Chapter 3

AN- Hi again, I tried to post again as soon as I could, but I'm writing this right before I post it, unfortunately, I don't have a chapter that I can just throw out to you guys. Thanks for those who reviewed, favorated, or followed. I'm looking for a beta, if you're interested, please PM me!

Disclaimer- I do not own BBC's Sherlock, I wish I did, and I only own my own thoughts!

John POV

The light faded in and out, from being blinding white to the darkest of night in the Afganistan sky. Sometimes, the color was somewhere in the middle, different shapes of gray, and it sometimes reminded me of my husbands eyes. But what was his name? Everything is foggy in my head, and I can't seem to clear it. I know that my spouse is a bloke, no girl would ever be able to keep up with the adventure I crave, no offense to women. But the name keeps slipping through my fingers, and I just can't seem to grasp it.

The light starts to become bright again, completely blinding me, even if there is nothing to see. As the light continues to brighten, other sensations become noticeable. Pain is the first, shooting white hot daggers through my head, shoulder, leg, and ribs with every breath I pull though my lungs.

Next is the feeling of the hand gripping mine like a vice, not willing to let go at any cost. I try to wiggle my fingers, succeeding in moving them a miniscule amount. Then I try to squeeze the long, slim fingers grasping mine, for it makes the pain more bearable.

Beep… Beep… Beep… is the next thing that I notice, the annoying noise of the heart monaters in the field hospital. But why would I be hearing a heart monitor? Is someone I know hurt? What about my husband, whose name I still cannot discover.

As the beeping gets louder, I hear someone trying to talk to me, but it sounds like they are miles and miles away, like hearing Sherlock (that's the name!) over the phone before my unit was moved to the front lines. Is it possible that I got hurt on duty?

"Hey John, John, I can feel you moving your fingers, can you hear me? Can you hear me, John? Squeeze my hand if you can hear me. Wake up, you idiot, you have scared me half to death with worry!" I recognize the voice, it's Sherlock! But he sounds so far away. Is it really his hand that I am holding onto? I squeeze it, in case that it really is his hand. I want my Sherlock to know that I'm okay.

I have to find out. What if he is hurt, and that's why I'm hearing a heart monitor? I try to pry open my eyes, but they feel like they are glued together, as dry as the desert. It takes a few attempts, but I manage to wedge them open. As soon as I manage that, I have to immediately close them again, because of how bright it is. It is even brighter than the light from before.

As I slowly blink open my eyes, they immediately fall on the face leaning over mine, pale skin, gray-blue eyes, and a mop of black curls.

"Sher-" I try and get the sound out of my parched throght, but it feels too much like sandpaper to actually accomplish the whole word. "Wa-"

"Do you need some water, John? The nurse left some right here for you, let me get it. Don't try to move too much. Here you go." My husband leaned out over me again and put a straw to my lips as I drank like a dying man.

"Sherlock," I croak out, "what happened? Why am I here?" every few words was interrupted by my lungs trying to escape through my traicea, but I managed the small sentence.

"Hey, just lean back and relax. Your unit was ambushed in Afganistan, you were shot, John. God," he said, "I thought that I had lost you when you didn't write. You have been asleep for three weeks."

"Three-" I cough, "Three weeks?" he nods

"I need to go let the nurse know that you are awake, okay? But first, you have to let go of my hand. I promise that I will be right back. Don't try and move around too much." I hadn't realized that I was still holding his hand in a harsh grip, but I let go, even if I never wanted to let him out of my sight again.

Sherlock left, and was back again quickly with a nurse and a doctor in tow. The doctor's name tag said Dr. A. Jeffery, and the nurses said Mary M.

"Well," the doctor said, "It's great to see you awake Dr. Watson."

"Please call me John, I'm not much of a doctor at the moment." I manage to get the words of the introduction out of my throat.

"Pleasure to meet you, John, and you too, Mr. Watson-Holms," he said with a nod of his head to Sherlock. "Are you experiencing any discomfort? We had to wean you off some of the pain killers to help you wake up, but now we should be able to up the dose a bit."

I nodded, "My shoulder and leg, especially, they have given me a little trouble in the past. Old school rugby injuries." I grinned at the memory, but my smile quickly faded as I realized that I might not ever be able to play the sport again. "Just how bad off am I, Doc?"

"Well," he said, " we still need to give you a more thorough exam not that you are awake, but it looks like you will regain most of your mobility, but not quite all of it. I am confident, though, that you will still be able to continue as a doctor." The thought of still being able to help people gave me some comfort, but the road to recovery will be a long one.

AN- How about that? Two updates so close to one another. I'm glad I am able to get this out, the next few weeks are going to be crazy school wise for me, with quite a few tests (along with the stupid standardized testing) and practicle exams. A fun week all around for me. Good luck to those of you who are in the same boat as me! Please tell me how you liked the story, constructive criticism is always welcome! I am looking for a beta for this story, please PM me if you are interested, I could certainly use a little help here!

Please Review! J