A/N: Sorry guys I tried to keep the story non committal on the whole JohnLock thing but I couldn't do it. The story just seems to be writing itself in that direction. To those that are interested in those kind of stories hurray read on and enjoy what I hope will be an emotional roller-coaster.

Mycroft realized that considering how busy a man he was he probably should have just tasked an assistant with delivering the laptop bag with cell phone and chargers to Sherlock. However, he was also curious to see what further effects the injury of John Watson had caused in his brother. He would be lying if he didn't admit that it had shaken even him watching Sherlock go into shock like that after arriving at the hospital. He hoped that the good doctor pulled through quickly with no lasting damage because he honestly had no idea how his little brother might respond otherwise.

Mycroft paused briefly as he reached Dr. Watson's private room, bracing himself to deal with whatever state he found Sherlock in on the other side. As he quietly opened the door however, he was pleasantly surprised. It would have even been possible for one with a Holmes-ian eye for detail to notice the faintest of smiles play across his face. Before him sat his little brother slumped forward with his elbows on his knees and his head pillowed in one hand on the mattress while the other propped up his chin. Dr. Watson had rolled over on his side at some point and had shifted his body near Sherlock's in an instinctual search for warmth.

Mycroft quietly placed the laptop bag onto the couch and pulled out his own cellphone from his pocket. This time with a clearly visible and slightly mischevious smile he took a photo of the two flat mates. Then, knowing Sherlock's cellphone had died and wouldn't ring until he plugged it in he sent the following texts.

You two look comfortable :) [Pic] –MH

Also call Mrs. Hudson she attempted to badger me with a thousand questions while I was at your residence. - MH

He briefly skimmed the clipboard at the foot of Dr. Watson's bed detailing his medical treatment. Observing that a note referencing in-hospital rehabilitation had been added he took a look around the room then sent a text to his secretary.

Have someone bring an electric kettle, some tea, a blanket, a pillow, and some food to Saint Barth's Hospital room 293. –MH

Having completed his brotherly duties he pocketed his phone and left the room swinging his umbrella as he left.

Sherlock felt himself being slowly drawn back to consciousness. The first thing he became aware of was the sensation of something gently scratching at his scalp and in his half conscious state he found himself leaning in to the feeling. Next he was aware of the sounds that were surrounding him. There was a rhythmic beeping and whirring noise as well as what sounded like mumbling. With the strong odor of disinfectant and freshly bleached bedding filling his nose his mind began to fully surface as he remembered he was in John's ICU room at the hospital.

Wait is John playing with my hair! Sherlock thought with a start as his genius mind fully surfaced from sleep. He cracked one eye open, not really wanting whoever it turned out to be, to stop the soothing ministrations to his scalp. He couldn't help the giant grin that spread across his face as he took in the situation.

At some point while Sherlock was sleeping John had rolled over on his side curling around where Sherlock had his head resting on the mattress. Still in his minimally conscious state his right hand had found its way to Sherlock's hair. Based on the last understandable mumblings that the detective had over heard of '…good dog…' his curly mop of black hair was playing the role of a childhood pet in John's dream. Chuckling to himself lightly, unsure if he should be insulted or not, Sherlock allowed the calming sensation to continue. He almost looks younger than me like this, all innocent and relaxed his boyish features are even more prominent Sherlock noted finding himself admiring his friends face and enjoying the warm sensation radiating through his body as a result of the feather light scratches to his scalp. I wonder if subconsciously he knows that it's my hair he is playing with? Sherlock thought to himself curiously. I hope he does. Was the almost immediate response from the emotional part of Sherlock's mind which he was constantly trying to deny existed.

Oh. I am an idiot! Sherlock berated himself. He suddenly found himself in his mind palace standing in the middle of the 'Analyze later' room. There was now a common thread neatly connecting all of the rooms contents and it was labeled John. This is definitely 'not good' and this is the worst possible time to realize this. I have no other option but to delete these dangerous feelings and return to my previous ignorance. He thought with a sense of certainty. Actually, I wonder if I have not already made this realization once before and deleted the emotions then as well. It would explain how I managed to miss something as significant as this. He postulated to himself. Yet, as he struggled to return his stronger than necessary emotional attachments to John back to the basement of his mind palace he made no effort to move away from the other man's hand. Thus, eventually the soothing pressure to his scalp began to pull him back into unconsciousness.

Sherlock woke again as a nurse came in to check on John.

"Oh sorry I didn't mean to wake you just doing a quick checkup." The nurse whispered as she noticed Sherlock lifting his head off of the bed. Waving away her concern Sherlock stood and stretched his long frame groining as his spine popped protesting against the hunched position he had slept in. Noting the lap top bag on the couch he moved to plug in his cell phone and pull out his laptop. He quickly left the objects and returned to John's bedside when he heard the nurses overly sweet voice exclaim. "Good Dr. Watson now try and stay awake for me, just for a few minutes."

John was wearily blinking his eyes his pupils lazily searching the room struggling to focus. "Now I want you to try and lift your arm Dr. Watson." The nurse continued in a slow deliberate voice. Johns eyes slowly moved to focus on the nurse a slight squint of his eyes wrinkling his face. Then as the nurse repeated her request for the second time Sherlock glimpsed understanding cross John's face. After a second his left hand slowly lifted about 10cm off the bed before collapsing back again. "Good job Dr. Watson. I know your probably confused but you are at St. Barths Hospital. You had an accident." She explained simply. "Your head is probably going to hurt quite a bit and you might have difficulty remembering things. Don't let that frustrate you though, its perfectly natural for someone coming out of a coma." She continued kindly but it was clear John was struggling to maintain his focus on the woman and his eyelids were beginning to droop. Not wanting to miss his chance to make his presence known Sherlock quickly stepped up beside the bed. "John, its me Sherlock, I just…I wanted to…" Sherlock started unsure of what to say after he started. "I wanted you to know I'll be right here, if you need anything" he finished lamely after a pause. The other man squinted at Sherlock with the same look of confusion he had given the nurse earlier. However, before any look of understanding appeared this time John's eyes were closed again, losing his struggle against sleep.

"Just give him a little more time." The nurse told Sherlock with a pitying smile. He really was beginning to hate the nursing staff as a result of those smiles. It was as if they thought the slightest amount of bad news and Sherlock might just crumble like a piece of fragile glass. If they weren't necessary for John's recovery Sherlock would be tempted to abuse his brother's authority and have them all banned from John's room. After the nurse had left he sat back down in the chair beside John's bed his hand moving to grasp John's pulse point. Sherlock had come to the conclusion that given John's current state he ran no risk of aggravating John, especially given how unaware of his surroundings the man currently was. However, as he felt the steady thrum of John's heart beat and felt the warm flush the sensation brought to his own skin he knew he had not managed to delete his emotional epiphany from earlier. Slowly as if of its own volition his hand moved from John's wrist down to entwine his fingers with the doctors. The flush to his skin increased and Sherlock felt his own heart rate increase within his chest. He closed his eyes to simply enjoy the sensation for a moment. He began to slowly circle his thumb on the back of John's hand as thousands of questions circled his mind. Sherlock was brought back to the present with startling speed when a quiet mumble from John caused him to retract his hand quickly and distance himself from the bed. His heart was racing with fear and he felt as though he had just been caught in the act of some terrible crime. When he raised his eyes to look at John again he saw the man's eyes were still shut. How could I have allowed myself to become so emotionally dependent on another person. Sherlock thought with self loathing. He couldn't yet bring himself to use any other kind of descriptive words for the emotion he was feeling. Sherlock relaxed some, realizing that John had not woken up. He buried his face in his hands letting out a long frustrated sigh and wondering what he was going to do when John was fully conscious and realized that Sherlock had become emotionally attached to him. John may not have the great detectives skills of deduction when it came to a crime scene but the good doctor was highly skilled at matters regarding physical and emotional health. Running his fingers through his hair in frustration he moved back to the couch to turn on his cellphone desperate to find some kind of distraction from this emotional struggle he seemed unable to delete.

His phone buzzed as it turned on informing him that he had several messages.

Sherlock is John alright! I just stopped by Baker Street and Mrs. Hudson was a mess. -GL

Realizing he probably should have given the poor woman an update by now Sherlock quickly sent her a text.

John is going to be alright he just needs to stay at the hospital for a while in order to fully recover. -SH

He sent the same text to Lestrade adding that he would not be able to help out much with his case but if he wanted he could bring the file to John's hospital room for him to look over. The next message that Sherlock had received was from Mycroft and had a picture attached. Opening the picture Sherlock let out a sigh of irritation at his older brother quickly typing out a reply in response.

Do not use emoticons brother they do not suit you. -SH

However, when he moved to delete the photo he could not bring himself to do so instead moving to check the other message from his brother and then closing his phone. Besides why would John ever go through the pictures on Sherlock's phone. A moment later Sherlock's thoughts were pulled away from the subject as his phone began to buzz in his hand.

I am sorry that this is happening now but we really need your help on this case would it be possible to bring the file by this afternoon? I can bring Mrs. Hudson as well she seemed really worried about you two. –GL

Sherlock only took a moment to contemplate this realizing that he needed a distraction from these emotions that refused to remain deleted.

Yes that's fine. John is in room 293 at St. Barth's. -SH