John awoke with a shout and was practically hyperventilating by the time he was fully conscious. Sherlock noticed John tossing and turning and at first, was concerned that his friend was in pain. But when John awoke, frantic and shouting, Sherlock knew that this was a nightmare.

Sherlock was at his side in an instant.

"John? John, look at me. You're safe. You're in the hospital. Everything's going to be alright." He gently, but firmly grasped John's wrists as his hands momentarily turned to fists as his fight or flight response was triggered. John looked into Sherlock's eyes and his fists relaxed and Sherlock guided his hands down to his side.

He was still breathing erratically, though. Sherlock was speaking in a tone that he rarely used. It was genuine, a tone he usually only used with John, or someone Sherlock was close to, when they were in distress. Laced in with his sincerity was also concern and more noticeable, apprehension. Did John remember him?

"That's good, John. Can you breathe with me now? Just breathe."

Sherlock breathed in through his nose, held it for a few seconds, then let it out of his mouth slow. He was used to this routine. He had seen John wake up from nightmares before and usually Sherlock would play his violin for him after helping him calm down with his grounding exercises. John repeated Sherlock's breathing exercises as Sherlock ran soothing circles over his knuckles with his fingers.

"How are you feeling?" Sherlock asked.

"Like shit." John croaked, leaning back against his pillows, rubbing tears from his eyes.

Sherlock reached over onto the nearby table and put a cup of cold water with a straw up to John's mouth. He drank gratefully.

"Are you in much pain?"

"Head's a bit sore. So's my chest." He said, coughing.

"Do you… remember who I am?" hesitated Sherlock.

John furrowed his brow and Sherlock was sure his friend was going to deny knowing him again. But to his surprise John responded with an, "What? Course I do. You're bloody Sherlock Holmes. World's only consulting detective."

Sherlock gave a tiny grin and let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding.

While it seem like John was having a little trouble with talking still, he was remembering. Maybe whatever drug was in his system was finally wearing off.

John, confused as ever and irritated, asked, "What the h-hell happened?"

Sherlock sobered up in an instant as the smile disappeared from his face.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"I was interviewing Ms. Richards."

Sherlock could tell that John was getting tired and annoyed with his occasional lisp and stutter.

"Right. Well. A man attacked you. He drugged you with a frankly impressive cocktail of drugs that practically killed you. Your… heart stopped." Sherlock gulped and averted his eyes momentarily away from John's.

" You've been in an out of consciousness for almost 3 days now. You couldn't remember anything." Explained Sherlock. He deliberately left out a few details, but also didn't want to overwhelm John.

"I see," said John. He was obviously growing tired and his body was protesting every moment of him being awake. His eyes drifted shut, but he had so many questions. He tried fighting it.

" I've got quest-questions." His voice trailed off at the end.

"I can answer them later. Do rest now, John." And Sherlock once again took John's hand and gave a gentle squeeze. Sherlock felt John gently squeeze back before he presumably fell asleep again.

John didn't get to sleep for long because Dr. Dembowski came in early to perform a thorough examination. Over the next several hours, there were many questions, testing of reflexes; even a couple of scans that Sherlock found hateful because he had to stay out.

The test results were all clear though, the drug had left John's system and any remaining side effects should theoretically subside in the upcoming days. Over the course of the next several hours, John's slurred speech began to clear up. The doctor wanted to keep John for one more day for observation, and then he could be released to go home to Baker Street with Sherlock.

In the meantime, night had fallen. Sherlock took his place next to John in his chair.

"Boy, I'll be glad to get out of here." John quipped.

"As will I."

"You could go home, you know. Get some sleep. You look like shit."

"Mmmm" hummed Sherlock in response.

"Have you even slept? It's been almost 4 days, and I know you hadn't slept before due to the case."

"John, you know I do not require the same amount of sleep as the average human being."

"That's not what I asked." John's eyebrows raised and he looked at Sherlock with concern.

Sherlock sighed. "I try to nap when you are sleeping. However, this chair is terribly uncomfortable." He said, even then shifting his weight.

"Why don't you go home then? I'll be fine here. I'm just going to be sleeping anyways. No need for you to be exhausted."

Sherlock was torn. He had to admit he was tired as hell and his brain was hardly functioning at this point. He cursed his transport. How could he leave John here? What if something happened? Guilt also gripped him tightly. He was responsible for why John was in that bed and while he couldn't do much to help the man recover medically, he could at least stay by his side for support.

"John, I'd really prefer if I stayed."

"No you don't. You hate hospitals. What's gotten into you?"

Sherlock leaned back in his chair, sighed, and looked away.

"Sherlock, look at me, I am your best friend. Talk to me. Clearly something is bothering you, so tell me what it is."

Sherlock suddenly felt a tightening in his chest. He knew the time for honesty was now, but damn he was so bad at conveying emotions.

A pause lingered while Sherlock thought of what to say, but John was ever the patient doctor and waited for his response.

"I am the reason you're sitting in that hospital bed." His voice was low, barely audible. He said it while looking down at his fingers that were anxiously tapping a repetitive rhythmic pattern on his thigh.

"Why do you feel responsible?" John asked. He wasn't actually confused. He knew why Sherlock felt responsible, but he wanted Sherlock to get it out of his head. So he spurred him on to talk more.

"That night…. we split up. I insisted. The man who attacked you was a… hit man hired by the drug smuggling group that I was investigating. They went after you because my cover was blown. I hadn't anticipated a member of the homeless network to be involved and recognize me. I was betrayed, but I escaped before they could kidnap me and got to you as quickly as I could. If we hadn't split up, if I had known the man would recognize me…." His voice trailed off and his hands went to his hair with his elbows on his knees.

Gentle but firm hands covered Sherlock's own and begged for Sherlock to release his curly locks. Sherlock let go.

"Sherlock Holmes, you are a complete git."

"…Sorry?" Sherlock was confused.

"Did you stick the needle in my neck and inject that drug into my system?"

"No. Certainly not, I would never do that to you." Sherlock said, sitting up a bit taller

in his bed, defensively.

"Right. I know that. You didn't put me here."

"You would not be here if it were not for me. If I hadn't been so stupid…" he was cut off as John pointed at him.

"Stop it. I never want to hear you call yourself stupid again. Sherlock, I am capable of handling myself. We both agreed to split up. I choose to go on dangerous adventures with you to solve crimes and catch criminals. I'm bound to get hurt every now and again, as are you. There's no sense in you torturing or blaming yourself over it."

His voice was sure and stern, like the voice of a commanding officer. There was no room for arguing and Sherlock knew it. He was still overcome with emotion. The thought of losing John was too great for him in that moment.

A tear slipped down his cheek.

"John there's something… I don't know how to say…. " his voice hitched.

"Take a breath." Said John, hand returning to Sherlock's.

People never saw this side of Sherlock. The ONLY person that was ever allowed to see Sherlock this vulnerable was John. Sure, some people may think that their relationship was more than platonic, but that wasn't true. Their friendship was something that was pure and simple, while arguably also containing parts that were increasingly complex and filled with shadows. There was just so much that went on that no one else knew about; their conversations, those precious moments after John had a nightmare, or Sherlock practically had a meltdown, they were all defining moments in their friendship.

"I know I've never said it before. But you are very important to me and I… care for you."

"I know." Responded John. "Come here."

Sherlock stood up from his chair but didn't know what he was supposed to do.

"Sit." John said as he patted the side of the bed.

Sherlock sat on the edge of the bed; one or two remaining silent tears still running down his cheeks.

John sat up and he put his arms around Sherlock's shoulders, effectively hugging him. At first, John felt Sherlock's body tense at the contact, but he relaxed and responded by wrapping both of his long arms around John as well and holding him tight. They stayed like that for a long time.

John may have let out a few silent tears of his own. John was the one that finally pulled away from the embrace. He kept both hands on Sherlock's shoulder and looked him in the eyes.

"I care about you, too, you brilliant git."

They both cracked a smile and the mood improved significantly.

"Go home. Get some rest. Come back tomorrow, and we'll get the hell out of here, alright?"

John could see the brief internal struggled that gripped Sherlock.

"I need some clothes and toiletries, too." John added, hoping that giving Sherlock a purpose for going home would get him to agree.

"Oh. Of course." John grinned to himself, pleased that his plan had worked.

"I'll come back straight away in the morning. If you need me, text me or call me, I'll turn the volume up on my phone." Sherlock stood up from the bed.

"Right." Sherlock said, seeming to still be torn about leaving.

"Well, get going! Remember, clothes, toothbrush, toothpaste –"

"UGH, yes, DULL!" Sherlock exclaimed walking towards the door.

John chuckled again. "Have a good night, Sherlock. See you in the morning."

Sherlock sniggered and walked out of the room.

Author's Note: This story will DEFINITELY be continuing with some new twists and turns hopefully coming in the next couple weeks. In the meantime, enjoy!