"I...fell...John..."
John's hand was pressed to the back of Sherlock's head, he wasn't complaining about any headaches yet, but he was waiting for the moment that Sherlock would start to whine and reach for the affected area. He was very much like a child when he wasn't feeling well. When he got colds, he would lay pitifully on the couch and lay with John because he felt that head rubs was one of the things that made him well again, but John knew that Sherlock just wanted an excuse to cuddle up with him, and he didn't mind the excuses either. Even high-functioning sociopaths need affection too.
"What did you dream about this time?"
Sherlock's shuddering seemed to increase as he started his explanation.
"I was...I think it was a roof again...and the clouds were grey, and then I heard you yell my name...and I..I...fell."
John kissed his head, he was doing that a lot recently. Maybe it was because he enjoyed doing it and he wanted Sherlock calmed and relaxed. Besides, he wasn't complaining right? And he's not taking advantage of him, it's just a harmless kiss. It's not like it was on the lips or anything.
"What about your head? Does it hurt?"
His hand started feeling around the soft curls that adorned the other's head. He could never get over Sherlock's hair, there were so many people who would kill for his hair, and occasionally, they do. The detective's head moved side-to-side instead of voicing his answer. John took that as a good sign, it might be the medicine doing this to him, or maybe he was starting to get better, hopefully it was the latter because then he could take Sherlock to the crime scene and have him solve the crime, be the old Sherlock, be his Sherlock. Sure he wouldn't be able to hold him like that anymore but it would be worth it if he can see Sherlock be brilliant again, watch him tear down the other officers when they decide to insult him, dish out deductions as if it were like reciting the alphabet and then walking away from the scene leaving everybody in awe as he solved the case in less than a day, This is better than Sherlock being dead, but it's worse than Sherlock being back to normal, well, his version of normal at least.
"That's good. Hopefully it stays like that."
Sherlock breathed out shakily.
John figured this would be the right time to tell Sherlock about the case, since he knew that they would end up going anyway.
"So, Sherlock, Greg called me."
"Who?"
"The man you tapped at the pub? Remember?"
Sherlock thought for a moment and then made a noise to show that he could recall that memory and John continued.
"He called me, while you were sleeping and told me about the case he was working on."
He could hear Sherlock becoming a bit more eager as John was talking. It made the doctor smile to himself as he the other's tone changed.
"He said that he wants us to come and help him solve it."
Sherlock sat up and looked John directly in the eyes. John was pleading for Sherlock to stop staring at him with that face that he couldn't handle. His eyes were so...whimsical and wonderful to look at and get lost in. If John squinted, he could swear that he saw a flicker in Sherlock's eyes, a light that he hasn't seen in so long and was so glad that it made its appearance. Test tubes and morgues weren't enough for Sherlock to remember, but crime scenes were Sherlock's real passion. He wasn't a Consulting Chemist, he was a Consulting Detective, and the only one in the world.
"And what did you say?"
John gave a moments' pause before he answered. He wanted to take in the way they were at the moment. He wanted to get Sherlock's scent in his head, imprinted into the part of his brain that he had everything else Sherlock-related implanted. If he couldn't have Sherlock physically, then there would always be his memories that they had together, in 221b, on their cases.
"I said that we should wait until you start feeling better before I take you back out."
Sherlock's eye twinkle was gone and the smile that he was forming stopped and reverted back to the frown he wore. John mentally groaned as he knew where this was going.
"But I don't have a headache now, John."
"I know that ,Sherlock, but the reason that we're both inside of your room right now is because you almost collapsed in the morgue from your migraine. You scared me, Sherlock."
Sherlock's eyes went wide at John's statement. For a long while, they were both sitting on the younger man's bed, just staring at each other in a way lovers wouldn't even dare to look at each other. Sherlock was taken aback by the words that came out of the other's mouth, whereas John looked a little surprised that something like that even came out of his mouth.
"John. I don't understand."
"What is there to understand, Sherlock?"
Sherlock looked down and then met John's gaze again.
"Why did I scare you? You don't know me..."
"Sherlock, I-"
"I don't know you..."
John held his hand up.
"Before you say anything else let me explain something to you."
Sherlock raised his eyebrows and gave John a sort of exasperated look, which John gladly ignored and grabbed Sherlock's face in his hands. He couldn't place Sherlock's face at the action so he started talking.
"Sherlock, I do know you. I probably know you better than you know yourself, and at the moment, that's the truth. Sherlock, you're my best friend and I don't want to see you like this, it upsets me. I want the old Sherlock back, I want the one-the one that all you had to do was look at him and see his brilliance. Who wasn't afraid to cut somebody down to size if they stepped too far, back when you were perfect."
"Are you suggesting I'm imperfect now?"
John shook his head.
"No, I'm simply saying that you are flawed now. But we can change that."
"...And...is that what you want, John? For me to be normal?"
John nodded,
"Of course I do, Sherlock."
"So why won't you take me to the crime scene? If that is going to help me get my memory back, why don't we take the chance?"
"You're not ready yet, Sherlock, the morgue..."
"But that was because she said something...Molly said something that made me remember, and then I got the headache. And maybe it won't happen there, how would we know?"
"I don't want to take that chance."
Sherlock looked defeated for a moment. John hated doing this, but he was worried for Sherlock's health, if he were to over-work himself, they would both have to deal with the consequences that could result in a very ill and amnesiac Sherlock. John doesn't need anybody to hurt anymore, he needs to do what he went to school for, what he spent half of his life doing. He needed to heal Sherlock. He needed to heal the both of them, and if this is what Sherlock wants, then they would have to do it and take every risk that was there. It's always darkest before the dawn.
John grabbed Sherlock's hands and gave them a squeeze.
"Okay Sherlock, we'll do this your way. But if you even feel one twinge of pain, you better tell me or you won't be able to leave the house for a long while."
Sherlock could barely contain his smile.
"Yes, John I understand. I'll get dressed right now."
He got up off the bed and then walked over to his closet, causing John to leave the room to give him privacy.