Well I let myself get bogged down in trying to understand the medical diagnosis I was going to use but ended up having to abandon that because I'm not a Doctor. So I apologize if the medical information isn't very accurate in the next couple of parts. I also tried to ensure that I had a decent amount of writing to upload this time. Please review the feedback will help me decided which way to go with the story.

Nurse Karen moved efficiently through all the necessary checks and tests with John. She finished up by annotating everything on his chart and switching his IV drip to a new bag.

"Sherlock, could I speak with you for a moment outside?" Karen asked as she removed her gloves throwing them in the bin at the foot of the bed as she left the room. Sherlock followed her wearily not sure he wanted to hear what she had to say.

"As you already noticed John has lost a significant chunk of time due to his trauma. Post-traumatic amnesia is a common occurrence and often fades as a patient recovers from their coma so at the moment this is no cause for worry. However, it does mean that mentally and emotionally John is in a very fragile state. Try not to put pressure on him to remember things." She explained once they had stepped out into the hallway. "Also you were right about his vision, it appears as though he is having difficulty processing writing as well as having some spatial awareness problems. Doctor Barlow will be able to better explain the reasons for this and how rehabilitation may be able to help improve these problems. The key thing to remember is that John is going to be frustrated with his current state especially with no external wounds that he can see. As far as he understands yesterday he was a Soldier in the middle of a war zone." She paused to allow him to take in all the information.
Feeling truly vulnerable for one of the first times in a long time Sherlock opened his mouth but didn't know what to say. After a moment like that (a stunningly long amount of time for a Holmes to collect his thoughts) he asked, "What am I suppose to do? He doesn't even know who I am." Nurse Karen gave him a sad smile. "Just be there to support him and help him as he struggles to relearn who both of you are. He is even more frightened and confused than you at the moment. Feel free to page us if you need anything at all." She stated the last bit as she turned to head back to the nurses station.

He bristled a little at her presumption that he was frightened, out of his depth maybe but…o who was he kidding he was terrified. More and more it seems as if his negligence may have caused permanent damage to John Watson's mind. In his view the most important part of a person. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out before turning and heading back into the room. He hesitated for a brief second deciding if he would sit beside the bed again or on the couch. In the end he chose the couch to give John his space.

John was awake still and back to fiddling with his bedding again. An awkward silence fell over the room, which Sherlock greatly resented. Since the first day of knowing each other John and Sherlock had easily been able to share a quiet room while both working on separate tasks without the silence becoming uncomfortable.

In an attempt probably to relieve the tension of the quiet John spoke first. "So…I'm back in London then, you said St. Barth's?" He asked shifting in the bed to look at Sherlock.

"Yes," Sherlock said with a nod of his head.

"…and its actually 2010 not 2008." John added the shock regarding this fact still evident in his voice.

"Yes, its October 12 2010, well almost the 13th at this point." He said consulting his internal clock. A silence again followed both men finding themselves lost within their own thoughts, yet pressured to keep talking by the weight of the silence.

"Is the war over then?" John asked hopeful curiosity coloring his voice.

Sherlock had never really cared or thought much about foreign politics but this once he wished all the troops were home so that he didn't have to crush the hope he now saw in his friends eyes.

"No, there are still forces in Afghanistan." Sherlock answered without looking John in the eye and choosing to not mention the fact that this past year had seen the most insurgent attacks since the war began.

When Sherlock finally looked up John was giving him a curious look.

"You know I know what she talked to you about out in the hallway. I am a doctor after all." He stated raising an eyebrow expectantly.

"I am aware of your profession." Sherlock replied in an attempt to avoid the confrontation.

"She told you to be careful of causing me any emotional stress by forcing me to remember things or talking about things that I wont remember. Probably talked about how I would be struggling to cope with the loss of such a large chunk of time. Or maybe how since my last memories are from the battlefield how I might have uncovered long buried psychological traumas…well did I miss anything?" He stated the hostility clearly evident in his voice.

Sherlock was even more hesitant now to say anything sensing that John was teetering on the precipice of something and not wanting to push him over. Aiming for nonchalance he replied "Id say you were fairly spot on Doctor Watson," As he stood and moved to turn the electric kettle on. John's anger was interrupted by his curiosity.

"What are you doing?" He asked trying to sit up so that he could see what Sherlock was doing at the cabinet across the room.

"Making tea obviously, don't be dull John." Sherlock stated desperately attempting to use the force of his personality to distract John from whatever argument he had been attempting to start moments earlier.

"Tea in the face of adversity, how very British." John grumbled crossing his arms in frustration as Sherlock continued to ignore him not allowing him to continue his tirade.

"Well it is your habit of dealing with problems not mine," Sherlock stated as he placed the two teacups on the bedside table and took a seat once again in the chair by the bed.

John gave him a suspicious glance and then brought the mug to his lips to take a hesitant sip. He let out a satisfied sigh after the taste; it was exactly how he liked his tea. "This tea is perfect," John said with a slight smile as he took another liberal sip.

"Earl grey with a splash of milk and two sugars on long days." Sherlock rattled off the observation he had not even realized he had retained until he went to make the tea. He hesitantly returned John's smile and the two continued to finish their tea the silence between them a little more companionable than it had been earlier. After a couple of minutes of silence John spoke up.

"I went to take a nap after finishing my inventory." John stated out of the blue. Sherlock looked up at him expectantly waiting for him to elaborate. "The last thing I remember. I had just gotten back from a late rotation and after I finished restocking my kit bag I headed to my CHU (Compact Housing Unit) to take a nap." He explained. "It seems so strange it's as if I went to take a nap and woke up two years later with what feels like the worlds worst hangover. I just can't wrap my head around the fact that I have lost two years of my life." He added as an afterthought shaking his head slightly at what still felt like an absurd concept. Sherlock wasn't sure what to say in response he felt like any reply he would give would put pressure on John to remember something. After a moment or two John spoke again. "So where is Harry anyhow?" John asked with some confusion having just noticed the absence of his Sister. Sherlock was thankful that he had set his tea down at the moment because he wasn't sure he would have refrained from spitting the drink across the room in shock. Thankfully he settled for biting his tongue and schooling his features to remain neutral as he searched his mind for everything he knew about Harry, which was practically nothing, that he could supply John as an excuse. Finally, and rather lamely, Sherlock thought afterward he stated "She's been informed but she was in America on a business trip."

"ah" John made a non-committal noise of acknowledgement simply taking the information in. "Probably best," he added, "she would have just made fun of me the whole time for…" He paused at the end of the statement looking confused and slightly embarrassed. "Did you already tell me what I did to injure myself and end up in here?"

Sherlock swallowed against the lump in his throat. He was trying to follow nurse Karen's advice but it just felt like he was constantly being forced to lie to John. "You slipped and ended up hitting your head on the corner of a table" At least it was a half-truth this time. Sherlock reassured himself.

John let out a snort of laughter. "God I sound like an old woman, at least I didn't break my hip or something." He chuckled shaking his head in embarrassment. "I guess that explains why my shoulder feels off I must have landed on it wrong when I hit the ground." He added.

"Maybe" Sherlock replied with another twinge of guilt. Another silence fell between the two men and Sherlock felt as though the weight had increased with his guilt at…everything. He proceeded to sip his tea and avoid eye contact with John.

John's POV

John observed the stranger, or at least that's what he seemed to him, sitting in the chair by his bed. His clothing seemed very expensive and his habits and way of speaking were very posh. John really couldn't figure out what kind of connection could have brought himself and this stranger so close. He had to assume they were close; the man was waiting by his hospital bed and seemed to know him well. John couldn't figure out what kind of relationship they had? Was he a friend from the military that would explain how he met someone so clearly outside his socio-economic status. Yet, the man didn't really seem to carry himself like a Soldier. Maybe he had gotten out of the Army and Sherlock was a Doctor he worked with. Ah but he had seemed confused when I asked why he didn't give me the sedative. Who was he? He was clearly a handsome young man and it seemed strange to John that he had nowhere else to be besides sitting by his hospital bed. John was almost afraid to ask, the man seemed to be avoiding discussing himself at all. He had only distractedly given him his name and what about the way he had reacted to my grabbing of his wrist earlier? John contemplated all of this although he was stopped from following the thoughts any further when the door was pushed open and Nurse Karen came in carrying a tray with hospital food on it.

"Hi John," She said with a smile as she walked in the room. "I know it is late but I figured since you were awake we should go ahead and see if you can stomach some food." She maneuvered the hospital table from the corner so that the food was sitting in front of him and she helped him adjust his pillows so that he was sitting up a little more.

"This looks foul." Sherlock stated. He looked up to see that the man had removed the cover from his food and was poking at the food with the spork. Nurse Karen gave a disapproving look and shooed Sherlock away from the plate. The grown man then proceeded to, what could only be described as, sulk like a child, and returned to sitting on the couch with his arms crossed and occasionally directing glares at Nurse Karen. The nurse ignored the man as she took the cover off the smaller containers on the tray and throwing them in the trash. He stopped her though when she began to cut up the piece of meat on his plate into smaller pieces. He was damned if he was going to have someone treat him like a baby. He gave the nurse the old "Watson smile" and assured her that he could handle it. The Nurse gave him a smile back checked his IV line real quick and then left the two men to their silence again.

He spared a glance over at the man sprawled across the couch who was now glaring at the ceiling tiles. He couldn't help but let out a chuckle at the comical image.

"Hey mate I think you can stop trying to burn holes in the ceiling she left." John said still laughing.

"You can't honestly be planning to eat that garbage can you?" Sherlock asked incredulously.

"Hey I've never been one to turn down a free meal" He responded with a smile and a laugh. However the laughter died on his lips when he reached for the spork sitting on the tray in front of him and watched as his hand traced a jerky path through the air towards the plate seemingly oblivious of the commands he was giving it. He shot a quick glance over to Sherlock to see if he had noticed but thankfully the man was still glaring at the ceiling. It took him two more attempts before he successfully grabbed the spork. He then knew he wanted to get the utensil into the mashed potatoes but his arm was choppy in following his commands eventually making it into the potatoes after a lot of unnecessary pauses and sideways movement. He again glanced over to see if Sherlock had noticed but the man appeared to be in some kind of meditation on the couch now with his hands steepled under his chin. John was partially relieved to find that when he moved the mouthful of food to his mouth he encountered less problems, his hand was still shaky but the motion seemed closer to what he was mentally telling his muscles to do. This awkward pattern continued for two more bites until the fourth time he was maneuvering the spork to the mash potatoes his last jerky movement was too forceful and he ended up splashing the potatoes, some of it landing on his face. Running his hand down his face in frustration he angrily stated attempting to cover up his embarrassment "Alright you were right this hospital food is rubbish." He then clumsily pushed the tray away from the bed.

"Well then you are lucky that I can supply you with some contraband food then." Sherlock stated with a mischievous smirk as he sat up on the couch. John chuckled as he watched the man gracefully move across the room to the cool box and shuffle through its contents. He returned a moment later with a sandwich bag and a tubaware container with melon slices. Removing the hospital food from the tray to make room and sliding the table back in front of him again. He was slightly startled when Sherlock then proceeded to pull out the sandwich from the bag and ripping a piece of it off and proceeding to nibble at the edges of the sandwich. In response to his raised eyebrows the man simply shrugged his shoulders stating, "Well technically it is my food." As Sherlock was distracted with his part of the sandwich, He slowly maneuvered his hand to grab the food. However unlike the potatoes now that he had grabbed the sandwich he was free to eat without as much awkward or jerky movements. His hand shook some but he was sure he could pass it off as fatigue. When he finished the sandwich and was ready to eat a melon slice he was glad to see that Sherlock appeared to be distracted searching for something on his cell phone. He was again thankful that once he grabbed a slice no significant coordination was necessary to enjoy the food.

After two more melon slices he was full with a contented sigh he leaned back into the bed happy that so far his body had not reacted poorly to solid food. He could feel his body getting tired again as he allowed himself to relax back into the bed. Sherlock again grabbed another melon slice out of the container as he continued to search his phone and he wasn't sure why this action made him genuinely happy. He wondered if this man regularly shared food off of his plate? The behavior did make him seem a little less posh and a little more childish but somehow the behavior seemed right to John. He contemplated the difficulties he had faced with coordinating his movements. The medical training in him supplied Ataxia as an explanation of his symptoms and also explained why he couldn't read the chart earlier. The only question was if the problem was going to be permanent. He yawned as he pulled the blankets up around him as he thought there really wasn't much he could do about it at the moment. He fell asleep shortly after that, mumbling out a "gnight" to the man in the chair beside him before his eyes shut.

Sherlock's POV
He contemplated the swirling motion of the dregs in his mug of tea as he yet again thought about all the ways he had screwed up and caused John to be in this situation. He looked up as he heard someone fumbling with the door outside the room. He wasn't exactly happy to see nurse Karen again now that she was just another bimbo who was constantly flirting with John. Great now she is even calling him John, what happened to her professionalism, when he was in a comma he was Mr. Watson. He rolled his eyes and moved to get a closer look at what she had brought John to eat. He was definitely disappointed in the quality everything appeared to be varying shades of mashed or pureed items with an unappealing hunk of some unknown meat. He poked at one of the lumpy piles with the plastic utensil on the tray and commented, "This looks foul." His culinary judgments however were not appreciated and Nurse Karen rudely dismissed him from John's side. All he had done was attempt to look out for his friend's well being by demanding that he be served proper food. He glared at the ceiling attempting to ignore the infuriating woman's existence.

"Hey mate I think you can stop trying to burn holes in the ceiling she left." He hears John state with a laugh.

"You can't honestly be planning to eat that garbage can you?" He asks him incredulously.

"Hey I've never been one to turn down a free meal" John replies. Sherlock is about to reply that he isn't as bad as Mycroft when he is distracted by the odd jerky nature in which John's hand moves to attempt to pick up the utensil missing completely. He quickly returns to appearing to star at the ceiling knowing that John is a proud man and will want to ensure no one saw his mishap. His concern grows as he watches out of his peripheral vision as John struggle to grasp the plastic utensil. He considers the recent brain trauma information he has gathered trying to determine some way that he can help. He notices that once he has an object John has less issue with the movement of moving the food into his mouth. This gives him an idea of some better options for John to attempt to eat but he knows he cant draw attention to the actual problem or he will offend John's pride. He sees his opportunity when John finally pushes aside the hospital food. He moves to the icebox that his brother's man had brought by earlier and searches through the options there. The grapes are a definite no as well as the bag of pretzels. However he spots a sandwich and a container of thickly sliced melon and thinks that will do nicely. He realizes that the sandwich bag will be a problem but works around that by pulling out the sandwich in order to steal himself apiece. He ensures that when John goes to grab he sandwich he is sufficiently "distracted". I suppose this is one slight advantage of John not remembering who I am and what I am capable of he considers to himself. He decides then that he won't tell John his profession and talent until the man remembers or asks. He pulls out his smart phone again trying to determine what specific motor coordination problem might be affecting John. He looks up when he hears John mumble a sleepy good night to him. The man is resting again and he hopes that maybe when he wakes up next time he will remember everything. Although Sherlock is curious now when exactly John and Harry's relationship went south? He had always assumed that it had been an long term rivalry like himself and Mycroft but it appeared now that the problems between John and Harry had developed within the last two years.

Need to know the contact information for John's sister-SH

He quickly sent the text to Mycroft knowing his brother probably had the information stored away in one of his files. Sure enough Sherlocks phone buzzed with a reply within a few minutes.

020-9218-3323 Do you plan to contact her or shall I have someone possessing interpersonal skills contact her? – MH

Your wit is boundless, and no I will deal with the matter.-SH

He rolled his eyes at his brother's idea of a joke. He would wait a little while but if John didn't regain his memories he would contact Harry. John had never really talked to him about their relationship so beyond his original deductions he didn't have much detail on the situation. Perhaps this accident might give them the opportunity to mend things.