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Chapter 20

Three days. Seventy-two hours.

That's how long it took for Sherlock to finally wake up. He had had approximately twelve different kinds of drugs in his system, all of which could be lethal in too large doses, so they clearly hadn't meant to actually kill him with the drugs, just immobilize until they had decided what to do. He had also had a lot of minor cuts on his chest and arms, and the gash across his forehead which had been stitched up.

John hadn't left Sherlock's bedside more than about three hours in total. The second day Mycroft had sent him home to get a shower, change his clothes and get some sleep. John had agreed to the first two alternatives, but he had returned within an hour, too worried about Sherlock to keep himself away for any longer. Mycroft had been there a lot of the time during the days, though they had barely taken any notice of each other, both of them lost in thoughts and hopes that Sherlock would wake up as soon as possible. Lestrade had popped by in the evenings, tried to chat a bit with John and then dragged a reluctant Mycroft home to his (their?) flat.

On the third day however, Lestrade had taken the day off and were sitting alongside Sherlock's bed, holding Mycroft's hand and throwing anxious glances at John. John was silently jealous of them, having each other all…living. He looked at Sherlock. Over the past days he had really realized just how much the other man meant to him. At first, it had looked like he weren't even going to make it since the large doses of too many different drugs had momentarily made his heart stop. It had been the worst hours of John's life. He didn't know what he would do if he'd lost Sherlock. Again. And he would never have forgiven himself for not making things right between them. They hadn't even seen each other for three days since their fight which, at the moment, seemed like a childish whim. And even though Sherlock had actually asked John for help despite all that, John still felt a little anxious at how Sherlock would react once he saw John.

John didn't have to ponder on that for much longer. He gasped as the lifeless hand he held in his own for three days suddenly twitched. Sherlock's fingers flexed and he closed them around John's. He slowly opened his eyes and tried to fix them on something. They ended up on John and Sherlock seemed to decide that he was safe. John quickly kicked into the doctor-mode again, and he started to examine Sherlock's pupils. "Sherlock how are you feeling? Does it hurt anywhere? Are you tired?" John sounded almost desperate. But Sherlock just smiled, closed his eyes and said in a weak voice

"You are here John. I'm feeling fantastic." John was a bit taken aback by the words, and asked hesitantly "Are…are you sure?"

"Of course I am. I love you John."

John felt how his blush rose on his cheeks, and glanced over at Mycroft and Lestrade. They were conveniently enough not looking at them at the moment, and John secretly thanked Lestrade for being so delicate as to direct Mycroft's attention elsewhere. He felt as though his heart would burst, but he was also painfully aware that Sherlock were dizzy and might say just about anything at the moment. Sherlock had already fallen asleep again, but John felt immensely relieved just knowing that he would be alright. He even accepted to go out for a bit, and he and Lestrade went to a nearby restaurant to eat something, while Mycroft remained with his brother.

Sherlock's words went round and round in John's head, and Lestrade seemed to understand that talking weren't really an option. He texted a few people about something work-related, but they ate in silence. Sherlock had said 'I love you'. He had actually said that. John didn't hesitate for a second that he loved Sherlock, that much had been pretty obvious for a long time. But he still found it a bit hard to believe the words when they came from Sherlock. He was not in his right mind at the moment. What if he didn't even remember saying that to John? Or even worse, what if he hadn't meant if? John cringed, but decided to deal with that eventual problem later, he had worried too much these last days that any sane person in the same situation would go crazy.

John and Lestrade left the restaurant an hour later and found Sherlock sitting up straight and talking to Mycroft. He seemed to be back a bit at his usual self, because he snapped at Mycroft, although he didn't seem to put much effort in it. He looked tired, but his eyes shone when John entered the room, his gaze immediately fixing on him and completely blocking Mycroft out. Mycroft sighed, said goodbye to John and his rude brother, took Lestrade by the hand and closed the door.

"Your brother has been here for almost the entire time, waiting for you to wake up. You might consider be a bit grateful or at least try to be…polite." John said. But Sherlock just rolled his eyes.

"Why on earth should I spend time talking to my annoying brother when you are here John?"

John wondered I Sherlock was still a bit high. Maybe he had increased his morphine-dose? It wouldn't be the first time. But it seemed like the praise came from an un-affected Sherlock. John had still a bit hard to adapt to the praise so he just smiled at Sherlock, raising a hand to brush away some curls from Sherlock's face. They sat there for what felt like hours just looking at each other. They were interrupted by a doctor that came in and checked in on Sherlock. She told them that he could probably go home the following day, as long as he promised to rest for at least a week. Sherlock had opened his mouth as if to argue at this, but John had quickly promised that he would make sure Sherlock stayed off chasing bad guys for a week. She left, and they were once again alone.

The atmosphere was a bit weird, in John's opinion. Sherlock seemed like he had re-discovered John and threw him compliments at random times. They didn't talk about the past days; it was a bit too early for that. Finally, the tiredness overcame Sherlock and he tried to convince John to share his bed. John sighed, eventually giving up and climbing up the bed next to Sherlock. Sherlock immediately snuggled under John's arm, and within five minutes they were both asleep.