A/N: That awkward moment when it's been like a month and a half since you last updated... So sorry! The last few weeks man, have been CRAZY. Fun Fact: I am actually planning on writing a musical, and as I was thinking about possible plots, I remembered that I had an unfinished story on here and rushed to the website! So I'm back! YAY MAGS!

Aaaaaaand here is the continuation of Who Am I? Enjoy!

"John?"

"Oh, thank God," I breathed. Well, barely breathed. I lowered my head onto the cot and tried to regain my breath.

"John, what are you doing? Where am I? And why am I in a hos-," suddenly he paused, and I saw the realization creep into his eyes. "Oh."

"Oh?" I asked. "That's all you have to say is 'Oh.' Are you fucking kidding me, Sherlock?"

"John, there is certainly no need to cur-."

"SHUT UP. JUST SHUT UP, SHERLOCK," I yelled. Just then, a swarm of nurses crowded into the room and began checking his vitals and such. The entire time, I stood in the corner of the room, with what I'm sure a mixture of pain, anger, and a slight hint of relief on my face. His eyes never wavered from mine. I decided to leave the room to call Abbey, because I"m sure she wouldn't want to be the last one to know. Then, I would call Lestrade, Molly, and Mrs. Hudson. It might've just been my imagination, but Sherlock looked as though he was about to cry as I left the room.

About an hour later when the doctors were all through with him, and Sherlock was all through screaming at the doctors, I was told that he could go home the next morning, after they were able to supervise him throughout the night to make sure there were no everlasting problems.

Considering Sherlock hadn't eaten in over a week, (which really isn't that strange even when he isn't comatose), I went down to the cafeteria and brought him up some food.

I walked in the room and was surprised when I saw Abby sitting in the chair next to the cot, whispering indistinctly to Sherlock. They both looked up as the door opened.

"Abbey," I began. "I didn't know you were here."

"Yep. Just got here. Thought I'd make sure Sher was feeling himself again," she said with a slight smile.

"Do not call me Sher, that is not my name," he retorted.

"Yeah, he's feeling himself alright. Abbey, could you give us a minute?" She nodded, squeezed Sherlock's hand, and left the room. I set the food down on the bedside table and took her seat next to him.

"Before you say anything, you are eating that food. No exceptions," I said with my army voice. Sherlock took a look at the food, then me, then the food again, and after deciding he couldn't win, began to eat.

Several minutes of silence passed before it was broken.

"Why?"

I looked at Sherlock. I knew what he was asking. He was asking why I angry at him, because even drug-withdrawal Sherlock could tell when I was upset with him. He wanted to know why I could barely look him in the eyes with either crying or breaking his nose.

"Because you're better than this, Sherlock. And before you interrupt me, yes you are! You. Are. Brilliant. Which is why I don't understand why you had to go mess around with heroin. What could possibly drive you to do that, Sherlock? Please, just tell me." Abbey's words echoed in my mind: "Because you rejected him!" I was brought back to reality when he answered.

"Please don't leave me, John."

"What?"

"You're not going to leave me now, are you, John?" He looked so genuinely scared, I didn't know whether to cry or laugh because of this strange out-of-character look.

"Oh, Sherlock," again, Abbey's words spun in my head: "All his life, he's been alone." I reached over and took hold of his hand.

"No, Sherlock. I'm not gonna leave. Not now, not ever. Do you understand me?"

The first genuine smile I've seen in a long while crept up unto his face.

"Yes, John."

A/N: Yes, yes, I know, sorta short-ish. This is just a filler, I'll get back to regular updates soon.

Fluff, fluff, fluffy. Wow. Aye, reviews (or PM's) are love! Spread the love, y'all!