I Wish...I had someone saying me these...

"When will we go home John?"

Sherlock was very happy to see John in the same position before when he woke up. Though he was unaware of his absence when he was deep in sleep. John had let out a sigh of relief when he had reached his very clingy patient before he opened his eyes. The less cranky than before patient was being spoon fed by the doctor right now who gave him a questioning look at the question.

What? Doesn't he want to come back now? I thought he had forgiven me. Hasn't he? Then why is he here catering to my needs and whims? Oh please John don't do this again!

Sherlock thought with the last spoon full soup still in his mouth. Eyes wide, questioning, apprehensive, searching.

John fought very hard internally to control his humour at the face in front of him. Then he gravely said

"Sherlock, maybe this is not the right time to talk about this."

Sherlock's face fell as he swallowed. His heart sank at the words. John hadn't forgiven him. He was not coming back.

John felt sad looking at that face but things needed to be sorted out for the sake of future protection. Protection of Sherlock from John, because if Sherlock did anything as stupid as he did before this time the good doctor would become the bad doctor and it'll be his knife and Sherlock's stomach and not in the operation theatre.

Sherlock was silent, looking away.

"Look Sherlock, whatever happened before…"

"For that I am sorry."

"It's okay, but that doesn't change things back."

"What does John?" Sherlock looked into John's eyes. Grey blue eyes pleading, I'll do anything to get you back.

At that very moment Sarah entered the room.

Why is she here? Is she here for John? Doesn't she know that things are good between us again? Doesn't she know John doesn't need her anymore? Or does he? Is she the reason?

Sherlock got angry without any apparent reason. He just couldn't show his anger because of that. He needed some occasion to vent his anger on Sarah.

"Hello John, came to see your patient. How's he doing?"

"Fine." Came a curt reply from a very grave baritone.

Sarah pursed her lips to hold back a grin and looked at John who was equally amused. Sherlock got angrier at not getting the joke.

"It's nice of you Sarah, would you like to…" John was cut off mid-sentence by the baritone.

"Leave now?"

John looked apologetically at Sarah suppressing another grin. Sarah looked equally amused.

"No! I think I'll spend some time here." She said energetically looking for a place to sit. John showed her the stool and she sat looking at Sherlock who was infuriated and looking sternly at John.

"John I think I can get infected by people from outdoors." He said with a very serious face.

"Are you kidding? Sarah's a doctor!"

"She's a psychiatrist. I have a stab wound and it's not psychosomatic, I don't think I need her expert opinion right now."

"Oh! I'm just here to keep John company." Sarah said looking sweetly at John who returned the look.

Something inside Sherlock just burned. He wanted to throw Sarah out of the window. He wanted to shake John back to his senses.

"John doesn't need company. He. Has. Me." Sherlock hissed at Sarah.

"Not lately." Sarah made an innocent face.

"Well now he has!" Sherlock almost screamed.

It startled them both.

"He doesn't need you anymore Sarah and he'll never need you again. Please leave us." Sherlock said panting, trying hard to regain his composure.

Sarah got up from her seat looking least affected, John and Sarah exchanged a look which Sherlock could not decipher and she went away saying

"I hope he doesn't."

As the door closed behind her Sherlock looked at John who was very successfully keeping up a serious face.

"That was not a good thing to do Sherlock. She helped me when…"

"That is past now John. Look at me I am here." Sherlock said pleading.

"You're in a hospital Sherlock, because you were hurt. You'll get well soon and leave again." John said looking at the soup bowl in his hands.

"

Not without you." Sherlock said with finality.

"Why would I come with you?" John asked incredulously.

"Because I love you. You know it. don't deny it. I hate myself for not knowing it and not running after you when I finally did understand. I'm a fool, I'm an idiot. I don't deserve you and you don't deserve a git like me. But it can't be helped now. If I have to live my life in this hospital, in this bed, as much injured and in pain just to have you beside me like this all the time, I am ready to get stabbed every day for the rest of my life."

Time stood still. So did John's heart.

Did he actually say those things? Or am I imagining?

"Once you told me when we were in Lincolnshire, that when two people love each other they form a relationship."

John nodded, still not believing what he was hearing, eyes wide, mouth slightly opened.

"I want to change everything I did and say and think before that and what I did and say afterwards. I just want to go back to that moment and take you in my arms and say, John we have formed it a long time ago."

John let out a breath from his mouth, he had to look away to check his tears from falling.

"Sherlock do you even know…"

"No John, I don't know. I don't know anything about love, relationships, feelings, I hardly know enough about friendship. All I know is my work John. And the fact that since I met you, you've made me work. When you left I didn't work anymore."

John looked at Sherlock warily thinking he was going back to the phase where he thought John was useful to him.

"By work I mean solving cases, by work I mean thinking properly, by work I mean remembering to eat, by work I mean to remember that I am not a machine, by work I mean to live properly, by work I mean to breathe properly."

Sherlock was anxious, agitated, he was in pain. He was sitting for a far too long time, he was struggling with his breath and wincing with pain. John got up and put the bowl down. He straightened Sherlock's bed so he was lying now. Sherlock's eyes never left John, enquiring, earnest, sincere. When John was done he took his hand and put it on his beating heart. John shivered at the touch and the feeling of the beating. This heart belonged to him. He could hardly breathe, he feared if he breathed the tear drops he was so carefully holding up will fall unceremoniously, giving him away again.

"I want to compensate John, the time lost not knowing myself, not knowing you. I want to compensate my harsh words to you which pierced you and left you bloody with words as soothing as a sociopath like me can manage. I want to compensate the hurt I've caused you with my life."

John swallowed closing his eyes. It was now just impossible to control the tears. They just seeped out on their own.

"I ask you to forgive me for only one thing." Sherlock was panting now, all the talking and emotional outburst was having a toll on him, but he couldn't stop now. He feared that if all this didn't come out today, they won't ever get a chance to come out ever again. He spoke with all he had.

"For letting you go. I shouldn't have ever let you and I would never again."

John stroked Sherlock's hair with his free hand and said in a choked voice almost inaudible

"Please sleep Sherlock."

"Don't leave me John"

"I won't."

Sherlock let out a deep breath closing his eyes for a moment, as if relieved. John sat next to him holding his hand in his, pressing light kisses on it, looking at Sherlock until he fell asleep.

John never knew he could cry so much, that too when he was overwhelmingly happy.