A/N thank you for the follows and for making this a favourite! :)
Sherlock hurried down to John's room, whilst texting Mycroft. He knew his brother wouldn't be there, he would be with Lestrade.
The corridors seemed to shift endlessly as he continued on his trek. The game was definitely on.
He stopped and saw the room. Putting one hand on the door, he hesitated going in. What if John didn't want to know him? What if he already hated, for not being there? What if...but all his thoughts stopped. He remembered Molly's words,
"How do you know you won't be a good dad?"
He didn't, he could only assume. Sherlock had to find out the evidence for himself.
He opened the door, no nurses were in there. Suddenly a vibration sounded in his pocket. He pulled it out and opened a text from Mycroft,
'Nurses have gone for a while, to give you a little time with John. But for goodness sake, if he starts to wake up, press the call button.'
-M.H
Sherlock smiled a bit at this. As he pulled out a chair (that was conveniently put next to John) and sat down.
He looked down out his son. A bruise lay across his temple. His soft delicate arms lay across the blanket. They had several IV lines in them and a numerous amounts of scars. They were cigarette burns, bruises and distant knife marks.
Sherlock sighed and put his head in his hands.
"That stupid, stupid women!" He growled out in frustration.
Sherlock thought John looked so innocent, so fragile and so very delicate.
And that women has just scrawled on him. That women sought out a rose and poured toxic on to it, while mocking it.
However Sherlock looked up again. John was still standing, John was still breathing, John was still...alive.
"Just as persistent as a Holmes then." He chuckled to himself.
Looking up at John Shelock spoke,
"You know when you wake up...for once I won't know what to say. Oh sure I might improvise something, but you will make the first Holmes ever speechless." He smiled to himself at this and then paused. Taking a deep sigh, Sherlock continued.
"I know she wasn't good for you and I know you might think that it's your fault, but it's not. I never want you think this, however I know you will. You will never be to blame for anything that has happened before today." He hesitated. "If you choose to accept me, I promise I will always support you no matter what. Every nightmare that occurs, every time you have your heart broken, every time you feel ill, I will be there. Always. He stopped, he felt tears fill his eyes. No he wouldn't do that. He would not be break down. "Just think, I could teach you to dance. You know I'm rather good. Don't tell Mycroft though, or Lestrade, or...well just don't mention it to anyone. It will just be our little secret." Sherlock laughed.
"You are so strong, you have made it past all this. You're not in captivity any more, you're on the side of freedom. You can be an eagle and fly or stay on the ground and run as fast as cheetah. You can do anything you want. You are my strong little soldier..."
Before Sherlock could continue, the heart monitor sped up. Didn't this mean he was waking up? Sherlock instantly pressed the call button. He gazed up at John, just as his young soldier's eyes opened.