Chapter 5

The first weeks after the explosion were not easy for Sherlock. The life in 221b Baker Street had changed rapidly. And though his brain had been always adapting very fast to new situations he struggled with their altering everyday life.

It was now his task to buy the groceries. He tried it twice and after queuing up for hours he decided that delivery service would be better. The housework, doing the laundry was strange land for him. He tried to give his best, but now and then he failed. Cooking for example was out of his grasp. Tea and some fried eggs he could manage, but with peeling potatoes he reached the end of his patience. One day he had tried to cook a whole meal. The kitchen had looked like one of his experiments had exploded. After that experience, he had decided that it had to be sandwiches or takeaway for dinner. Also, he had to remind himself constantly that John needed food on a regularly basis. So he had set three daily recurring alarms in his blackberry.

But these were only the visible changes. After a while Sherlock noticed other changes as well. He missed John's rumbling and complaining. John had made a lot of noises. His running up and down the stairs if he needed some air or was late for work always caused some sounds. Slamming the doors of course was John´s last resort if he had lost another argument (or found body parts where they didn't belong). He always complained about the mess which Sherlock had caused with an experiment in the kitchen or his smug comments about making tea for them. Sherlock missed all that. So he began to make some the noises himself. He clattered with the dishes. He now slammed the doors and rumbled down the stairs. One day Sherlock realized that he had adopted some of John's habits and turned to tell him, but stopped dead after the first words. John wouldn't answer.

He had tried the television as a constant background noise, but after half a day he gave up. He could not concentrate with this disturbing crap. So the flat remained silent most of the day. Sometimes, when the silence grew too loud, Sherlock sat in the armchair opposite John and he read something out to him. Or he took his violin and played whatever melody crossed his mind.

Music always had been Sherlock's secret passion. Playing the violin was his way to transport his feelings. It was his way to show his humanity that he was hiding behind the façade of the sociopath so well. Most of the time he communicated anger and frustration with his music because the solution of the actual case was close but out of reach, but when he now played for John he tried to show affection and understanding. Due to this change he also played different songs. If the music had been harsh and impatient before it now had become sweet and slow.

It was on one of these occasions when Sherlock noticed a change in John. The afternoon had been very quiet and he decided to play for John. Normally he played only if he had to solve a case. John had asked him a few times to play for him, but Sherlock had always refused. He closed his eyes and dived into the music.

At the end of the sonata he opened his eyes again. John had tilted his head like he was listening. Appalled by this sight Sherlock stopped his play at once. Slowly John moved his head back and for a short second Sherlock thought he could see some kind of disappointment on John's face. But he wasn't sure if his interpretation of the tiny flicker in John's facial expression was correct. So he raised the instrument again. A few notes of music had flown into the room as he saw it again. Slowly John laid his head to one side, closed his eyes and relaxed visibly. From that day on Sherlock played the violin only for John.

A few days later the same happened when he read something to John. His dark and velvet voice made something tingle inside John. He bent his upper part of the body slightly as if he wanted to listen closer.

Sherlock wasn't sure if he found a way to make the connection. Playing and reading could be the help that John needed to guide him back to life. He allowed himself to hope, that one day John would ask for more.

Another task he dreaded much was that he had to explain to John's sister Harriet and Mrs. Hudson what had happened. Both reacted in their own way to the bad news.

Harry had been drunk as Sherlock called her. He had tried to tell what had happened, but he hadn't been sure whether she had really understood the seriousness of John's state. However, he felt, he had fulfilled his duty. Harry had promised to visit soon, but Sherlock was sure that she was going to break that promise as soon as she opened her next bottle.

To inform Mrs. Hudson was not so easy all together. He invited her for tea into their flat. He let her in and busied himself in the kitchen by putting the kettle on. Of course she noticed immediately that John did not react as usual with the polite empty phrases to her chatter. As usual he sat in his armchair. Sherlock had shaved him this morning so John looked presentable. This was the only part in nursing John that was difficult for Sherlock. He had to help him with the body care. And John wasn't capable of shaving.

Sherlock seated her on the sofa and tried to explain what had happened. He also translated the diagnosis of the doctors what he thought was into understandable English. Mrs. Hudson was horrified.

„Oh, my Dear! Poor Dr. Watson! How could such an awful thing happen to him?" She seemed shocked. She turned her head and watched John carefully. "No sign of consciousness since then? But where is Dr. Watson? He must be somewhere in there, mustn't he?"

"Oh he is conscious. He knows exactly what is going on around him. He is just not in the mood to talk, if you know what I mean." Sherlock replied.

"Isn't there something one can do to help?" Mrs. Hudson shifted in her seat.

Sherlock got up and went to the kitchen to get the tea. He placed one cup on the coffee table for Mrs. Hudson. One cup he put on the side table next to John's armchair. He watched John automatically reaching out for his tea, and he turned to look at the landlady.

"That is...that is... I´m sorry Sherlock, but that is creepy." Mrs. Hudson shuddered.

"Yes, it is." Sherlock took a sip of tea and walked slowly to the window. As he observed the life outside the flat he said hoarsely "I've taken him to the best specialists in the city. They all state the same diagnosis. They all advise me to give John time to heal. They say that he will get better without any medication."

After a few minutes of silence he could hear Mrs. Hudson rising from the sofa. He turned to see her standing next to John. She patted his shoulder and with a nod in Sherlock's direction she left the flat.