Chapter Five

"You have a concussion, Dr. Watson. You need to lay still," the doctor said firmly, placing his hand on John's shoulder.

"No, I need to find out what happened to Sherlock," John argued, trying to persuade the doctor into letting him go visit Sherlock.

There was nothing that the doctors could do for him. He had no idea why he was still here. He had no idea why the doctors were insisting that he stay in bed when there was nothing to be done! He was in shock, he had whiplash, he had a concussion, he had a broken nose, two of his ribs were cracked, and there was a sizeable bruise growing across his chest, but there was nothing to do done. And now he was stuck in bed, while Sherlock was off who-knew-where, getting who-knew-what done. He might even be dying, and John knew absolutely nothing.

"The best thing that you can for your friend is rest."

"Resting isn't going to help!" John retorted.

He was angry enough to... to... well, he didn't know what exactly, but he was angry enough to do it, whatever it was.

His mind wasn't working like it should be. He knew, subconsciously, that he needed to lay still for awhile, to let his mind catch up with what was happening. He knew, subconsciously, that what the doctor was doing was perfectly sound and of very good practice. But, he also knew that his best friend had been seriously injured, enough for him to show it, anyway, and he didn't know what kind of injuries there were. He just wanted to know. That wasn't too much to ask.

"Just rest, Dr. Watson."

John groaned, slumping back onto the pillows.

It was over an hour before John was allowed to even have the chance to visit Sherlock. When the doctor gave him leave to go visit Sherlock, John had been so eager to get out of this stuffy room that he'd completely forgotten about the shock, the whiplash, and more importantly, the concussion. He moved too fast, the nausea swelled up like a rushing wave, and he barely had the state of mind to grab the basin from the bedside table to vomit into.

The doctor seemed to give him a look that was clearly meant to be 'I told you so', even though he poured a glass of water for John afterwards.

"Can I be officially discharged, then?" John asked, taking a sip of the water. He was still much less concerned with himself than he was for Sherlock and he was by far too willing to show that, but he didn't care, for once, what people thought.

"Seeing as how we've done what we can, you can, if you promise to be on your best behaviour," the doctor said sternly.

John just nodded, sliding out the bed. He'd be fine once he was by Sherlock's side.

He was very glad that no one could read his mind. People would never understand that what he had in Sherlock was by far not a romantic bond, but something much stronger than that. It wasn't romantic, but it wasn't a normal friendship, either.

Sherlock had saved his life. That's all John knew, and he wasn't going to let anything irreparable happen to the pompous consulting detective while he was around.

He rapped his knuckles lightly on Sherlock's hospital door before sliding it open. "Sherlock...?" he asked quietly, peering in.

"John...?"

Pleased that Sherlock was awake, John slipped into the room and closed the door. "You're awake."

"Mm..."

John smiled down at the pale form of Sherlock. Albeit if he was pale, and looking very much like he was fighting to stay awake.

"How're you feeling?" John asked quietly, pulling the visitor's chair close to the bedside and taking a seat.

"Medicine..." Sherlock muttered, forcing his eyes open. "They've given me medicine..."

"So, basically, you feel nothing," John supplied.

"Basically..." Sherlock murmured. He finally met John's eyes, blinking tiredly. "You're good, too...?"

"I'm fine, although I still don't know what is wrong with you. No one's told me."

"Oh..." Sherlock said, sitting up slightly. "Well." He flinched a bit as he sat up, but didn't bother to stop moving until he had sat up. "Whiplash... Shock... Stitches in my head... Concussion..." He perked up. "My leg, John. It's broken."

John blinked in surprise, looking towards the blankets concealing Sherlock's legs. "You've got a broken leg?"

He, wondered, briefly, how in the hell Sherlock was going to manage with a broken leg.

"Mmmhmm..."

"What medicine are you on?" he muttered, standing to grab the clipboard.

"No, no, no, John..." Sherlock drawled, snapping his eyes open again. "You have to stay..."

John blinked. "I'm just going to grab the clipboard. It's just on the end of your bed."

"Have to..." Sherlock murmured, his eyes fluttering closed again.

"What?" John muttered. He hesitated for a moment before sinking back into the chair. Finding out what medication Sherlock was on wasn't too important. He could do it later.

"Have to wake up me every few hours..." Sherlock muttered.

John didn't know what he expected. Of course Sherlock would have an addition to that sentence. He wouldn't just be telling John to stay because he wanted John to stay.

He should have been used to that.

"We're going to have to sleep in shifts. I've got a concussion, too, you know," John replied, instead of pursuing the subject.

"Mm... Concussion... Broken nose... Whiplash... Shock and... three cracked ribs?" Sherlock muttered, opening his eyes again.

"Two," John corrected.

"Right..."

Sherlock searched John's eyes for a moment. John didn't know what he was looking for, but John stared back into Sherlock's ice-chip eyes unblinkingly, mirroring Sherlock's action.

"I'm glad you're okay."

John felt the back of his neck start to tingle with the warmth that was an impending blush after he said those words. Their partnership was not based on words. Their partnership had never been based on words, so it was almost terrifying to accidentally say those words out loud.

And embarrassing. Definitely embarrassing.

Sherlock gave a little huff, turning his head away.

"You, too."

John thought he was hearing things, for a moment, before he realized that Sherlock's lips had actually moved with the two simple words.

John smiled to himself and, still slightly red in the face, settled back in the chair.

This ended up being a bit more sentimental than I had planned it to be. That said, I enjoy it. Hopefully, the viewers do as well.

Thanks!