AN/: Sorry for the delay in the updates but with everything that is going to be going on soon I thought it would be a good idea to create more of an outline before continuing much further. I hope you all enjoy the next chapters.
"What could Mycroft possibly want now!" Sherlock shouted in response to the prim short knock to the door. Then he quickly glanced over at John to see if his shouting had stirred the man at all. He thought he saw a slight frown cross his features, the one that generally accompanied his admonishing looks of Not good Sherlock, but he shook his head dismissing it as related to his frustratingly emotional state at the moment.
"Mr. Holmes may I come in," replied the man on the other side of the door in a Posh accent.
"Yes, yes the doors open don't be unnecessarily proper with me I'm not Mycroft." Sherlock said exasperatedly splayed out on the couch.
"Well actually Mr. Holmes my hands are quite full if you wouldn't mind assisting me with the door." The man responded with a light chuckle in his voice.
With a put upon sigh Sherlock leaned over the arm of the couch and threw the door open.
The man really did have his hands full he was carrying a small cool box in one hand with a large blanket slung over the arm and a pillow tucked underneath. In the other hand he grasped an electric kettle with a tuberware container full of tea pressed to his chest with the same arm. The man shuffled into the room and began placing the items on the counter across from the bed. Removing two mugs wrapped in a tea towel from inside the kettle the man turned to face Sherlock.
"Would you like a cup of tea and a sandwich Mr. Holmes? Your brother has asked me to ensure that you consume some sustenance before I leave." The man stated.
Sherlock squinted at the man. "Given that most of my brothers employees are well aware of my personality the fact that you are here on this assignment means that you are either trying desperately to gain my brothers favor or you have done something to profoundly annoy my brother but are valuable enough not to fire." Sherlock rattled off while continuing to gather more data from the man's appearance. After a moment he concluded, "Ah the later then, well in that case…" He said with a smile moving to open the cool box and pulling out a singular grape. He tossed the piece of fruit in his mouth and crushed it with his teeth. "You can now inform my brother that you watched me eat some fruit without him being able to catch you in a lie." Sherlock said with a smirk. The man returned Sherlock's smile, "Well I will allow you to return to your friend then, good afternoon Mr. Holmes." The man said with a nod turning to leave the room.
"Oh by the way," Sherlock added as the man reached the door, "please feel free to continue with what ever action of yours caused my brother so much irritation." The man chuckled as he shut the door behind himself.
When Sherlock turned and was reminded of the state that John was in the smirk fell from his face. I miss John's smile. The thought randomly popped into Sherlock's mind and it startled him with its level of emotional intensity. It seemed as though now that his mind had connected the dots regarding John the frequency with which he experienced these emotional moments seemed to be increasing. He began to pace the room again in frustration.
A few minutes later he froze mid step in response to the groan he heard from the bed behind him. When he turned he was startled to see John sluggishly struggling to sit up. He rushed to his friend's side gently applying pressure to his shoulder to get him to lie back down again.
"Calm down John you don't need to be sitting up just yet." Sherlock said in as calming a voice as he could muster while he internally suppressed his body's response to the spike in adrenaline it was receiving at seeing John so active. His heart skipped a beat though when John began to talk in a gravely unused voice.
"Beldon mate why did you let me sleep in, you know Staff Sergeant is going to kill me if I'm late for parade again." John half slurred.
Sherlock was confused he had no idea what John was talking about or who he thought he was talking to.
"John your in hospital," He attempted to explain. However, John continued as if he didn't hear him.
"…can't be late going to get a Platoon Commander's Warning..." He started to try and sit up again swatting weakly at Sherlock's hand on his shoulder.
"John!" Sherlock shouted this time waiting as the disoriented man's eyes slowly moved to look at Sherlock blinking for a moment in confusion.
"Your not Beldon," John said dumbly, "and I'm not in my barracks?" he added looking around the room in confusion.
"That's what I was trying to tell you, you're in hospital." Sherlock said sitting back in the chair by the bed so that he wasn't towering over John.
"hospital…huh…" John repeated not quite sounding as though he understood. The room grew quite as John simply stared up at the roof as if still confused by his situation. Sherlock was at a loss for what to say all of the conversations that he had thought of while John lay in his coma seemed to have just vanished. Then suddenly John sat up with startling speed considering his condition.
"I can't be in hospital they will put me in Lucknow Platoon, I need to get back to training. We were in the middle…of…of…" John started out shouting then slowly faded off as he slumped back in the bed. His sudden upward movement had caused him to grow faint and Sherlock could see his face paling slightly.
"Beldon I think I'm .. take a nap..." John mumbled as his eyes slowly shut and he was once again asleep.
Sherlock who had stood up again when John had sat up so suddenly now starred at his friend in shock and fear. His mind had pieced together the terminology John had been using and realized that he had thought he was back at Sandhurst. Based off of Sherlock's estimates on when John had joined the officer corps that meant John had believed it was about a decade earlier than it was.
Attempting to quell the rising fear and despair in the pit of his stomach Sherlock reminded himself that the Doctor had mentioned John would be confused and disoriented for a couple of days no matter what. Taking a deep breath he maintained control over his rising emotions. Standing he moved over to the counter to fix a cup of tea. He allowed his mind to focus wholly on the task of preparing the cup of tea. He chuckled when he realized that he was utilizing John's method of coping with stress. The man truly had a profound impact on his life. He allowed himself to get lost for a moment in his happy memories of John; preparing him tea just the way he liked it without him having to ask for some, pestering him about eating regularly, carefully stitching up his cuts from having to subdue a suspect. The man had always been constantly fussing over Sherlock's health and well being. This thought gave him pause, could it be that John was interested in Sherlock as well. Sipping his mug of tea he turned to look at John with a look of hope and longing briefly moving across his face before he returned to a look of neutrality. Placing his mug on the bedside table he collapsed back into the chair next to John's bed with a heavy exhale. Get a hold of yourself; this is why sentiment is dangerous John has stated on multiple occasions that he isn't gay. Why would he have had reason to lie? As Sherlock thought this his mind palace supplied him with a flash of his first dinner with John at Angelo's.
-FLASH BACK-
"You don't have a girlfriend then?"
"Girlfriend…no…not my area."
"…alright…do you have a boyfriend, which is fine by the way."
"I know its fine." (He had never felt shame over the fact that before he had chosen to treat his body purely as transport he had found himself attracted only to males.)
John was smiling his teeth showing but it looked almost forced. "…so you've got a boyfriend." (had that been disappointment on his face or simply discomfort at the conversation topic?)
"No"
"right…ok…" John let out a relieved sigh combined with a chuckle. "Your unattached just like me" John subconsciously licked his lips as he finished this statement. "…fine, good." (lip licking can sometimes be a subconscious display of the desire to kiss someone he contemplated or was he simply seeing what he wanted to see in retrospect?)
(It had been at this point the first time around that Sherlock had even thought about the possibility that his new flat mate might be romantically interested.)
"John…umm, I think you should know that I consider myself married to my work and while I'm flattered by your interest I" (His response had been honest at the time he was not interested in anything outside of his work but so much had changed since he made that statement.)
"No…No " John stuttered while swallowing his food and shaking his head as though struggling to find a way to deal with the situation. " No I'm not asking… No I'm not interested…" John repeated himself the second time with more conviction. Sherlock with little experience in dealing with others romantic interest accepted that he had been mistaken in his conclusions with little difficulty. (Although as he looked back at the memory a second time he had to wonder if John had been attempting to protect himself emotionally after realizing that Sherlock had essentially said there was no way he would ever be interested in him.)
-FLASH BACK-
Was it possible that Sherlock had been correct on his initial deduction of John's bi-sexuality and interest in him that day and simply miscalculated the effect his rejection would have on John. What if John had continually insisted on pretending he wasn't bi-sexual in order to help keep his own emotions in check choosing to have a platonic relationship with Sherlock rather than no relationship at all. Or perhaps, and rather Sherlock suspected, was he creating a plausible fiction to believe in as a result of his current realization of his own interest in John. Steeple-ing his fingers under his chin Sherlock returned to his mind palace to continue rehashing memories of their time together over the last couple of years. He wished not for the first time that he was more adept at interpreting peoples emotional states and motivations in maters not pertaining to crimes. His cup of tea grew cold, forgotten as the genius racked his mind for answers to the mystery that is John Watson.