Sherlock was let out three days later. He was silent during the entire ride back. Of course, what else can he say? Not a single word will be uttered from his mouth, ever again.

Lestrade visited a few days earlier when Sherlock had just came out of surgery to remove the tubes from his chest. He was heavily sedated so there weren't much words. Lestrade only shook his head, watching the sleeping detective's chest rise up and down.

"You sure he's okay?" He asked John.

"Well, his first reaction wasn't quite well," he stated.

Lestrade sighed. "Just…take care of him," he said to John. And then he left.

Molly visited right after Lestrade. "Is he ever going to heal?" she asked him. John only shook his head. He wasn't sure.

Molly kind of just stared straight ahead at Sherlock. And then her lips began trembling. She burst through the doors and left without another word. And John was left there, in silence alone with Sherlock.

Mycroft, well, Mycroft acted like Mycroft. Cool, calm, exactly the way he acted when Sherlock got shot. He said he's going to talk to him privately when he's fully healed. Of course, that's Mycroft.

Oh, and not before mentioning that he implanted a tracker behind Sherlock's ear just in case he got lost or captured.

Mrs. Hudson was informed on the day Sherlock was let out of the hospital. She was disappointed. Sad. Crestfallen.

"Poor dear," she kept muttering, "oh my, oh, that poor poor thing…" John meet with her before Sherlock was let out. And they sat there, and spent some quality time together, discussing what to do when Sherlock's (silent).

Sherlock, without his snotty remarks, sarcastic statements, his ability to deduce. He can be as smart as Einstein and Hawking combined but without his voice nobody will know what he wants to say. Nobody. And Sherlock, being Sherlock, will refuse any type of electronic voice to aid him. He has already refused the suggestions made by his doctors.

2…2…1…b…, he would tap to John every time he wakes up. The doctors said Sherlock might need to go see the therapist some time. Losing his voice all of the sudden like that needs adjusting. But John didn't tell him. Instead, John decided to go see the therapist by himself. To go ask the doctor how he could help Sherlock. How to make him adjust to this silent life.

"Don't let him fall into depression," the doctor had said.

Ha. Depression. Since when was Sherlock depressed. Probably the frustration of not solving a case or anger of not catching the culprit in time. But depression to the case of suicide? Sherlock wouldn't do that. He's too intelligent to just hand his life over like that.

Right?

"Spend more time with him," the doctor had also told him. Of course. What can be more obvious than that?

But… what about his own family? What about Mary, what about his daughter? He can't just leave his life like that.

And of course John choose to kept it away from him. Sherlock will never heal. It's not curable. His vocal cords are damaged, and there's nothing to do about it. John hated being useless.

—

It still felt weird.

Not being able to talk.

Every time when he opens his mouth ready to yell something at John, nothing comes out. Only the deafening silence. It's driving him crazy. But he doesn't go crazy. There's nothing really wrong. He can still continue with his life. He can still solve crimes.

Can he?

Without the ability to speak, how can he deduce? How can he let out the usual spur of words, amazing all those around him?

Possible or not possible chance of healing, he still has to find a way to live even without his voice. And so he began to type.

We have to find a way to communicate -SH

He waited from John to reply. Two minutes passed until a message came in.

Sherlock it's six in the morning and how are you planning to find a way? -JW

Sherlock rolled his eyes although he knew John couldn't see.

Do you know sign-language? -SH

A bit, not a lot though. -JW

Go learn. -SH

He sighed then tossed his phone on the sofa. That probably ended their only conversation of the day.

—

John woke up to the beeping of his alarm. He turned to his side to see the digital screen showing 8:30. Well, two hours. Sherlock let him sleep two hours before making some sort of racket. It was when he reached the bathroom door when he realized, he didn't wake because of Sherlock, but of the alarm clock.

Frantic, he turned around to look for Sherlock. He was nowhere to be seen.

"Sherlock?" he called. No answer. His heart dropped and he took a few breaths to calm himself down. This wasn't the first time Sherlock had ran off but John hoped it wouldn't be the last.

"Sherlock?" he called again. Still no answer.

"Mrs. Hudson!" he yelled. In seconds, there were high heels clumping up the wooden stairs and soon, the door creaked open.

"For the second time John Watson I am not your housekeeper," Mrs. Hudson huffed as she poked her head out of the door.

"Sherlock, have you seen him?" John asked.

Mrs. Hudson's expression changed from exasperation to puzzlement. "Well, he left a couple of hours ago, didn't explain himself, well, he couldn't could he?" Mrs. Hudson let out a small chuckle to lighten things up. It quickly died away.

John sighed then fished his phone out of his pocket. "I'll go text him to see where he is," he said with a thin smile. Mrs. Hudson nodded tightly then turned around to leave.

"Call me when you need me," she said.

John looked up from his phone and smiled. "Course' I will," he replied.

Mrs. Hudson smiled sadly then left. John went back to texting his friend.

Sherlock where are you? He typed. The response was quick.

Out. -SH

John sighed. Sherlock was still Sherlock even without his voice.

I know you're out. But where? -JW

Shopping. We're out of milk. -SH

Shopping? You never go out to shop. -JW

But there's nothing to do. -SH

Can't you do an experiment? -JW

The next response surprised him.

Too quiet. -SH

Too quiet. Another effect of being mute. "Silence can drive him crazy," the doctor told him. "give him some music to hear. Tell him to play an instrument, does he play an instrument?"

"Yes, a violin," John replied. The doctor sat back and nodded.

"Let him play the violin," he said, "he needs the music to fill in the silence."

A soft ding interrupted him from his thoughts.

Oh, and if you're wondering why I'm taking so long it's because it took forever for me to find where the milk was. -SH

John smiled.

Ok just be back asap. -JW

On the way. -SH

John let his shoulders fall and he sank into the couch, letting his phone rest in his hands. He could make it. He could make it with Sherlock. And he would never leave him behind.

Never.

Hey guys, Izzy here. Thanks for the reviews and favorites, your reviews make my day!

Sorry if some of the words are a bit confusing, I'm not from Britain so please correct if I'm wrong.

Who should be the next James Bond? TAKING A POLL!