Mycroft Holmes gingerly sipped at the tea on his desk while he looked over the file his assistant had brought him. It was the latest update on Dr. John Watson's recovery. It appeared as though the good Doctors recovery was going to take some time given the amnesia and ataxia. He worried about Sherlock, he had never seen the younger man in the state that he was in when John Watson was first admitted to the hospital. He was going to have to rely on Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson to watch out for his brother until John could remember their friendship again. He knew any kind of meeting of his with Dr. Watson to discuss Sherlock's 'Danger Days' would likely threaten the friendship at least until Watson remembered more of his past. Mycroft had decided all of this, moments after completing his scan of the medical records; but he continued to stare at the file because a particular date mentioned had caught his eye and he was trying to determine why his mind had thought it significant. According to Dr. Barlow's notes John Watson could not remember anything having occurred before the morning of the 6th of November 2008. He continued to stare at the file for a moment longer before inspiration struck him. He pulled out a key unlocking a file cabinet at the base of his desk and flipping through the files tell he found a particular one. He had only ever looked at this file briefly once before and he took a second to recall the surprising memory associated with the event.
[flashback*** the night after John shoots the cabbie. John is out, having gone back to his old apartment to pack his things]
"Why are you here Mycroft, I just saw you last night? I feel I shouldn't have to be subjected to your presence two days in a row." Sherlock stated as Mycroft opened the door and entered the flat. The Detective didn't even turn around just continued to stare out the window and hold his violin underneath his chin. "As I said last night brother, I worry about you." Mycroft replied as he casually strolled across the room to stand behind Sherlock. "Also given your company last night I couldn't exactly give you this information then." He concluded as he placed a file onto the coffee table beside where Sherlock stood. The label on the file read 'CPT Watson, John H.'. The younger Holmes simply ignored him and proceeded to play 'Pop Goes the Weasel' on his violin. Giving an exasperated sigh and a roll of his eyes Mycroft tried again. "The man is just back from combat Sherlock, there will be…emotions. Perhaps you should fully understand what you're getting involved in." "I am aware of the PTSD Mycroft and I have already cured him of his psychosomatic limp so I fail to see the purpose of this visit." Sherlock said in a bored tone still playing the annoying nursery rhyme. "Just providing you with more information brother of mine, I know how loathed you are to reason with insufficient data." Mycroft replied with a twirl of his umbrella as he turned to leave the room. He was stopped however as he reached the door handle. "Mycroft," His brother stated stopping his violin playing. "I believe you have forgotten your file." Mycroft's mask of indifference slipped for a moment at this surprising turn of events. His brother would whine and complain at Mycroft's meddling but he had never before turned down additional information on a contact. Instead he used it as an opportunity to validate his deduction skills and see if he could figure out things that Mycroft's people could not. Slowly Mycroft turned to collect the file and gave his brother a curious look as he did so. "It seems the good doctor is not the only one affected by this new living arrangement." He stated as he turned to leave for a second time. Sherlock simply ignored him and proceeded to play the nursery rhyme again but in a different key.
"As Mycroft paged through the file it only took a few minutes to find the information that had been tickling at the back of his mind ever since he read the medical report. There on the summary of events regarding CPT John Watson's second deployment to Afghanistan read the lines: "7 November 2008 – CPT Watson declared MIA after the SRR base he was assigned to was overrun. 11 December 2008 – CPT Watson and surviving members of SRR element regain contact.
"It would seem that if Dr. Watson was going to get his memories back he may be forced to properly address the trauma that likely occurred during those 34 days. Given the fact that he remained in theater for an additional four months after recovering from the incident, it is likely that he never appropriately addressed the issue and now with his recent brain trauma his mind has seized on the opportunity to completely repress the memories. This would surely make Dr. Watson's recovery so much more…complicated. Quickly determining what needed to be done Mycroft returned the file to its drawer and paged his secretary.
"John woke up to the sound of violin music, it was still rather somber but it had an undercurrent of happiness and that made him smile slightly. A little later the nurse came in with breakfast consisting of oatmeal, soupy looking eggs and a circular patty of breakfast sausage.
"Sherlock took one look at the meal and determined that this hospital was full of imbeciles. He then decided that he might want to murder a few of them when he saw the look of absolute defeat that John gave the food before casting furtive glances towards Sherlock as he put up his violin. Not wishing to draw out John's suffering unnecessarily Sherlock quickly moved over and pulled the bedside tray away and off to the side. "Hey!" John shouted out in protest although his eyes betrayed his relief at not having to feel like an infant, incapable of feeding himself. "I can't in good conscience allow you to eat that." Sherlock stated with a shrug as he moved over to the tin of baked goods from Mrs. Hudson and tossed a large banana nut muffin into Johns lap.
"I can assure you Mrs. Hudson's cooking will always outshine hospital food. Although, I suppose that's not saying much." Sherlock stated as he moved to the couch gracefully collapsing into a cross-legged position and pulling his laptop out checking through his emails for case requests that he could work on from the Hospital. "Mhh that is good" John said through a mouthful of muffin with a giant grin on his face. After a couple more bites he gave Sherlock a quizzical look. "Aren't you going to eat anything?" He asked realizing the man had only eaten a few stolen bits of his food yesterday during lunch.
"Initially Sherlock didn't even answer his question. However, when John asked the question again Sherlock gave him a dismissive hand wave. "No need, working John" He added distractedly as he typed out a stream of deductions in reply to a ridiculously obvious case request.
"Sherlock as your Doctor I'm ordering you to eat something!" John commanded the force and cadence of the sentence rolling off his tongue like it was a habitual request. Sherlock's head snapped up in response to that sentence, "John…?" He asked with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. John smirked and rubbed the back of his neck, "why do I get the feeling that I have to say that sentence to you a lot." He asked with a chuckle.
"Well you are a very persistent Doctor at times," Sherlock said springing up from the couch to collect the container of grapes from the chill box before returning to his seat. He then proceeded to happily toss grapes into his mouth, giving John a large toothy grin as he did.
"John nearly blushed at the gorgeous smile the other man directed at him as he ate the grapes. John couldn't help but return the giant smile; he had remembered something finally. Albeit had been nothing concrete just a flash of senses the smell of cooking bacon and eggs and the memory of yelling that very same sentence in reply to a distracted Sherlock refusing to eat.
"After finishing their respective breakfasts Sherlock returned to checking his email and John discovered the remote to the telly hidden amongst the clutter on the bedside table. Sherlock bit the inside of his cheek to keep from making comments about the programming. He was afraid if he displayed his deductive skills to John too soon before he remembered enough he might scare John away this time around.
I'm going to need to bring up what I do soon though, what if John remembers a crime scene before he remembers us as friends. He will think I'm a crazed psychopath.He was just so scared that this time when John heard him deduce he would no longer find it brilliant and would tell him to 'Piss Off' just like all the rest. He sighed mentally and tried to tune out the crap telly as best he could. The two passed a couple of hours like that before two nurses came in to take John for the CT scan that Dr. Barlow had mentioned the day before.
John returned from the scan in a foul mood. Whatever the contrast material was that they had injected him with for the scan was giving him a pounding headache and the nurses had been treating him as though he were slow explaining each individual step that they were going to preform even after he had told them that he was a Doctor and didn't need an explanation. As the nurses left the room he looked over at the couch to see that Sherlock appeared to be in the exact same place on the couch he had been in when he left still typing furiously on his laptop. The incessant clacking of the keyboard seemed to be getting louder in volume as John's headache worsened.
"Must you type so loudly!" He snapped rubbing at his temples.
Startled, Sherlock looked up and gave John a quick once over.
"Ah perhaps it would be best if I sought out a nurse to increase your pain medication." Sherlock stated placing the laptop down beside him on the couch.
"No, that's not necessary it's just a bit of pressure it will go away in a few minutes." John replied tersely.
"John, if you are experiencing increased cranial pressure I need to alert the nursing staff it could…" Sherlock started moving to press the call button attached to John's bed but he was interrupted by Johns angry response. "Damn the pain medication! I am not an idiot and if I'm not mistaken I am the Doctor out of the two of us. It is just pressure from the contrast and if I feel I need additional medical attention. I will. Let. You Know." John stated forcefully emphasizing each word of the final sentence.
"A heavy silence fell over the room after that with John rubbing at his temples still and Sherlock shifting awkwardly from foot to foot unsure how to proceed with the situation.
"After a couple of minutes like that John let out a heavy sigh as he laid back on the bed.
"Look, I'm sorry. I'm just stressed is all," John said turning his head to look at Sherlock. "Just go ahead and sit." John said nodding towards the chair by his bed. Then seeing Sherlock still hesitate, he chuckled mirthlessly and said, "Hey I promise not to try and bite your head off again just take a seat."
Sherlock nodded his head siting down and running a nervous hand through his hair. This is one of those emotionally charged moments, when he would normally have looked to John for guidance on what he had said wrong, but that wasn't an option now. "So did they tell you the results of your scan?" Sherlock asked attempting to break the silence.
"No the technician will likely go over the scans with Dr. Barlow before they make any kind of conclusions." John answered.
The silence returned and Sherlock scanned the room looking for something to break the tension and demonstrate he could be a good friend to John. His eyes landed on the chart hanging from the foot of the bed.
"Would you like me to read your chart to you." He asked John hesitantly. He knew that John didn't want to address the fact that his eyes couldn't focus on the writing on the pages, but at the same time he also knew that John was desperate for information and a sense of control. Sherlock deduced that his desire to have some control over his medical information would rule out over the dislike of needing someone to read to him.
"It would probably be best if you checked over their procedures since given the food they keep trying to feed you I'm not entirely certain they aren't trying to kill you." Sherlock added with an air of conspiracy to his voice, calculating that a little humor would help John accept the help. As usual his calculations were correct. John chuckled in response to the joke, "go ahead then, lets see what the damage is." Sherlock noted that John was rigid with tension, as though he was waiting to be dealt a blow. Although John wanted to know the information on his chart he was afraid to hear the reality of his situation laid out in medical jargon he would be unable to deny.
After moving to grab the chart Sherlock made a gesture of scanning the top row or so of information. "Ah well there seems to be some hope for them yet, it appears as though they were able to successfully categorize you as a 34 year old male Caucasian weighing 10.8 Stone and 174cm" Sherlock stated with a sarcastic nod of stern approval reading the information as though it were a revelation.
"You ridiculous git, just read the chart." John said with a full on laugh this time, letting himself relax back into the pillows. Sherlock gave himself a self-satisfied smile before proceeding. His smile faded as he reached notes regarding John's initial condition upon arrival to the hospital but he maintained a neutral voice knowing that John as a medical man needed to know the information. John closed his eyes as he listened to the rich baritone voice read to him. He emotionally took a step back and viewed his medical case as an unbiased medical professional. It took Sherlock about a half hour to read through the several pages of notes and charts due to regularly stopping to provide John with a requested chart read out or to return to an earlier note. When they had finished with the chart John knew nothing had really changed but he felt a little less dependent and vulnerable. He took several minutes to just mull over the information Sherlock had provided him. He considered various options that could have and were taken with his treatment deciding if it was for the best. He determined that for the most part he was in agreement on the manner in which Dr. Barlow and Dr. Reid (the Surgeon who had preformed the initial surgery) had handled his case. Feeling satisfied that "1" his medical care was adequate and "2" he still maintained the ability to understand and process medical information he let out a satisfied sigh as he relaxed further into the bed. He probably would have taken a short nap if his bladder hadn't begun to protest. He supposed it was his own fault since he had convinced one of the nurses to remove his catheter after his CT scan because it just felt aggravating, but he really hadn't thought about the logistics of getting himself to the bathroom on the other side of the room. He contemplated calling a nurse but he knew that would seem insulting to Sherlock who had honestly been nothing but caring and supportive for the short amount of time John could remember with him. Besides given his history in sports and the military having a friend help him limp across the room didn't seem as embarrassing as being unable to feed oneself.
"…uhh Sherlock, could I ask you one more favor?" John asked while rubbing the back of his neck.
"Of course John, what is…ah bathroom, of course one moment" Sherlock said placing his laptop down on the couch and moving to help John.
"Yea, wait how did you know?" John asked scrunching his eyebrows in confusion.
"You had them remove your catheter while you were getting your CT scan done." Sherlock answered distractedly as he moved Johns right arm over his neck to ensure that he didn't force the injured left shoulder out of its range of flexibility. He placed his left hand on the small of Johns back to help him balance and crouched slightly to accommodate the shorter man. As John focused all of his attention on attempting to walk with as close to a normal gait as he could manage he was distracted from continuing the conversation. The two men made slow progress across the room with John being forced to take wide steps and half dragging his left foot. After maneuvering the door open with his free hand Sherlock looked to John silently asking him exactly how much help/or privacy he wanted.
"If you could just help me to the railing by the toilet I should be good." John said in response to the silent question. Sherlock simply gave a nod of his head and helped John shuffle the last couple steps into the room. John could sense Sherlock's hesitancy to let him go. He figured he was worried that the railing might not be enough for him to maintain his balance. "Its fine, I'm pretty sure I remember how to do this." John said with a chuckle trying to alleviate some of the unease of the situation. "Sorry, right of course." Sherlock said as he backed out of the room.
Sherlock leaned back against the door after closing it behind himself letting out a shaky exhale. These emotions of his were getting out of control. The craving for physical contact had never been so strong for him before. If he didn't maintain his control he was going to completely scare John away. There had been a brief moment when John looked down to focus on his legs, which caused his breath to tickle lightly along Sherlock's collarbone. The movement had also placed John's hair beneath his nose providing him with a heady aroma that was purely John. At that instant the thought had flashed across his mind to allow his hand to drift lower along Johns backside and pull him in closer to his side so that he could simply breath in the delicious smell of him and maybe even kiss him. The same impulse had made him hesitant to even release John once they had arrived at their destination. Maybe he was a psychopath, he was plotting to try and take advantage of his hospitalized and very straight friend.
On the other side of the bathroom door after dealing with the call of nature and carefully maneuvering to lean on the counter top of the sink John stared at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was disheveled and sticking out at weird angles from the bandage around his head. However, that wasn't really what he was thinking about. I feel like a bloody teenager again. He could still feel the warmth from where Sherlock's hand had rested on the small of his back and the sides of his hips had brushed lightly against his own. He had even had to duck his head for a moment while they where walking in order to hide the slight blush that had crept to his cheeks. Perhaps it would be best if he just confronted Sherlock about his realization regarding their relationship. Then they could kiss and maybe it would trigger his memories to return and... John stared at his reflection and stuck his tongue out. Yea and then the two of you would live happily ever after like in a fucking fairy tale. He rolled his eyes at the stupidity and foolish schoolgirl fantasy of his thoughts and moved to wash his hands. No I still feel all my old anxiety's about being outed and if I confront him before I remember how I got over that then he will want to treat me like his husband in public and I wont be able to deal with that and it would probably be far worse for him to see rejection in my eyes than just a lack of memory. He gave himself a little nod of affirmation before letting Sherlock know that he could open the door again.
The duo took up their positions again and moved slowly back over to the bed. John's forehead was just beginning to glisten with sweat as he relaxed back into the mattress. Sherlock brought John some water he had hardly even realized he wanted until the mug was placed in his hands. He sipped gratefully from the straw that had been added.
"This seems like a vicious cycle," John said with a chuckle as he drained the mug.
"Transport is always a nuisance John, that is why I focus my efforts on the mind." Sherlock replied, as he returned to the couch and typing on his laptop.
"With nothing to really worry about at the moment John allowed his mind to wander.
"His mind calm like a still pond the memory bubbled to the surface unbidden. It took John a moment to realize what exactly was happening and then his eyes shot open in excitement. It was just a short memory but John was thrilled because he had finally remembered him.
He gasped as he sat up his high spirits not even dampened by the headache that began to form as a result of the motion.
"John what is it, are you alright?" The taller man asked out of his chair in an instant and hovering hesitantly next to John's bed.
"I…I just had a flash back" John said still partially in awe at the memory. It had been brief but he could still feel the rush of happy emotions running through him from the memory.
***Flashback***
"That was ridiculous, that was the most ridiculous thing I've ever done." He had been gasping for air, out of breath from running… somewhere. He leaned back against the wall as he let his heart rate slow down.
"And you invaded Afghanistan." Sherlock quipped leaning against the wall beside him. They both were laughing before he even finished.
"That wasn't just me" John replied taking a pause in their childish laughter...
***Flashback***
"What did you remember John?" Sherlock asked, trying to keep the trepidation out of his voice.
John quirked an eyebrow, trying for a moment to identify why Sherlock didn't sound quite as excited as he had expected. After a pause he decided it wasn't that important and relayed to the man what he had seen. A smile spread across Sherlock's face as he listened to John retell the memory.
"That was a good moment in time." Sherlock reflected.
"I can't remember why we were running though," John half stated half asked.
"We had been," Sherlock started but then caught himself about to say running from the authorities but realized without some explanation that would probably worry John. "in a rush" He finished rather lamely. John noticed the pause in Sherlock's response and he gave the man a curious look. "You're leaving something out." John asked tilting his head in confusion. "You know that advice the nurse gave you about trying to force me to remember things is so that you don't accidentally generate false memories which would make it difficult for me to regain my own memories. You can provide me with a little detail around the memories that I have return on their own." John explained to Sherlock thinking maybe this was the issue.
"I realize that." Sherlock mumbled in response. "Just give me a little time to figure things out." He continued. He was conflicted, he knew now would be the best time to broach the subject of his job, yet he was afraid to discover if Johns response to his deductions would be affected by his head trauma. John looked at Sherlock curiously. He felt as if he could trust the man; and as far as he can remember, which was still a good 32 years, he had always been a pretty good judge of character. Yet, It was clear that the man was trying to keep something from him. "Alright…that seems reasonable" John said hesitantly. Sherlock could hear the confusion in John's voice but knew it would turn into suspicion eventually and his gut clenched in fear.
"John I am sure you have noticed to some extent that my behavior is atypical." Sherlock paused briefly as he gathered his thoughts and determined the best way to continue. He continued to keep his gaze on the floor unwilling to see the reactions to his words play across Johns face. "I score at the Genius level on any of the standard tests available. My mind processes far more information and data in a given moment than the average person generally can fully appreciate. I tell you this not to brag in any way but to ensure that you have all of the facts. As a result of my demanding intellect it is my constant struggle to find something challenging enough and engaging enough to save me from boredom." He spits out the final word with a particular amount of vehemence. A part of him registers that he has never felt the need to explain the why behind his choice to become a detective before, but this is John and with regards to Sherlock, John has always been the exception. "Puzzles, my mind needs challenges John, it baulks at stagnation and in an effort to satisfy this need I had to create a profession of my own. I am a consulting detective. I help the police at Scotland Yard with solving their most difficult cases and provide my services to the public as well. Murders tend to be the most interesting cases to solve so I work on those the most, this fact seems to make many question my motives but I assure you I simply enjoy having puzzles to solve. Some of the police don't understand my methods and are unwilling to work with me… well really only Lestrade is willing to work with me. So as a result I often get your expert medical opinion regarding cause of death and other relevant medical information for cases rather than deal with the police forensic teams. You have become a sounding board for me while I develop my theories. You have shown a better aptitude for implementing my methods of observation than any of the so-called detectives at The Yard. In this last year you have become a critical part of my process for solving cases." Sherlock stops realizing that he has veered far off course with this rant and he hopes John wont read too far into his words. Having started he had felt compelled to continue on telling John more and more, fearing this might be his last chance to explain himself. Silence falls across the room but Sherlock is unwilling to see what John's reaction will be.
"Most people see but they don't observe John. My dedication to the Science of Deduction allows me to note things most people overlook. As a result simple minds assume it is some kind of trick and when my skills are applied to determining the actions of murderer they assume the only way I could know what I know is if I myself am a Psychopath and a murderer." Sherlock finally risks a quick glance up to anxiously search Johns face but he is unsure what emotions he is seeing beyond shock.
"High Functioning Sociopath." He states after a moment.
"What?" John asks in confusion still struggling to keep up with everything he has just been told.
"I'm not a psychopath, I'm a high functioning sociopath." Sherlock states slowly, trying to ensure that John understands this critical distinction. "I enjoy the mystery of the murders not the murders themselves." He adds while searching John's facial expression again.
After a moment John smirked and stated "ah so that's why you noticed the whole catheter thing."
"John I…please don't think that I have in any way used my abilities to falsely represent…" Sherlock began to stammer before John held up a hand stopping, "No, no it was only a joke Sherlock, you have your Science of Deduction but I have my intuition, and my gut seems to trust you." John stated, a little unnerved by how scared this genius of a man was that people would always see his actions as having cruel motives.
Sherlock gave John a confused look before replying "well that seems highly illogical."
"Maybe so, but once you have seen that unexplained gut instinct save your life, you are far less likely to dismiss it as insignificant" John replies thinking back to his first deployment to Afghanistan.
He had been on a patrol with an infantry unit as their medical support. He was near the front of the column of men with only a couple of Soldiers in front of him. They had been hiking along a goat trail weaving its way up the steep side of the valley when he had felt a cold chill rush down his spin. He had frozen mid step returning his foot to its original position because something had just felt off. The vibration of his foot hitting the ground caused a small portion of the silt in front of him to cascade down the mountain. In its wake was just barely visible the small pressure prong of an anti-personnel mine. His heart had frozen in that moment at the realization of how close he had came to getting his legs blown off. The three men in front of him had simply been lucky that they hadn't stepped on the mine either. That experience had solidified for Watson that he shouldn't dismiss his gut reaction to a situation. He was pulled out of his thoughts by Sherlock talking.
"I forget sometimes, about Watson the Soldier, and all the things you probably saw while you were in the military." Sherlock says somberly having realized that John was reliving some near death experience where his intuition had truly saved his life. It scared him to think of exactly how many occasions there may have been where John Watson almost died before the two of them ever got to meet.
"Well don't feel too bad I seem to have forgotten some of it too," John attempted to make light of the situation but his laugh came out sounding bitter. Silence overtook the two of them again as both men got lost in their thoughts.
Authors Note: I'm not even going to try and justify my absence I just hope you all enjoyed the update.