To John,

Enjoy your holiday. Tell Mary also, if you please. Yes I suspect getting 'London our of your lungs' will no doubt do you a world of good. My leg is a little better by the way. No crutches now, seems it was not a bad break. I have to use a cane. It's very frustrating.

If you feel that is what is best, then go ahead with your book. I am not sure what will come of it but once done I would love for you to forward me a copy of possible. Where I will be at that time I do not know.

Yes, it is so sad that you did not get to spend much time with your friend. I know how you feel exactly. Unfortunately these things happen, good things are struck down before their time.

I shall write to you soon, hope you are well.

Normund

Mary sat quietly at John's bedside, stroking his hair. They had allowed her to stay despite not being a family member. Why, she did not know, but she was very grateful. John's sister had been notified but was unable to travel down at this time, so Mary was his only comforter.

John lay lifeless on the white sheets, his head bandaged, his body hooked up to a few machines. He'd lost a great deal of blood. There was no doubt in Mary's mind that this had been deliberate. The car did not even stop, it had simply driven away as if it had hit nothing. Except it had. It had hit John Watson. Her John Watson. Mary's heart had stopped. He had fallen to the ground, his arm's spread out, his body bleeding.

And now he was fighting for his life. He was in a coma, two limps broken, ribs broken and who knows what else. They weren't even sure if he'd make it or not. Mary choked back a sob, trying to be brave but the tears kept coming, flooding down her cheeks as she held the uninjured hand of the man she loved and prayed he would come back to her.

There's been an accident...to be more precise, John has been in an accident -MH

Is it serious? - SH

…..Very. I have made sure he will receive the finest care available. I will update you if anything changes -MH

No. I'm coming back now -SH

You can't. You will be recognised! Do not endanger your mission Sherlock! John is in the best of hands -MH

I don't care, John is more important. I'm coming home. -SH

A day later and there was still no change. Mary came to hate the incessant beeping but it was her lifeline, as long as it beeped, John was still alive. Every hour she feared it might stop, but it kept on, playing his heartbeat for all to hear. Mary wiped her eyes, clasping her lover's hand tightly in her own. Was this how he felt? When he'd lost his best friend?

God, how did he manage? John was still alive and yet her heart was already breaking. The thought that he may never wake up or that he would simply slip away shook her to the core. They hadn't known each other for long but the impact he had made on her life was incredible. She could not imagine life without him.

"John...I don't know if you can hear me. But please, come back. Just..just for me. Just stop this. Please...wake up" Her voice broke and she cried into his sheets.

Mary woke a few hours later to find a doctor bandaging some of John's wounds. He wasn't the same doctor as before, but she supposed the other man might was busy with other patients. This one had short blonde hair, a moustache and glasses. He was very very tall. And quite slender. If she hadn't been so distraught she would have found him to be a bit of a cutie. But that was the last thing on her mind right now.

"I'm sorry, I must have dozed off. A..Are you his new doctor?"

"No, I am simply filling in for Dr. Peterson. He was unavailable"

"Oh...how is John?..Please tell me he's going to be ok" Mary's voice broke once more and she covered her mouth, her eyes filling up with tears. The doctor looked down at his patient, whose torso he was delicately wrapping up. The level of concern in his eyes surprised Mary but she pushed it aside. The man must really care about his patients.

"I wish I could tell you it will all be ok. But I am a practical man, we both know it is not. However, should he pull out of this coma soon I am convinced he will make a full recovery. " The doctor stood, brushing back a stray blonde strand.

"After all he is a military man, no stranger to injuries. And he is a doctor. Yes, I am confidently he will pull through" The man gave Mary a tiny smile before fixing up his shirt and turning to leave.

"I'm sorry... I didn't catch your name?" He paused as if he was thinking carefully about his answer.

"House. Doctor House"

It was only after he had left did Mary wonder how he knew he was a doctor and a soldier. No one had told Doctor Peterson or the hospital...

Doctor House walked at a quick pace down the hallways and corridors of St Barts until he reached the back of the building and went outside. A black car was waiting for him. He climbed inside and it drove off, leaving the hospital behind.

"How did it go?"

The man didn't respond. He removed his glasses, placing them in a case beside him. Then off came the moustache and false nose. He placed those in another small case. The white coat was peeled off and folded on the seat beside him.

"Sherlock..."

"How do you think, Mycroft?"

His brother cleared his throat. "I told you, he is getting the best care possible" Sherlock leaned back, his foot tapping, his hands fidgeting. "That's not good enough. This never should have happened. He was supposed to be safe. You promised me he would be safe! And now he's lying in a hospital bed. Possibly dying, currently in a coma. I can't even sit by his bedside and...I don't know what people do. So no Mycroft, it did not go well!" The fidgeting continued, Sherlock kept looking outside as the buildings went by. Mycroft sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"He went after the car, by the time we realised who was in it, it was too late, it had turned around and ...well, you know the rest" Sherlock glared at his older sibling. Strictly speaking it was not Mycroft's fault. Sherlock in fact blamed his absence as a factor in John's accident. If Sherlock had been there this never would have happened. Sherlock had died so John would be safe. Not for him to end up in hospital.

Sherlock desperately wanted to go to his friend. He wasn't sure what he would do. He missed him so much but he could never admit it. A horrible thought had suddenly occurred to him. What if John died? What if he died never knowing his best friend still lived? Or worse, what if he just never woke up? Sherlock felt his throat and chest constrict with emotion. A reaction he had not been expecting. His body was physically crying out for him to run to his friend.

Oh John, you would supposed to stay out of danger. I didn't leap off that roof for you to get hit by a car. You idiot! What were you thinking running after him? This is all my fault. Please don't die. Please wake up. Even if I have to don a hundred disguises to speak at your side to wake you. Just don't leave me. I won't be able to handle it. You're stronger than me John Watson. You have handled my death well.

I won't be able to handle yours.