straightened from finishing setting up the pump and whipped around to him sharply, hands on hips. She advanced on him and Sherlock sank into his seat slightly - completely involunarily he was sure.

'John has been through an awful lot, and he will wake up when he's ready and able to and not a moment before. Now you, on the other hand need a shower and something to drink and eat Sherlock Holmes. I don't want John waking up to find a skeleton for a partner-'

'- Friend' Sherlock scowled further, tucking his arms under his armpits.

'-don't care! You certainly seem to be the closest person to him considering you are his health care power of attorney and not his family. And as such you have a duty to look after yourself so you can look after him.' She pulled out some towels from beneath the cabinet next to John, and Sherlock found his face covered in them as she threw them at him. She marched around the bed, picked up a carry on bag which held Sherlock's effects and manhandled Sherlock into standing up - sherlock squawking as she did so, and pushed him into the little bathroom provided to private rooms. Mutterings of 'unhand me woman!' And 'what the hell do you-!' 'Let go-!' We're cut off as she slammed the door shut as Sherlock spun around.

'Now I will wait with John, whilst you shower and for gods sake shave- and I will get you a cup of tea and some toast after' she tossed as she turned around back to Johns bed, so straighten the sheets and take care of the more personal aspects of his care while his boyfriend -friend- was occupied. She heard some explicitives from the bathroom and banging which she should have been concerned about but then the sound of running from water from the shower.

Someone clearing their throat had her glancing to the door to the taller, older Holmes brother, who was holding his umbrella, and raising an eye brow. A slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. 'I must say, the last time Sherlock was forcibly moved by someone he was 7, and had decided that mummy's drawing room wall was a good place to practice drawing out Boltzmans equation of thermodynamics. Nanny Lina was rather a large women if I recall but it still took a while to peel Sherlock off the wallpaper. He was quite determined.' he remarked.

The Nurse smiled and narrowed her eyes slightly. 'We he may be a grown man, but I have experience dealing with quirky and more stubborn individuals' she turned back to John.

'How is he today nurse..?'

'Rosemary, but you can call me rosie' she nodded at Mycroft 'although it seems like there's no improvement, there are some positive signs for prognoses' she gestured Mycroft to join her. As he walked over to the foot of the bed she lifted the sheet to show johns foot and leg. It was covered in yellowing green and blue bruises around the ankles, and muscle wastage had set in, but the nurse didn't seem concerned. She glanced at Mycroft to see if he was watching, and then flicked her nail hard against the arch of johns foot. It was subtle but there was a slight flinch. Barely a movement, more like a tensing of muscles.

'See that?' She flicked Johns foot again 'withdrawal from pain, or at least a reaction to a stimulus is a massive jump in points in the Glasgow coma scale. When John came off a medically induced coma he was scoring 3, the minimum score for GCS but now I'd say he's scoring at least a 7. That's really positive. His bloody pressure has stabalised, and there's no pressure on the brain now. He's only on the ventilator until we are sure he will wake up enough to take it out' she tucked Johns leg back under the cover, and donned gloves to replace the bag attached to the catheta.

'As for Sherlock - Maybe not such positive news. That man seems to be getting worse the longer he stays here.' She tutted.

'Hmmm yes, my brother doesn't do too well when feelings are involved. He's not used to them, or rather, not used to feeling them for others. However our doctor has always brought out a different side of Sherlock' his lips twitched briefly into a sardonic smile. Mycroft sat down on one of the vIsitors chairs, folding his newspaper on his lap and tucking the suit jacket around him neatly. 'I'm pleased at least someone is looking out for him'

'I'd rather not have 2 patients to tend' she huffed 'god knows he's only demand a bed in the same room, though we may need to think about getting something in here that isn't a chair for him to sleep on. Your a man with connections, perhaps you can get a futon?'

'I'm certain I could try, though Sherlock rarely sleeps, he's always had a touch of insomnia ever since he was a baby. Drove mummy batty'

Just as she's finished taking stats from the machienes surrounding John, the bathroom door flung open, letting out a billow of steam. A much more presentable Sherlock erupted from the bathroom in a whirlwind of dripping wet curls and hastily shrugged on clothing. He was practically snarling. Even so he'd managed to shave without cutting and change into clean clothes.

Mycroft coughed to gain his brother attention. 'good to see you looking a bit more human Sherlock. Rosemary was just showing me some signs of johns recovery'

Sherlock's eyes flashed from Mycroft to the nurse like lightning 'he's waking up?'

'Not so much waking up, but showing small signs of progress' she said slowly, staring at Sherlock. 'I've been around many patients in a coma, they are not asleep, they don't wake up like they do in movies.' She flopped back the sheet to show Sherlock what she had shown Mycroft. Sherlock let out a small sound, when she flicked his foot, but stilled when he saw the twitch.

'What happens next?' He asked, something almost reverent about his tone'

Rosie smiled 'next, you will eat something and then I will phone your doctor to come and explain.'

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Hope you enjoyed this chapter! It turned out a bit longer than I thought - Hopefuly the pace is alright. Recovering from trauma is a long process, and not at all like you see in movies or read about. I wanted to make it kind of realistic!