No mystery solving this time. But there's some sweetness going on between our wonderful boys so I'm sure you'll forgive me. Your reviews are my biggest encouragement, so thank you to those who has review the story so far. You are so very kind!

Chapter 6

"Later Mrs. Hudson," John and Sherlock answered in sync. John heard her giggle as she returned to her front door. He vaguely wondered if it was covered in human as well. Not that she would mind, obviously. John sighed as he once against was faced with the fact that he lived amongst the strangest people in London- and he didn't really mind. The last part was always the most concerning to him.

Somehow Sherlock had some kind of hoisting contraption set up right next to his bedroom window that made it possible for Mrs. Hudson to place the food on a stable platform that he would hoist to the second floor without any complications. And all that was done in time for dinner. Mrs. Hudson gave Sherlock a happy wave before she disappeared once again. Sherlock met John in the kitchen with two plates of steaming hot soup. "Dinner is served!" Sherlock announced. "Oh, that's wonderful!" The moment they sat down John heard voices coming from downstairs. "I think Lestrade found a ladder."
"And I believe your hearing is getting better," relief was much more obvious in Sherlock's voice than he had intended. He coughed and added, "Remember to look bored."
John huffed, "Of course, how could I forget?"

Moments later Lestrade, Sgt. Donovan and a few uniforms entered the flat. "Hello Lestrade," Sherlock greeted. "Hungry? I'm sure Mrs. Hudson would be willing to make you a portion as well."
"Sherlock bloody Holmes- what are you doing in here? How did you even get here? And why are you not in the hospital? Good God I though you were the mature one!"

John chuckled. Sherlock sighed, "So many questions! Are you always like this? Even when not at work I mean? No matter. John's fine, his hearing is already better. I've discovered that we're dealing with a resourceful man who can get into contact with weak-minded individuals without much problem and probably without causing suspicion. There! Now go away and do your best finding him and wait for my call."
"How the hell did you come up with that?" Lestrade asked frustrated throwing his hands up.

"Have you met me?" Sherlock retorted with a quirked eyebrow. John snorted and smirked at Sherlock but didn't comment. Sally remained surprisingly quiet; she only sighed dramatically and turned on her heel to leave.

"Fine, whatever Sherlock. It's not much to go on, but we'll do our best. But are you sure you'll be all right John? You could lose you sight permanently without the correct treatment, but I'm sure you knew that."
Sherlock's head snapped to stare at Johns face. His eyes were impossible to read for Lestrade but they seemed instantly colder and more focused. "Yes, I'm aware. I'm afraid all I can to is wait a couple of days and try and see if there has been any improvement."
"Improvement how? How sure is it that you'll get you sight back John?" Lestrade asked with worry. They were friends after all, and loosing ones sight is one great fucking deal to say the least. "Oh don't worry, there's only a very slim change for that to happen. And improvement would be that I'd be able to see shapes or the difference of light or dark or something like that. I've never tried it myself so I'm not… really sure." Sherlock knew John was lying but Lestrade, of course, didn't notice a thing and simply sighed in relief, "Great, please update my on both the case and your health, okay guys?"
"Sure thing, Greg," John assured. Sherlock said nothing.

"Okay then, let's go lads," and they were off. Moments later the flat was quiet once again and John proceeded to finish his soup. He frowned, as he didn't hear the clacking of Sherlock's spoon. "Are you not going to eat? It's really tasty you know, and Mrs. Hudson made it for us after all."
"What are the odds?" Sherlock asked coolly.

"I- what? What odds?"

"For you to permanently loose you sight?" he elaborated, eyes fixated on John gauze. He narrowed his eyes when John didn't respond right away. "Don't lie to me John, you know it's not possible."
"Fifty-fifty."

Sherlock actually physically dropped his spoon into his soup and it clattered loudly and startled both men. "That's-" Sherlock's mind went completely quiet for one excruciating half a second and then bombarded itself with the information he had just received.

"Sherlock? Sherlock, it's fine. It's good odds- really. I've seen much worse cases in my time in Afga-"
"I'll get you a doctor," Sherlock stated firmly.

"What? No Sherlock you can't-"
"It's not up for discussion. I'll have Mycroft find the best there is and we'll get you better."
"Sherlock listen. There's nothing you can to before we know if I'm getting better by my self-" Sherlock cut him short once again, this time John heard his voice shaking but only so faintly no one else would have noticed. "When is that? How long do we have to wait? I need to know everything John, I though I had this under control I-"

"Sherlock!" Sherlock shut up. John took a breath and Sherlock unconsciously did the same. Sherlock frowned slightly when he realized he had been manipulated into following Johns calming gesture but didn't mention it. "I'm not an expert all right? In Afghanistan we didn't have the luxury to wait the five days you normally should. We were forced to check for improvement after 36 hours. Sometimes people got lucky, and were able to see some improvement but mostly they were escorted home to get time to regain their sight… or face the fact that they'd be blinded for life. So I'd say we'll peel this thing of tomorrow morning or whenever we wake up and see if anything has changed, all right?" He gestured at his gauze.

"Yes. That is acceptable. But if there's not I'll get Mycroft," Sherlock said firmly.

"Fine, you do that. Now eat you soup, it's getting cold."
John chose not to mention Sherlock's nervous behavior. It would make Sherlock all defensive and John didn't mind sitting enjoying his cooling soup with a feeling of being cared for. Not at all.

When they had finished their meal John stretched his back and yawned. It wasn't late yet the d traumas and emotional and physical stress had John feeling ridiculously tired. "Sherlock would you mind following me up the stairs? I'm not sure I should run round out there on my own like this," John waved at his face.

"Of course. Now?"
"If you don't mind, yeah." Sherlock had his hand around his wrist in a heartbeat and gently lead him to the stairs. John received no warnings so he assumed Sherlock was right about the upper staircase being intact. He still winced when the steps creaked loudly but they made it safely to his room. Sherlock let go of John and waited by the door as John slowly walked into the room. "Will you be all right?"

"Yeah, thank you Sherlock. Really, I'll be fine."
"Good. Call me as soon as you wake up, I want to be here to observe you as you remove your gauze."

"Sure, Sherlock, I'll do that. Hey-" John turned to him and bit his lip, almost not speaking after all. "Yes?" Sherlock inquired.

"Thank you."

Sherlock blinked, "What for?"
"For being so… great- at helping I mean! I'm just-" John sighed at himself. Cool it, John, he's the one with emotional problems not you. "I'm grateful for your awareness I guess. So there."
"I see. I suppose I should say 'you're welcome', and you are, but I believe it is my duty since you are my closest friend after all," Sherlock stood in the doorframe for a second that seemed to stretch for the longest moments. Then John grinned and said.

"Okay then. Goodnight Sherlock. Try to get some sleep."
"Goodnight John."

John kept smiling even as he stumbled into bed. Being temporary blinded wasn't all bad after all then.