A QUIET DAY

John woke the next day with a lighter heart and tentative optimism. Yesterday, Sherlock had almost been normal again. Almost. Maybe with help, he really could get through this with or without pills. John turned to his right to face his alarm clock, 08:45, that late? He lifted himself up against the headboard and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He went to the wardrobe, fished out a tight, plain shirt, a pair of black trousers and a cosy knitted jumper. Shuffling to the mirror he hit his elbow against the wooden side table.

'SHIT!'

Sherlock woke with a start. His eyes flashed open and his whole body shivered with such a sudden awakening. He raised his wrist up to his face, pressed the worn plastic button and the time flashed with a bright green spark – 08:49, late. He pushed himself up and walked to the wardrobe. He picked out his purple shirt and a pair of plain black trousers. He pulled them on and was sad to see that they were loose around his waist. He got the Italian leather belt Mycroft had bought him as a Christmas present four years ago and reluctantly threaded it through the material, snapping the buckle into the last hole. Sherlock glanced at the mirror and just before he went out into the hall, he smoothed the small curl near his left ear down a little.

They exited their rooms simultaneously and Sherlock smiled at John's surprise.

'You've been sleeping all this time?'

'It appears so Watson.'

'Bloody hell that must be a record!'

Sherlock laughed deeply and they walked to the living room. They sat next to each other on the sofa. At the feel of Sherlock's hand accidently touching John's he couldn't help but be reminded of the time they had fallen asleep together and John had woken with his arms wrapped around Sherlock's waist… NO! No time to think about that now. John looked down into his lap, and Sherlock noted his ears started to go red.

'What is it John?'

'Nope, nothing, absolutely nothing'

'What is i-?'

'Fancy tea? I'll go get some.'

As John walked swiftly to the kitchen, Sherlock stared at his back and his mind started to drift to what John could have been thinking about. It was obviously a spontaneous thought, triggered by a specific object, emotion or setting. What was it? However, as Sherlock's mind skipped over possibilities he felt a small part of his brain noticing how physically fit John had become since they had first lived together. He was clearly exercising regularly as his body was much more defined and his legs appeared thinner yet stronger. He had thought that yesterday when he was in café. What were these thoughts? Sherlock wiped them away from him but they kept creeping back and soon his mind was buzzing. By the time John returned he was fully engrossed in having an inward evaluation of John's improved muscular density.

'Yes, thank you John' he muttered as he quickly grabbed the drink of his friend and stared at the table, still deep in thought.

'So what do you want to do toda-?'

'Thinking John.'

'Right yes, of course.'

The rest of the day passed at a steady pace, marked with occasional eating and drinking sessions. Mostly, they sat together on the sofa tapping at their separate laptops. They didn't talk much but you could never call it an uncomfortable silence. One man equally glad of the other's company.

At 06.00 John spoke;

'Sherlock, how are you really?'

'What do you mean?'

'Well… two days ago you were utterly unable to do anything and you'd entered a depth of misery that I've never seen before but now you seem… almost normal.'

Sherlock stared into the man's bright blue eyes which were slightly crinkled in concern.

'I'm not normal.'

'Okay but normal for you.'

'I don't know. Maybe I'm getting better maybe, because yesterday and today I've actually felt OK. I've felt like I might get better because it's been a long time since I've had a good patch but tomorrow it won't be the same.'

'Why?'

'I can already feel myself slipping back into the patterns of my illness even though I don't want to but, as long as you stay I think I can get through.'

'I'll stay, you know I will.'

'I know.'

John leaned across so his face was mere inches from Sherlock's and he placed his hand on Sherlock's. Sherlock jittered at the unexpected touch but John's hand still covered his with a grounding promise.

'And you will get through this.'

'No John.'

'What?' John's face creased in confusion.

'We will get through this.'

John beamed and Sherlock beamed back, Sherlock reached for John's other hand. Sherlock looked down into his lap and then gently took his hands out of John's and pulled him into a strong hug. Their equally muscular arms held the other up and Sherlock rested his chin on John's head. They stayed like that for a long time and when they parted, only smiles were exchanged.