I spent the rest of the night in Sherlock's hospital room. No matter what me or any of the doctors suggested, he absolutely refused to sleep. Instead, we just talked. Abbey came in for a while, but mostly, it was just me and Sherlock. It might've taken me a while to notice it, but it's kind of always been 'Me and Sherlock.'
We talked of a lot of things: cases, what had happened in the last week, and he even asked me about his skull, but neither of us mentioned the kiss, the heroin, or anything that happened that day. I think that both of us really wanted to avoid the subject.
Sherlock was discharged from the hospital at 11am the next morning, and both Abbey and I accompanied him in the taxi that took him back to 221B Baker Street.
"Well, here we are. Flat, sweet flat. Sherlock, I'm making some lunch and I won't hear any complaining. Abbey, could you give me a hand?" I said.
"Yeah, sure," she replied. I heard Sherlock taking his stuff to his room.
When Abbey joined me in the kitchen, she had an odd look on her face. Excited, almost.
"So?"
"So, what?" Was I missing something?
"So? What happened? Did you kiss him yet?" She was almost trembling with anticipation of what she thought I was going to say.
"Kiss him? Who, Sherlock? And why would I do that?" I asked, dumbfounded.
"Man, you're thick. Because you love him!"
"Oh, Abbey, give it a rest. It's more complicated than that."
She sighed. "Oh, John. It really isn't." She made her way back to the living room and sat down on the sofa. "All you have to do is-"
She didn't get the chance to complete her sentence before the flat exploded.
"Abbey! Sherlock! Where are you!?" I screamed, but my voice was getting hoarse. I would get up to try and find them, but my leg is pinned. I don't think it's broken, but I definitely won't be able to remove it by myself. Suddenly, I hear steps coming towards me. The explosion caused a lot of dust and other things to invade the air, so I can't see a thing. I soon feel hands on my shoulders and my face, and recognize them as Sherlock's.
"John! John, are you alright? Is anything broken?" He asked at a million miles per hour.
"Yes, Sherlock, I'm fine. But I can't get my leg out. Help me lift this. On one, two, three!" With our combined efforts, we're able to free my leg from underneath the rubble.
"Sherlock, have you seen Abbey?"
Just then, we heard someone yell. We made our way to the place we heard it come from. There we found her, lying on the ground, but thankfully with nothing worse on her than a few scratches.
"Abbey, are you hurt?" This is the first time I've ever seen Sherlock display any sort of concern over Abbey.
"I... I remember."
"Remember what, Abbey?" I asked.
"Stop calling me that, that isn't my name! I remember who I am, John. Oh my God, I remember." She looked terrified.
"Well, isn't that a good thing? Looks like all you needed was a good knock on the head," I say, trying to lighten the mood a bit.
"No, it's not good! It's awful!" She yelled.
"Why is it awful?" Sherlock asked.
"Because you guys are going to die, and it's all my fault."
A/N: Dun dun duuuuuuun!