AN: First of all OH MY GOD eleven reviews? *Falls to knees weeping and praising the lord* thank you soooooooooooooo much I love you all very much although trakrat's review made me giggle because Fanfiction profanity filtered 'Hard on.' So thank you to: Fantasybean, Boxerbee, Trakrat, Xarime, I heart venomous tentaculas, and sarahsecrett as well as those who favourite or followed.

So, this chapter does have a prompt, rather than being dedicated to someone I work with. Although it is inspired by an incident that made my friend cry, but made me laugh. Very hard. So anyway, this was prompted by fantasybean in her awesomeness.

My brain is still not working correctly so I can't remember any proper speeches, so just review. Please. My brain starts working again when you do.

Lily

Has your past ever caught up with you? Mine has. Living with Sherlock it crops up quite considerably more often than I would hope for.

As you will probably have realised by now, when ill, injured, bored or simply petulant, Sherlock has all the wit, charm and charisma of a six year old child. Unfortunately this is combined with the vocabulary of an Oxford Master and the body of a thirty year old man-cum-spider.

But during the incident I am going to describe, he was deprived of his vocabulary (which I am ever thankful for) and well... I'd probably be better to just tell you.

I am not entirely clear on the details, but I had gone out for a few minutes to talk to mrs Hudson for a minute, when the sound of an explosion tore through the house.

Now, in any normal house, street or city, people would have been coming over to find out what on earth was going , since this was London, even a scream would have been ignored, this was Baker street and People were familiar with Sherlock and as to the house, see above. Naturally, Mrs Hudson and I waited for the noise to die down and then resumed our conversation.

It was only after there had been silence for maybe fifteen minutes that I began to worry.

On re-entering the flat I found Sherlock leant up against the kitchen counter with what looked horribly like... well I don't actually want to think about what it looked horribly like. Will it suffice that it was horrible?

In any case I approached with caution. Since this... thing had started with Sherlock, I felt considerably more obliged to help him.

'What happened, Sherlock?' I asked, picking my way across the sticky floor.

He looked blearily up at me and slurred 'John, my back hurts.'

Ah. Oh shit. I raised my voice slightly and I put my Dealing-with-children voice on 'Sherlock, can you look me in the eye?'

He raised his eyes to mine, I caught his chin and twisted his neck towards the light. His pupils were slightly dilated and I went to find my first aid kit

'Listen Sherlock I need to you to sit... WHAT have I put my hand in?'

He looked at me like I was mental 'I dno... John... back... hurts.' And then his eyes filled with tears as he tried to move away from the cupboard. I am ashamed, honestly, but I have to say my heart melted. And even worse, because concussion does make some people cute, he made those big baby-blues into puppy dog eyes 'John I need a hug.' Good god my knees went weak.

'Not yet Sherlock.' I said, eyeing the sticky black... substance that coated his skin and clothes.

'But Joooooooohhhhnnnnn...' he said, letting his head drop back against the cupboard. I looked at this man in front of me. Aged thirty, obviously in pain and now my... whatever this was. And now wearing puppy dog eyes and with tousled curls falling in to his face. I honestly couldn't help myself. I sat down in front of him and crossed my legs. I was almost immediately graced by nine stone three of consulting detective and sticky black... stuff, when Sherlock crawled into my lap, his skinny arms going round my waist and his head coming to rest under my chin.

I breathed in slowly. Even under the stink of... whatever, he still smelled good. I don't know how long I sat there with him in my lap, but after a few minutes I was aware of the stickiness under my hands drying and becoming tacky. I sighed and kissed the top of his head.

'Come on Sherlock, just strip, jump in the shower and I'll give you another hug ok? Please?'

He smiled annoyingly 'That is the most unromantic proposition I have ever received.'

I blushed fierily 'The concussion, Sherlock?'

He smiled again 'Previous to you walking in I was unconscious for a few seconds.'

I stared at him for a few seconds, getting more and more angry 'Really? You faked having concussion so you could get a hug from me?'

He rubbed his forehead and eyes 'No not exactly. I hurt my back and when I woke up I wasn't thinking straight. And I wanted a hug from my boyfriend.'

I flinched in surprise at this last. Sherlock looked up sharply 'Problem?' he asked

'No! No... I just... I didn't think you'd want to put labels on this.' I said beginning to smile.

He shrugged and got up slightly unsteadily. 'Thank you for the hug anyway.'

I sat back on my heels and smiled slightly, watching him walk away 'Piece of cake.'

AN: Ok probably no updates from today, because I'm out all day tomorrow and Thursday and the torch is coming to my town on Friday so I'm on duty that night, so no update, sorry. But I'll do one at the weekend. I promise. Now quick, Go review! Please!