Chapter Four

Sherlock was finally up and about of bed, and he was mostly his usual self; he was a little bit cold towards us all, arrogant and condescending, but definitely not as bad as he had been after waking up. Thank God. I don't think I would have managed to not hit him if he had kept acting like that.

He had started to get on the nurses' nerves with his insistence on getting out of bed, bounding about and picking apart every detail of the ward around him; he was bored of him mind. It drove the nurses round the bend, but none of them had been driven to tears as they had on his first day of consciousness.

Finally, after much pestering, I had agreed to take him with me on a brief trip around the hospital, in his wheelchair, so he could see a few more people and entertain himself with his deduction.

We were just passing the maternity ward, Sherlock pointing out a new mother's infidelity, when Sherlock gestured to me to stop beside the long window, which displayed the new-born babies in their plastic cots.

"John, could you give me a minute, please?" I was briefly confused by the use of the word please, but I agreed when he pressed some change into my hand, "Can you get me something from the vending machine?"

I returned a minute later, with a packet of skittles in hand, to the sight of Sherlock no longer in his wheelchair. I hung back slightly when I realised that he was talking to one of the women, who was looking forlorn as she watched her premature baby.

My first thought was to step forward and interrupt whatever insensitive words were spewing forth from his mouth, but I stopped upon realising that he was smiling an his voice was softer and kinder than I had ever heard, "I've always loved babies, and little Chloe's an absolute darling. I can see where she must get her looks; she already has your eyes."

I almost choked on the skittle I had been eating. What did he just say? Why was he being so nice? The woman was in tears, as was usual for conversation with Sherlock, but they seemed to be happy and comforted tears.

"Thank you, that's really lovely of you to say, dear. She's still so small… she was premature you know—"
"Yes, I noticed. It's such a shame, but I'm sure she'll be fine. She's clearly a fighter; just like her mummy. Those rosy cheeks look far too healthy for just any a premature baby. She'll be just fine, darling." I spluttered, staring at him in total shock. Darling? What the Hell had those doctors given him? How much pain medication was he actually on?

The woman had burst into grateful tears, and I watched as she wrapped her spindly arms around his middle – which caused him to wince slightly when she pressed on the stab wound – and pull him into a hug. I expected him to shove her away, but he actually pulled her closer. He ran a long, white hand through her messy hair and gently shushing her sobs,

"Oh dear, let it all out. That's right, darling. She'll be fine, you'll be able to take her home in no time; everything will be fine." It took a few more minutes of frantic sobbing, but finally the woman's frantic sobbing quietened to small hiccups. He held her at arm's length, but with more tenderness that just simply shoving her back, so he could smile at her warmly. He honestly looked like butter wouldn't melt, "There you go! We all need a good cry once in a while, don't we? I bet you feel much better now."
"Actually, yeah. I do feel better. Thank you so much, Sherlock."
"You're welcome, sweetheart. I look forward to getting an update when you take Chloe home; you have my email." She nodded, still smiling, and turned to head into the ward.

I was shell-shocked. That was the only way to explain it; I had never seen anything like it, and I stumbled as I tried to rush to support his slightly wobbling body.

"Sherlock, what on Earth was that all about?" He looked over at me and his face split into a smile,

"Oh hello, John, I didn't see you there. Poor love's baby is a bit poorly. I can't imagine what she must be going to… ooh, are those sweets for me? Thanks ever so much, you're such a thoughtful guy." I blinked at him in surprise, but he wasn't finished. He reached out to pinch my cheek, reminding me more and more of my batty great-aunt by the second, "I simply don't know why nobody's snapped you up yet, if I was inclined to find people sexually attractive I would have had you marching down the aisle before you could saw strawberry jam. But you're too good for me aren't you, John. Oh, and shame on me! I never have thanked you for staying by my side."

I was suddenly bundled into a hug, freezing to the spot at the unfamiliar feeling of Sherlock hugging me, or anyone for that matter, "You're a wonderfully kind man, a very special one, and I don't deserve you. Thank you for everything, John!"

"You're… welcome, I guess?" He smiled broadly, patting me on the back,
"I'm going to show you my gratitude and take you to Angelo's when we get out of here. Not only that, but I'll stop going out all night and worrying you… and I'll buy milk and clean up after my experiments and do the shopping. Come on, poor Greg will be fretting over where we got to. He takes such good care of me – he always has. I don't know where I'd be if it weren't for him!"

My mouth was hanging open and my brain had gone blank as I simply followed him; quite frankly, there was nothing else I could do. I was too utterly confused. I almost wanted to check that aliens hadn't landed and set up their camp in Sherlock's brain, which certainly seemed more likely than Sherlock just wanting to be nice.