"Oh John Dear" Mrs. Hudson cried bringing her hands up to cover up her mouth, "take care of him Sherlock." She said reaching out to touch Sherlock in support, as he followed the stretcher out the front door. Sherlock simply nodded his head sharply in acknowledgement.

As the two medics loaded John onto the truck he began to convulse violently. Sherlock felt as though his heart was stopping and time was slowing down. John Watson was never suppose to be the one injured he was his Doctor. Sherlock felt guilt more so than he had ever felt the emotion in his life before. His only friend the person he could always count on to take care of him was severely injured and it was his fault. His logical side attempted to protect him and argued that as an individual educated in the sciences John should have known better than to wash an unknown substance down the sink with water. However his newly discovered emotional side quickly countered that it wouldn't have even been an issue if Sherlock had just listened to John and kept his hazardous chemicals and experiments well away from the areas that they both used.

"sir….SIR!" Sherlock heard a man speaking loudly near his face and felt someone grab his shoulders. He realized that he had frozen at the back of the ambulance. One of the medics was trying to get him to move into the vehicle while the other immobilized John on the stretcher for the journey and checked the dilation of Johns pupils again.

"Hey Scott! We have uneven dilation!" The medic on the truck shouted "Either get him in here or we will have to leave him behind" The other medic shouted as he jumped out the back of the vehicle and headed around to the drivers seat.

"Sir, are you coming?" The second medic asked a look of sympathy in his eyes as he gave Sherlock a slight pull towards the truck.

Thankfully, Sherlock thought, his feet responded to the small amount of donated inertia and began to move him towards the vehicle. Climbing in behind the medic and taking a seat across from John he was glad to see that his friend had at least stopped convulsing.

The vehicle began to speed away the instant the EMT shut the rear doors of the vehicle.

The man began to quickly move around John checking the monitors that were already connected and prepping the man so that he would be able to receive intravenous fluids and blood once he arrived at hospital. Once this was complete the medic looked towards Sherlock with that same sympathetic look again.

"Sir, Do you know this man well enough to know if he has any previous head trauma or any dangerous medical allergies/conditions we should be aware of immediately?" The man asked quickly but with the clear practice of someone used to dealing with distraught friends and family members. Sherlock began to slowly shake his head 'no', then realizing that wasn't a sufficient answer began to stutter, "n..no…he doesn't have any allergies. I…I know he was injured during his time in the military but I don't believe… I don't think there was any head trauma." Sherlock was startled to hear the lack of certainty in his own voice. He knew he cared a great deal about John but he had never imagined that the man had this level of an affect on his ability to function. He began to wonder at what point he had become so dependent on the stability that the Doctors presence brought him.

The next few moments were filled with relative silence other than the beeping of the monitors attached to John and the flow of oxygen from his mask. The EMT moved efficiently around John monitoring his reactions and vitals. When John began to reflexively grab at the wires and lines attached to him the EMT moved to hold his wrists down. Glancing at Sherlock who was staring straight ahead looking lost the EMT cleared his throat. "Sir could I get your help in keeping your friend still." He asked kindly gesturing to where he was applying gentle pressure to John's wrists. Sherlock hesitantly moved closer to John and clasped on to his wrists. He felt slightly reassured as he felt the steady heart beat of Johns pulse under his hands. 'John was still alive' he held onto that fact like a lifeline. The EMT proceeded to pretend to look around in a box nearby to justify having Sherlock help secure John.

The remainder of the ride was relatively uneventful. John still had not opened his eyes but he was responding to physical stimuli and every now and then he would moan in pain. When they arrived at St. Barth's everything took off at a world wind pace around Sherlock the medics were wheeling John out the back of the truck shouting explanations to the ER doctors waiting by the door as they moved. Sherlock caught snippets of conversation but none of it registered to him.

"Glasgow scale of 7…"

"Single incident of convulsions…"

"Possible intracranial pressure…"

"Significant blood loss upon arrival…"

Their voices faded away as they moved quickly through a set of double doors. A nurse stopped Sherlock as he attempted to follow them.

"I'm sorry sir but he is being taken to surgery you will need to wait out in the waiting room." She said gently.

"No I need to make sure he is alright!" Sherlock half shouted at the woman. "You don't understand this is my fault." He nearly sobbed or as close to sobbing as Sherlock Holmes could come.

The woman gave him a gentle smile and placed a hand on his shoulder gently steering him towards the waiting room.

Another nurse came up to him with a clipboard and in a voice one would use with a small child explained. "Sir right now the best thing you can do is to let the Doctors have their space so that they can help your friend as quickly as possible. If you want to help you can fill out his medical history so that the Doctors have the most accurate information possible to work from." She smiled sweetly pushing the clipboard in front of him with the questionnaire.

Sherlock yanked the clipboard out of her hands. "I'm well aware of the purpose of a medical questionnaire," he shot back with venom attempting to regain some level of normalcy in this traumatic situation.

He felt a firm hand grasp onto his shoulder.

"Brother of mine do try to behave yourself. I told you I would ensure that John received the absolute best care upon his arrival and this woman is simply trying to do her job." He heard the steady cool voice of his older brother over his shoulder.

"Come I've arranged a private room for John which he will be brought to as soon as he is out of Surgery you can wait there." His brother stated and then with an assessing glance at his brother he added, "and perhaps wash up."

Sherlock became aware of the fact that his hands and pants were covered with Johns blood and at some point he had regained his scarf and was grasping it tightly in his hands. The fabric was already beginning to become rigid with the drying blood. Sherlock's eyes widened at the sight and simply stared at the offending object. In all his years as a consulting detective he had seen numerous gruesome crime scenes and none of them had ever really affected him but this was different. The realization that he was covered in John Watson's blood threw the tall genius into shock and one of the most brilliant minds on the planet simply shutdown.

The world around Sherlock began to fade into a haze as his mind retreated within itself. He felt someone gently pry the scarf from his grasp. Then slowly guide him down the hallways of the hospital. He didn't really see where he was going he smelled the disinfectant smell of the hospital and heard brief moments of the background noise of the hospital around him. Sherlock was practically in a walking comatose state of shock.

Had Sherlock been aware of anything happening around him he would have seen the brief micro-expression of concern cross his brother's features as he pulled the scarf from his hand instructing his secretary to ensure that the item was cleaned thoroughly. He then calmly guided his brother by the shoulders to the private room he had mentioned. Mycroft helped Sherlock remove his trench coat and then guided his brother to the sink in the small bathroom. Tenderly he washed the blood off of his brother's hands. Another brief micro expression of sadness crossing his face as he watched the pink water run down the sink; knowing his brother would blame himself for this accident. Mycroft knew by looking into his brother's eyes that the younger man had retreated into the safety of his mind palace in order to deal with the shock. Once his brothers hands were cleaned of blood Mycroft sat him down on the comfortable couch he had provided for the room knowing his brother would probably not leave John Watson's side once he was out of surgery. Safe in the knowledge that his brother was unaware of his surroundings and they were alone in the room Mycroft Holmes gave his little brother a soft smile and a brotherly pat to the head.

"Rest Sherl's" he whispered, "I'll take care of everything." And with that the calm cool collected face of the British Government returned and the man swept silently from he room clipboard in hand with the forms on John's medical history.

so still trying to figure out how to properly do these authors notes but I am not sure if I should leave this as a friends fic or turn it into a pre-slash let me know which you think is the better option. Also I like to believe as cool and unemotional as Mycroft acts he really does care deeply for his little brother. Hope you all like how this is going I haven't written this much since I was little I forgot how much I use to enjoy it.