A big heartfelt thanks to Jane Q Doe, Dina C, hophophop (who also writes excellent Elementary stories), darkeyesgirl (for reminding me how great Alistair is), VioletBeauregarde and halAa for their really kind, helpful comments. You guys are the best- thanks for reading and taking the time to say hey :) And now back to a certain hospital bedside...
At around 4 am on the fifth day Sherlock felt a hand on his cheek. He opened his eyes to find Joan's peering back at him. His breath hitched. His head was in its usual spot on her shoulder. Joan ruffled his stubble, a crooked smile playing on her lips.
"Watson. You're awake."
He had the eyes of a child. She noted the dark rings that ran under his eyes, how his worry lines seemed to have deepened.
"You're here… Sherlock, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"
He reached up taking her hand in his.
"Am I okay? My dear, dear Watson- whenever am I not?"
They stared. He looked down, embarrassed and sat up.
"I was, I admit, alarmed. But I had… every belief that, that is to say, I never doubted that you would be, eventually quite alright."
He hopped up, clearing his throat and turning on the light.
"I just stopped by to see how you were. On the off chance that you were awake."
She looked around the room. There was an empty dinner plate and two glasses, one half full of water by her bedside along with a toothbrush and deodorant. Clyde was at the foot of her bed. A file was fanned out over her blanket. Sherlock's violin case was in the corner. She looked back at him sideways. He had that look of a five year old who was insisting that they hadn't stolen the last chocolate cookie despite the chocolate crumbs staining their mouth. His smile was sheepish. She decided not to ask him why he was wearing scrubs.
She looked down and smirked.
"Ok, thanks. How long have I been out? And my parents- did you-"
"Contact them? I did. I reassured them you were injured but okay. Your brother too."
She groaned. Her head swam and pain thumped in her chest.
Sherlock moved closer, pulling the cover up over her shoulders while sneaking a furtive glance at her.
"That'll do for now, Watson. Mustn't tax yourself. I'll bring you home soon enough."
"Home?"
He turned off the light.
"Yes."
Her eyes were closed when he looked at her again. He sat down and returned to his spot on her shoulder. He whispered,
"I'm so relieved… Joan… that you are alright."
Joan kissed his forehead and intertwined her fingers with his but he was already sleeping the deepest sleep he'd slept all week.
Alistair was busy filing books in the bookstore when Sherlock's bright green eyes appeared on the other side of the bookshelf. He jumped.
"Alistair. I'm afraid I require your assistance with a project. Again."
Alistair chuckled. Never a dull moment.