Disclaimer: I don't own anything apart from insanity, wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee :)

His breathing is steady and almost completely silent when I roll up to his bed. It seems he has fallen asleep again, a thing I can't judge him for. I should sleep too a little, I think. But I just don't want to. Plus I'd have to ring for 'her'- I don't feel up to it. At least not right now.

I have to admit, I was a little scared when John just fell unconscious, out of the blue. At first I simply thought he was joking, we were doing that thing a lot along the evening. And it also scares me that I don't know why, just nothing. One second to another John lay on the floor, barely breathing. His chest barely moving.

I don't even know why I was so scared, but then we don't know a lot. Or rather, people never let us know much. I don't know what is inside of these little chemo pills, I don't know what effects they'll have and do to me this time. I'm only ever told that it's going to be fine. It won't hurt. Shhush...

And then it does hurt. And you do vomit. And you do cry. Only to let people tell you the same old thing over and over again. Because it's always fine, as it seems. I hate this hospital, this whole thing.

John looks comfortable as I hear him hum a little in his sleep. I wish I could sleep like that. My dreams end up in nightmares most of the times; I have to think of so many things. But then, John does have my Redbeard. Mycroft doesn't call him Radbeard for nothing.

I feel the tiredness even overwhelming me, for a little while. But still, I want to stay here. I don't want to leave. John looks so peaceful that I can almost feel it too, but only almost of course. And I can't help but wonder why I care.

I hear a song when I wake up, a gentle hum on the nurse's lips. My eyes wander around the place searching for Sherlock, hurting a bit round the edges. And then I find him. At my side, fast asleep. It looks as if he nodded off, while watching me sleep. Sounds less creepy than it should.

My toes feel a bit wobbly and I play with them a little until I can feel something again. Sherlock's still not awake, so I snap my finger as loud as I can, with no real effect. Well, let him sleep. Although, I don't want to be alone for too long. I always have to think of her. The one who died.

I hope I won't hold up for that title soon. 'The Boy who lived' would be much more preferable. But then I'm not Harry Potter. Far from him.

It's a pity really; we don't die in honour, or have a last dramatic battle for life and death. We just die silently and then we're gone. Another person dead. Not surprising for cancer patients. Nothing ever surprising. Although we might be surprised. Like 'oh, I'm dead?' It might happen any second.

I muster Sherlock upside down, noticing things I never did before. He doesn't look so scary from this perspective, quite cute actually. Well, not cute, just nice. Somebody nice. But I shouldn't let myself be ruled by my instinct. He could be the devil in cuddly form.

But I think he must care, maybe he really does. That would be quite nice actually, to have someone there. To rely on. But I don't know yet, we'll see. I should at least thank him for the teddy dog sometime soon; it would be a first step.

"Hey, Sherlock hey?" I whisper. "You awake?"

"Uh, what?" He rubs his eyes and yawns. "Yes, 'course... What's your problem?"

"Err, honestly, what happened? I can't quite put it together, what-"

"You fell. I don't know you, just lay on the floor. It all sort of happened in a finger snip. And that's all that I know, enough?" Sherlock frowns.

"Did you notice anything else, any signs?"

"No, as I said, I was too busy- with you. Normally I would have, I swear. I was just a bit caught off. "

"Now that's definitely cute."

"I hate being called cute." His frown intensifies. "I may be a lot of things, but cute is definitely not one of them."

"So, what are you then if not cute?" A little smile tugs at the corner of my mouth.

Oh man, where to begin? I'm cool, obviously. People could easily exchange me for something like, a zombie superhero. Hey- that's not even a bad idea. Though it might be a bit complicated with all the medical stuff, equipment and such, I still have my little helper-John to patch me up. Yep. Good idea.

"I'm a superhero." I murmur quietly, only for John to hear. "Hey, don't laugh at me. Superhero-buddies aren't supposed to do that."

"Oh, okay." John tries to suppress his urges, but fails. "What's your superpower then?"

"I can go and deduce shit about people."

"Shit?"

"No, not shit." I shake my head eagerly. "You know, I saw something like that in a funny film. Somebody in it carried my name, that's as much as I can remember. And they were together in a team and solved mysteries and everything -and they were cool."

"Aha."

I nod once more. "Yes, I wanna have that sort of thing."

"Friendship is not a superpower, Sherlock."

"It is to me."

"Okay. Let's make a deal then." John takes a pause to be able to think and then whispers with a little sparkle his eyes: "You can have mine, my superpowers. It's been very long since I let them be used by anybody, so use them with great care, okay? They're very unique."

"You can have mine too, you know. If you want them." I whisper back, smiling. I think I have a friend.