CREDIT BELONGS WHERE CREDIT IS DUE

Chapter 8

Why did Sherlock have to ask this now? I cannot answer it, though it pains me for not being able to do so. I want to know what brought us here too.

"John, why am I here? People die in hospitals. I thought you liked me. I do not intend to die any time soon. I had always thought my life would be cut short, given my profession, but to die in the near coming future is considered "jumping the gun", don't you think?"

"Sherlock, your flair for sarcasm never ceases even when you're ill. How that is ever so is beyond me!"

Sherlock sniggered softly before responding. "My mind is superior to yours, of course I can function when not feeling up to my normal standards. I take that the doctors have sedated me mildly. My mind is feeling sluggish. I remember you telling me to take some pills and later on I heard a lot of commotion. It was very annoying and difficult for me to concentrate." Sherlock rasped.

"Sherlock, this is not the time to discuss your present condition. You need to regain your strength and let the sedative leave your system. Ok? Try not to do anything rash while I go speak with the doctor.", John spoke quickly.

"Fine.", Sherlock said in a soft but clipped voice. "Do not be away for too long or I might get bored and do something "rash", according to your words.

Returning a couple hours later, John shuffles in to Sherlock's room with a heavy heart. There are time when he wished he was oblivious to the world of medicine. Maybe "ignorance was bliss" in these circumstances…

As soon as John opened the door Sherlock sighed loudly and spoke softly. Though it was obvious the light still pained his head and eyes, Sherlock fought to keep his eyes open thus having the ability for analysing every part of John from head to toe. He needed answers just as much needed them too.

He saw.

He understood perfectly.

"Tell me John. Be direct about it. You have received information that is troubling; no doubt it is about my reasons for lying on this hospital bed. You're hiding information hoping it is wrong, that the doctors are wrong but deep down you know they are not. Your left hand is twitching again uncontrollably. No, it is not from stress-though clearly you are stressed as your appearance is dishevelled- but more so from concern or worry. You know information that is not good to put it mildly. What is it, or are you going to have me deduce it fully?"

John held his hands together in attempt to stop it and just stood in the by door awkwardly looking at the wall with the saddest expression Sherlock had ever seen the doctor wear.

Sherlock's heart sank as he saw the hand tremble even when being held firmly.

"I thought I had fixed that! Why does his hand still tremble?! I thought I had fixed John. There has to be an answer to everything. Everything is an experiment. Every experiment has answers, 'nothing' is not answer, and rather it is a lack of having and answers. John was full and whole again. His life was transformed to have meaning, more meaning that scraping a meagre existence on an army pension. His limp better not come back! It cannot! That would surely break his spirit. It is psychosomatic, that can be cured. I fixed him. John is happy now. John! What's happened to you? Why are you reverting to your past ways? I am going to be fine, just you wait and see. Soon we will be chasing criminals all across London again- perhaps even chasing cabbies, those are your personal favourite are not they?

Why John!? Is the news really that terrible for both of us?

A-N: A-N: Thank you for reading and thank you for all your lovely comments. They are the highlight of my day when I find messages and review. Enjoy the continuation. As always, voice your opinions- I'd like to hear them.

Best wishes to each of you!
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