John woke up very groggy in the hospital. What happened? I'm so thirsty… All of his memories from the funeral flooded back into his mind. John sat up quickly causing a sharp pain to hit his head. He winced then looked around. There was no one in the sterile, white, hospital room. Suddenly, Sherlock stepped into the room. "Sh-Sherlock?" groaned John.

"Yes" said Sherlock simply.

He didn't look like his usual self. Sherlock wasn't speaking in a monotone, know it voice, but in a soft, about to cry voice. His eyes were slightly pink around the edges. Sherlock ran up to John and gave him a hug and let the tears he was holding in let loose on John's shoulder.

John was surprised to see his friend like this. He never imagined Sherlock crying. John always saw the snobbish, stoic side. Sherlock pulled away from John. "I-I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me." Sherlock quickly wiped his still teary eyes and pulled a chair up next to the bed. "I thought…. I thought you were dead."

John smiled a little. "Same here." That sounded awkward you idiot.

They were both silent for a few moments when Sherlock looked at John. They were silent for a few, sweet moments. Bluish and greenish eyes sank into each other. Their heads wavers slightly when they both looked away and Sherlock quickly choked, "Coffee?"

John merely nodded, but watched Sherlock walked out. Sherlock looks adorable when he's embarrassed. "What am I saying?!" John tried to deny the thought, but he knew it was true. Sherlock's face turned a light shade of pink around his cheeks and his face scrunched up. He walked quickly and it was just all around cute in John's eyes.

John laid back and closed his eyes, but then they shot open. I was the reason Sherlock faked his death.

….

John was checked out of the hospital a few days after he saw Sherlock break down with the knowledge he had been asleep for 2 days. John of course had to attend school, but Thanksgiving break was only days away. He wasn't exactly bullied at school, but no one talked to him or sat by him at lunch or during class. He could see Noah and his friends laughing at him from a different table. He caught, "Why doesn't he go cry to his boyfriend! Oh wait, he's dead!"

John smiled for a few minutes, but then remembered an awful thing. After Sherlock left, John fell back asleep and woke up to a nurse checking his IV. "Where's Sherlock?" he asked slightly dazed.

"Who?" asked the nurse.

"My… my friend." He murmured sitting up a little.

"I don't remember seeing the name Sherlock on our check in list. Besides, no one is allowed into your room until you're fully ready to see someone other than a nurse." She laughed quickly and said. "You should've seen your mum. She was practically wrestling us to see you!"

"But I saw him…" John whispered.

"Sweetie, sometimes you can see things when you're close to death." John didn't realize how injured he really was until he allowed the idea of being close to death into his mind, which seemed to set off every part of his body. John groaned in agony.

"You should get some more sleep." Smiled the nurse. "You had five surgeries, broke some bones, and you were eternally bleeding."

John wasn't even sure why he was at school; half of his body was mangled. Another thing was that he could always press charges against Noah, so why was he still acting like a douche? John shook his head and ate the pudding in front of him; it was the only thing he could eat due to the lack of teeth from the fight. He looked over at Vicky, his girlfriend, or ex-girlfriend. There was no confrontation about breaking up. John wasn't sure they were even dating. John then thought of Sherlock. His sad puppy eyes, his embarrassed facial expression and walk, his ability to look at a person and tell their life story. What wasn't to like? Well, he was stuck up. But it's easy to overlook. John remembered seeing Sherlock in the hospital room, or at least imagining him. Sherlock was crying… even though I punched him and knocked flowers out of his hand. But he still cared? A striking realization struck John.

Sherlock cares for me.

….

John was driven home by his mother instead of walking home. It was hard for him to walk, one of the jocks and stepped on his legs and kicked his shins. It was hard for john to do anything. His head hurt from the blows, his mouth hurt from the knocked out teeth, his collarbone was broken, his right arm was broken and parts of his left arm was fractured, and his stomach constantly felt sore. His left leg was okay despite his soreness, but his right leg (His right, everyone else's left) was horrid. The muscle in his thigh was torn and it was broken in the areas around his shins. John hated the pain he felt by just standing up.

When they reached their apartment, John climbed out of the car with help from his mother and walked in. The landlady, Miss Cartero, was standing by the door and greeted them by handing John their mail. They walked in the way they usually did to their flat, but the stairs seemed like the world's worst villain to John at that moment. His mother could see his angst towards the stairwell and spoke to the landlady, "Is there a spare room we could use for the night?"

"No!" said John quickly, scaring the woman in the room."No, our food and clothes are up there."

"John, we can get that!"

But the boy was already approaching the stairs at a rapid pace for his state. He gingerly raised his left foot and pulled himself onto the first step. He decided to use his left foot again and use his cane ("Mum! It makes me look like an old man!") to assist him onto the next step, but he had a little trouble that time.

"You don't need to please anyone John." His mom said.

"I'm not." He said simply.

He tried the next step, but a slight movement of his pelvis caused a spasm in his right leg. Before john knew it, he was falling down the stairs, but Miss Watson and Catero caught him. Seeing the pleading look in his mom's eyes, he agreed to stay downstairs for the night.

….

It was an hour later that John's mother had brought down a suitcase full of their clothes and they were watching some talk show while eating strawberry ice cream. "It could be worse." Said John's mom, "We could be poor."

John didn't want to respond to that. He knew his small family was financially stable at the moment, but he knew his mom needed to find a job soon or they would be in trouble. But it would be okay for a little while even when their rent money ran out; Miss Catero was one of Miss Watson's best friends.

As if she could read her son's mind, she said, "Or we could be homeless."

John just nodded and pretended like he was watching the talk show; he had much more on his mind though.

Is Sherlock really dead? Was I just imagining him in the hospital? If he is alive, will I ever see him again? As though the universe heard John's worries, he heard the main door shut and someone walk up to the front desk. "Hello!" rang the familiar voice of the landlady.

"Hello," said a familiar monotone voice. Sherlock?!

"I would like to leave this letter to John Watson please."

"Okay! They're right in here!"

As Miss Watson's friend opened the door, John could catch Sherlock leaving in the corner of his eye. It seemed as though the whole world was going in slow motion as John examined Sherlock's very alive features. As Sherlock opened the main door, the biting wind blew his scarf and coat, leaving only a sexy-looking smirk. John was left speechless as he was handed the letter and Sherlock left. He tore it open with greed and savored every hand-printed letter.

Dear John,

I'm not dead. Meet me at the coffee shop tomorrow at 3:00. I hope that works, the school website said that you had tomorrow off for Thanksgiving break.

-SH