Chapter Eight

John was sent home the next day; he was able to walk fair distances but Sherlock stayed by his side whenever he moved, just in case. The two had swapped numbers with Laura, they wanted to keep in touch with the young woman and she pestered them about being invited to the wedding, which she was positive would be occurring in the near future.

It was two days into John's arrival that John brought up the subject that had been whirling around his brain nonstop since his return. What was going on with his and Sherlock's relationship?

They had joked about marriage for god's sake! What was going on? He had been so caring at the hospital, he was still looking after him now, and it was like he was a whole new person. John had to admit it was a lovely side to him, although he did miss the old Sherlock. Sure he still made a mess of the kitchen with his bloody experiments and still played his violin at god knows what hour in the morning. But he kind of missed the Sherlock he knew before the accident, the Sherlock he had fallen in love with. He missed the Sherlock who sat on his arse and yelled things at the telly whenever there wasn't a case "interesting" enough, the Sherlock who kept heads in the fridge and insulted everyone and everything he laid eyes on.

He wasn't complaining of course, he loved Sherlock to pieces, more than he ever thought possible and it was nice to see a new side to him, it was nice to finally be able to talk to him without being insulted or out smarted.

Although there were some rather awkward downsides to not being able to do much yourself; Because Sherlock would not let him go anywhere on his own and John could not stand up himself without being in pain and sitting back down, Sherlock insisted on taking him to the toilet and dress him e.c.t.

Sherlock did not seem too phased by this, but for John it was the most awkward thing he had ever had to endure. He was sick of not being able to do anything by himself, he was an independent man and he hated being totally dependent on Sherlock. He knew it was necessary however, he was of course still very weak and his shoulder and side still throbbed with the slightest movement and he was glad to have the help.

Shaking his head and escaping from his daydreams he looked over at Sherlock who was perched like an eagle on the arm chair opposite. He knew that the longer he pondered on how to approach Sherlock then the more he would panic and Sherlock would eventually sense that something was wrong.

After taking a deep breath and shifting slightly in his chair John plucked up the courage to ask him.

"Sherlock?" John said quietly, hoping he wouldn't hear him and he would have an excuse to wimp out of the whole situation. But of course Sherlock heard him and John had to go through with it.

"Yes John."

"I was just wondering what, um, well what are we?" He said, feeling himself go bright red and wishing he had a newspaper to cover his face.

"We're Human Beings John, I thought that was obvious" Sherlock smirked at John, he was in one of his 'I'm going to see how far I can bend you before you snap' moods and he clearly had no idea that John was about to bring up a very serious point for the both of them.

"Sherlock I'm being serious, I just want to know what's going on between us"

"What do you mean, there isn't much going on between us, our Coffee's going co-"

"SHERLOCK!" John yelled, he was being, well Sherlock, at the worst time possible. However shouting was possibly the worst thing he could do, the bullet to his side had hit his Rectus Abdominis, also known as the 'Abs' and because the shot had been so powerful it had ruptured the muscle from its attachment. This muscle helped with the flexing of the spine and so undoubtedly John would be in pain for months to come and would not be able to walk comfortably for the first few weeks, and so the cane would be needed. The Doctors had told him that any large movement at all could send the muscle into Spasm, and it seemed that that was what was happening now. As he shouted the pain in his side spiked and he yelled out in pain straight after.

Hissing through his teeth John waved to Sherlock to get his medication but Sherlock was already in the other room throwing open the kitchen cupboards and swearing under his breath. He grabbed a bottle of Codeine from the top cupboard and emptied the rest of the bottle into his hand. The pain in John's side was now also coming from his shoulder and John was struggling to breath.

"Sherlock" he gasped, "Sherlock hurry up"

"I'm coming; I'm coming, shit, shit, shit" John heard him say, and the thunder as the tap was put on at full blast, spraying all over the kitchen and Sherlock. Sherlock rushed in- tap still on- with pills in one hand and glass of water in the other, and kneeled in front of John. He put the pills in his mouth and helped him with the drink. Water dribbling down his chin, Sherlock wiped it away with a small smile and kissed John's forehead.

"Are you alright?" He asked full of concern.

John looked up with a weak smile, and nodded, pain rippling throughout his body but easing slightly with every second. Codeine worked miracles.

"Was that the last of it?"

"I'm afraid so, I should take you back to the hospital you shouldn't still be experiencing pain like that John."

"Its normal don't worry; they wouldn't have prescribed the Codeine for so long otherwise."

"I still want to take you back, what if something is happening and we just can't see it John. I'm going to call them, I don't want you suffering more than you have to, I can't lose you" Sherlock was clearly extremely worried about John, and John was touched by his concern. It was kind of sweet to see Sherlock in such a state; he looked like a lost little Puppy with his hair everywhere and his big sad eyes.

John grabbed Sherlock's arm as he moved towards his phone, pulling him down towards him.

"Sherlock look at me" John said, Sherlock purposely looked down and John smiled and kissed the top of his head, nose burying beneath his untamable curls.

"I'll be fine, I promise. Stop worrying okay?" He murmured into his hair.

He felt Sherlock let out a deep sigh and a reluctant "okay" left his lips and John smiled happily moving his head so he was laying his cheek on his head.

"You never answered my question you dick" John chuckled.

"We can be whatever you want us to be John"

"What's that supposed to mean?" John asked in confusion, lifting his head off of Sherlock's and looking into his face, trying not to get drawn into his beautiful eyes.

"Well we both confessed our feelings for each other back at the hospital, but of course you were drugged and delusional, I completely understand if you don't-"

"Wait Sherlock slow down, what are you saying. You think I don't love you, you think I was lying?" John asked in outrage.

"No no I didn't mean it like that let me explain-"

"Don't bother I get it" John interrupted raising his voice and ignoring the shots of pain that had returned. He went to stand up but fell back onto his seat; he couldn't do it without help.

"For fuck sake!" He yelled in frustration "Sherlock help me up I need to storm out dramatically" John yelled seriously, staring angrily at Sherlock. They stared each other out for about 10 seconds, before Sherlock smiled broadly, his eyes crinkling at the corners and they both collapsed into fits of laughter. John tried not to show the pain this was causing him but Sherlock could see right through his façade. Sherlock put his fingers to John's lips and kissed him unexpectedly, silencing John's chuckles and replacing them with moans.

But John was not in the mood for such 'activity' and he pulled Sherlock back with a playful scowl.

"Not until you tell me what you want us to be. Not me, you"

"Well I believe you would call it 'Boyfriends' that sounds about right"

"Boyfriend sounds good to me" John replied trying to contain his happiness. It didn't work, a grin spread out across his face and he couldn't care less about his injuries as Sherlock leaned in with a suggestive smile and a wink that took Johns breath away.