As a fair warning there is some language use in this chapter for those who are easily offended. In my view it is appropriate to the situation but I have at least warned you. If you have any suggestions or critiques please feel free to let me know. Hope you guys enjoy the chapter I tried to make it a long one this time.
Sherlock's emotional rollercoaster had only just begun and after a couple of hours his self-loathing was interrupted by the sound of John awakening again. The man in question then sluggishly rubbed at his eyes attempting to adjust to the light then moved to try and sit up. Sherlock who had been frozen waiting to see what state John would be in this time moved to help John sit up and adjust his bed. He handed him the glass of water again but was too afraid to speak. After fumbling briefly John was able to finish the glass of water using both hands to hold the glass and still spilling some water down his chin. Once he had finished his drink he began looking around the room he was in with what Sherlock wanted to believe was a more cognizant gaze. Sherlock noticed that he was still blinking a lot and rubbing his eyes so he moved to turn off one of the overhead lights still waiting on John to speak first.
After thoroughly searching the room John finally turned to Sherlock still periodically blinking and wiping at his eyes. "Could you get my chart" He stated slightly lethargically.
For a moment Sherlock simply stared back at him not fully processing the unexpected request then his brain kickstarted again and he snatched the metal clipboard off the foot of the bed presenting it to Watson to grab. The mans arm moved listlessly to grab the clipboard accidentally knocking it out of Sherlock's hand and then picking it up off of the bed.
John squinted at the paperwork, moving the clipboard closer to his face as frustration grew evident on his face. Finally he shouted, "Even for a doctor his writing is terrible and threw the clipboard onto the bedside table knocking the empty cup to the floor." Sherlock jumped at the sudden shift in volume.
The following awkward silence was broken by John asking, "What happened?" His voice back to a quite slightly lethargic tone. Sherlock bent over to grab the plastic cup placing it back on the table and returning the clipboard to its proper place.
"You were in an accident and had a bad hit to the head. You were in a coma for several hours." Sherlock stated deciding to keep things simple for now.
John nodded gently at this and brought a hand up to lightly feel the bandage on his head.
"What Hospital?" He asked after a pause.
"Your at St Baths." Sherlock supplied.
John nodded slowly with a distracted air as though he had only slightly processed the information. Then with no warning he gasped and sat up propping himself up on his elbows. His face paled for a second responding poorly to the sudden change in position but he hardly seemed to notice the drop in blood pressure.
"My unit, what happened! Are all the men alright?!" He half shouted while fixing Sherlock with a look of urgent desperation.
"You're men…I..ugh…" Sherlock stumbled over his words.
"The First Fusiliers Second Company!" John shouted becoming agitated now. "Are the lads alright!" Johns heart rate monitor was beeping considerably faster but the alarm hadn't tripped yet.
"John…the men, your men…you weren't injured in combat." Sherlock fumbled unclear on how to handle the situation.
John looked confused and then embarrassed. "Do you mean? I didn't go and get myself hospitalized while I was at the Camp did I? Sye is never going to let me live this down" He finished with exasperation collapsing back into the pillow. John shook his head chuckling.
"Who is Sye?" Sherlock asked, curiosity briefly winning out over anxiety for the moment.
"He's the Doc attached to First Company. We've been mates since my first deployment to Afghanistan. God I hope I at least have a good story on how I managed to get injured inside Camp." John stated finishing with a chuckle as he relaxed back onto the bed.
"John…" Sherlock began his voice cracking in trepidation as he returned to the matter at hand. "What is todays date."
John rolled his head over to look at Sherlock and glanced to the ceiling as he contemplated the question. He then cracked a stereotypical John smile and said laughingly, "well I did just take a hit to the head but if I had to wager I'd guess the 6th or 7th of November." He finished with a shrug.
Sherlock winced internally at the date, which was nearly a month off and continued on. "And what year is it John?"
John looked at him with a mixture of concern and confusion but answered the question non-the less. "Its 2008...…it is still 2008 right?" John asked agitation coloring his voice as the heart rate monitor again began to increase. "What day is it then?" He asked in a wavering voice looking at Sherlock with unguarded fear.
Sherlock swallowed thickly wishing a nurse or someone would show up and take over this for him. He was certain he was not helping John with this conversation and for one of the few times in his life Sherlock felt as if he was about to be overwhelmed by his emotions at any moment.
"It's the…umm, 12th of October…2010." He stuttered hating himself for the look of complete loss and confusion, which swept over Johns face at his words.
"I don't understand, I was just in my quarters inventorying my medical kit. This doesn't make any sense." John said with growing frustration.
"Where am I!" John nearly shouted as his frustration turned into anger with Sherlock.
"John I told you earlier you are at St. Barth's. You hit your head and I believe you are experiencing some memory loss." Sherlock stated trying to sound as calming as he could John's heart rate monitor was again accelerating.
"NO THIS ISNT REAL!" John shouted at Sherlock his heart rate finally reaching the point to set off the alarms. This only added to Johns disorientation and confusion and he began to try and sit up tangling himself in his bed sheets. This feeling of restraint then completely set John off and he began to shout and yell. Sherlock recognized the behavior as a waking version of one of his PTSD episodes. Sherlock attempted to approach him in a non-threatening manner and get him to calm down but was forced to grab his wrists when he began to pull at the tape holding down his IV drip.
"JOHN! Please calm down" Sherlock attempted to shout over the ravings of the other man. "I'm your friend please let me help you." Sherlock begged desperately but it was clear from the distant look in John's eyes that he was seeing a different scene than the one actually surrounding him. If there was any doubt of this fact in Sherlock's mind it was removed when John proceeded to spit in Sherlock's face and scream "FUCK YOU! WHERE ARE YOU TAKING US, YOU BETTER NOT HAVE HARMED A GOD DAMN HAIR ON ANY OF THE LADS! IM A DOCTOR YOU HAVE TO LET ME TREAT THE WOUNDED!"
Sherlock began to feel a prickling in the back of his eyes, which had not plagued him since his boyhood. Whipping the spit and promise of tears from his face he tried again. "John please, I need you to calm down its Sherlock, your friend. You're in Hospital no one is taking you anywhere. Please just relax." Sherlock begged John his voice cracking with emotion. However, it was clear his words weren't reaching John who was still thrashing around on the bed. A moment later a nurse burst through the door, prepping the syringe in his hand to administer on John. Moments after the syringe was emptied John's movements began to slow. After a few more murmured curses and protests his eyes fluttered closed and his breathing and heart rate evened out.
The nurse then fixed John's IV and checked all his vitals after finishing this he turned to Sherlock expectantly. His fear and shock must have been visible on his face however because the nurses expression quickly shifted to one of understanding and sympathy.
"Sir, a lot of patients become combative after waking from coma as a result of the disorientation and emotional instability they are experiencing. Don't take any comments he said to you personally. Just when he wakes up in a little bit after the sedative wears off go ahead and press the call button. One of the nurses will come in and help assess him and help him deal with the disorientation."
All Sherlock Holmes, the genius detective, could think to say in response was "I don't think he knows who I am anymore."
The Nurse raised a hand to offer a comforting shoulder squeeze but then dropped it. He could tell by the expression on Sherlock's face that he would rather just have some space. He quietly left the room shutting the door behind him. Sherlock blindly groped for the chair beside him and heavily collapsed into it. Desperate for some kind of reassurance he grabbed the pulse point on John's wrist. It helped somewhat to calm his nerves. John's heart rate had slowed significantly since the administration of the sedative and Sherlock idly wondered how long it would be before John awoke again and he would have to relive this torture again. He let his head fall back with a thud against the chair sighing heavily as he did so. Attempting to shut everything out he shut his eyes briefly however his overly active mind quickly supplied the vivid imagery of John cursing and spitting in his face again. Sherlock snapped his eyes open and let out an audible groin of frustration rubbing his hands over his face viciously as if he would wipe away the memory. He knew that he had told Dr. Barlow that he would be able to stick with John and help him through this but he wasn't sure he could deal with John treating him like everyone else. He imagined John harassing him in the same manner as Sally and Anderson, calling him a freak and a psychopath. The self-pity and loathing were beginning to swallow him whole when he gave his head a violent shake. No, he was not some sniveling idiot who would allow himself to wallow in self pity and doubt. He would analyze the facts and determine what solutions were possible at the moment. He began to play his cinematic quality memory again but this time with the sound and emotions deleted. He immediately noticed the frequency with which John had blinked and rubbed at his eyes. As well as the frustration John had experienced at attempting to read his chart and being unable to. This he could work with, Sherlock pulled out his phone and began to research "vision impairment problems after coma". Sherlock quickly found multiple medical sources explaining the various visual complications that can result from mild to severe brain injuries. Just like when he had researched coma symptoms the other day Sherlock found this information far from comforting. There were articles discussing the permanent loss of sight in whole quadrants of patient's fields of vision and other articles discussing the loss of some patients ability to process words on paper. Sherlock felt that more than likely John's issues fell into the simpler explanation of a loss of vision acuity or focus briefly after waking from a coma. However, that did not prevent him from feeling extremely guilty yet again for having been the cause of John being in this situation in the first place.
Sherlock was starting to lose himself in the research when a man clearing his throat grabbed his attention.
He looked up to see a rather abashed faced John looking back at him.
"about earlier…umm…when I, well…I guess that was a bit not good." John stammered embarrassedly.
Sherlock's hopes soared. Could his symptoms really have been that short term. Was his John back now! He was so excited that he had no idea what to say and just stared back at John. Uncomfortable with the silence John continued to talk.
"Well I guess some of my memory is working," John said smiling and then his smile faltered as he thought of something. "That was just earlier right when you told me I had been hit in the head you know before I…had an...episode." John asked the fear evident in his voice as he faded out to a mumble on the last portion of the question.
"Yes, your observation was correct John you have just awoken from the sedative the nurse gave you." Sherlock said with a smirk trying to initiate their old banter. John only gave him a curious look however and tilted his head.
"Yea about that, why didn't you just give me a sedative before I got to that level of …agitation." John asked with some confusion.
"I'm not authorized to administer you a sedative." Sherlock stated with just as much confusion.
John squinted at him incredulously. "What kind of doctor isn't authorized to administer a simple sedative? Am I being treated with psychotherapy or something." John finished his voice showing a hint of disdain for that particular profession.
Sherlock was struck mute. What little hope had been growing that John had regained some recollection of who he was completely deteriorated. In retrospect he could see how his mind had completely disregarded the evidence in front of him that John hadn't miraculously recovered. All he could do was stare back at the injured man with his own pain shinning back in his eyes.
John who had always been an empathetic individual noticed in an instant. "What's wrong, what have I said. I was only kidding about the psychotherapy thing. You know the old rivalry of professions." John began to mumble attempting to fix the emotional pain with no idea how he had caused it. After a moment of silence Sherlock gathered himself into action again.
"I should call the nurse now he said to notify him when you awoke again." Sherlock stated getting up and walking around to the other side of John where the call button was located.
"Wait," John said grabbing Sherlock's hand before he could grab the call button. Sherlock's nerve endings sparked at the sensation, the room labeled John, which he had spent so much effort deleting earlier exploded back into existence in his mind. Sherlock briefly shut his eyes against the sudden and confusing flood of emotions. When he opened his eyes again the ever-empathetic John must have seen some element of the emotion because he gave Sherlock an apologetic look and hesitantly released his wrist.
"Please tell me who you are?" John asked. Sherlock was distracted as he tried to again suppress the unwanted emotions and didn't acknowledge the question.
"Please," John asked again. "I won't freak out like earlier." he added with a self-deprecating chuckle.
Internally Sherlock was finding it impossible this time to completely delete his emotional attachment to John and decided that for the moment he would simply have to settle for suppressing the associated emotions. As he finished with this task he looked outward to see John give him an awkward chuckle and an expectant look.
"Sorry what was that?" Sherlock asked distractedly. John again gave him a concerned look and said "I was asking who you were?"
"Sherlock Holmes" He returned still distractedly, pressing the call button and then pressing it again when none of the lights turned on to give him feedback if the button worked.
"I'll just go look for a nurse myself shall I?" He stated jumping at the opportunity to get some space to deal with the confusing swirl of emotions in his head. He then swept out of the room too quickly for John to voice a complaint.
As he strode off down the hallway he replayed the memory of John grasping his hand. Why had he had such a strong emotional response to such a simple stimulus? It wasn't as though John had never touched his hand before. He himself had grabbed John's hand on multiple occasions in order to drag him off in the correct direction when chasing a criminal. Why had this been any different?
Sherlock was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't see Nurse Karen and almost walked straight into her.
"Mr. Holmes is your friend awake is that why the call button was pressed?" Karen asked helpfully. "Michael mentioned that he had told you to call us the next time he woke up."
"Yes, I couldn't tell if the call button was working." Sherlock answered briskly turning to follow her back to Johns room. Then remembering his analysis from earlier added, "I believe he is having some vision problems you need to check his acuity and range of vision."
Karen gave a smirk, which Sherlock didn't see from behind her, but she still answered in a sympathetic voice. "I will be sure to give him the full battery of tests to ensure we don't overlook anything. Dr. Barlow will also be by in the morning and will double check those tests." The nurse finished as they reached Johns door again.
They found the injured doctor still awake and playing idly with the frayed ends of his hospital blanket. He looked up with interest as the two entered his room.
"Hi John, My name is Amanda Karen and I will be your nurse during the night. How are you feeling?" She said with a gentle but non-patronizing tone.
"Well the head hurts a bit" John said with a self-conscious smile and a chuckle.
Nurse Karen smiled back, "Well that is probably to be expected."
She then began to examine John and the two of them kept up a kindhearted banter. It was the sort of sympathetic give in take, which, Sherlock guessed, is only possible between two people who have such companionate personalities. Sherlock decided, he didn't like it, and slumped into the couch to sulk watching intently as the examination continued.