It's been another two days and there still isn't much change in Sherlock's condition, I'm trying desperately hard to get him to remember the simplest things but that is proving difficult: not only is it the amnesia but the fact that the detective is a bloody stubborn git when he wants to be. Honestly, I tried to read him one of his favourite books earlier and he told me to sod off and stared out of the window like nothing had ever happened – of course, I left the room very pissed off and frustrated. Still, at least there aren't any experiments to add to my anger, there's always that.

But I miss him, Oh god I miss him, as I said before life really isn't the same without Sherlock and his outlook on things and if this bloody amnesia takes a serious turn and he forgets who he is forever than I don't know what I am going to do – however that won't happen, I won't let it. I promised him that he would get better and if that means me being up and available to him constantly for the next several weeks then so be it – I need my best friend back, it's quiet without his sarcastic remarks and his protesting, calling me simple was also his favourite thing to do, that is one thing that I do not miss though, not in the slightest.

Heading into the sitting room after breakfast, I grabbed the laptop and began to log in, letting out a soft sigh as the blog flashed up in front of me, the blog of Sherlock and I and all the adventures we had been on and trust me there was a lot – some he obviously hadn't agreed with back when he had been well but it was clear that I noted them down anyway, people seemed to like the blog and I'm certainly not giving it up: not unless I really need to. Raising a brow towards the detective, who was narrowing his eyes at completely nothing out of the window I started to read thinking that this would jolt is memory back into the unnerving pace that it always went at – oh god I hoped so, I wanted this and it was evident that Sherlock did too, still one good thing had come out of all my hard work, he could finally remember my name. It wasn't a big deal, but it was progress and honest to bloody God I nearly cried when he said it yesterday afternoon at dinner. My heart bursting with joy and pride.

Mycroft or the others still haven't been to visit, by the way, maybe they seem to think that I can handle it alone and that I am the best person for the job, I tried sending out several more texts to people but it was no use – no response has been given so I'll probably give up trying, they'll see Sherlock when they're ready but for now it's just me and him whether that twat likes it or not.

For now, Sherlock seems to be enjoying me reading articles from the blog – especially one about the water supply and the poison that lay within it, hell I don't think I have ever seen him that excited and into a case since Baskerville, it certainly had been an intriguing and thrilling one for the detective and myself and we cracked the case in under 3 hours something that I'm proud of, even though Sherlock said it would have taken a lot less time if I wasn't so simple or ordinary, not that those types of insults phase me much anymore, that's pretty much the topic that arises in every conversation that I have with him – obviously not at the moment but you get the picture.

"Do you remember much about this one, Sherlock?"

I asked, raising a brow as he had been shifting in his chair in a rather uncomfortable manner, so it seemed, it made me wonder if I had said something to upset him, but I wouldn't question it, diverting his mind was the key to keeping him focused.

"Hmmm?"

He responds, turning his head to look at me with no expression on his face, which frankly left me a bit confused, he had to be feeling something otherwise the shifting wouldn't be occurring, I'll get it out of him, eventually.

"The case on the blog, do you remember much about it?"

"What blog?"

"Our blog, Sherlock. The one what I type out on the laptop after every case—"

"Oh. No, I don't."

"Not even one thing?"

"…. No."

"You hesitated. It's okay if you don't really remember much, I get that by why were you shifting so much?"

"I wasn't, was I?"

That was when another sigh escaped me, for a moment his mind had been ferociously turning over and over to try and remember everything he had ever learned and after a split second it had been taken again, not that it surprised me much, I was used to this after three bloody weeks but I wished that there would soon be some more progress on his behalf, Sherlock isn't the usual type to just sit around and dwell on things all day, he's the type of man who needs to feel the adrenaline of a new case or the satisfaction of taking the piss out of people and watching them cry, okay maybe that's a bit of an over-dramatic statement on the last part, he does take the piss out of people a lot though and has made several individuals cry, something I can assure you that I deeply reprimanded him for.

Regardless of his current status and what seemed to be uncomfortable shifting, I decided to give the blog conversation another go, watching the other with an overwhelming need of anticipation, I needed him to think of something- the doctor was coming to visit us in another two days and I know for a fact that he wants to see some progression in his memory. There he sat nevertheless, dull, down and in his chair, enjoying the gentle breeze that was coming through the window, I had opened the window for Sherlock just so he could get some air and hell, he might have even gotten up once or twice to peer out properly – to say I felt happy would be the understatement of the century and there he was now, standing at the window in nothing but his pyjamas but for that split moment he looked so much more alive and well, like Sherlock.

"Sherlock?"

I questioned again, placing the laptop to the side of me, hoping that it didn't burn a hole in the bloody table like it had done last time.

"Yes, John?"

"Do you- do you remember anything about what you used to do? Anything at all."

I'm hoping that there is something in his brain. God please, there has be something left.

"I remember you, I hired you after sitting in a lab with – what's her name?"

"Molly?"

"Yes, that's it. Molly! You handed me your phone to make a phone call or send a text, was that it?"
He asked, turning around to face me for a second. I would have hugged him there and then, but I couldn't just leap on him, he's taller than me for a start and it would be awkward. But I was pleased that he remembered.

"Yes. Well done, Sherlock. I'm proud of you, well done."

"I'll always remember my closest friends, John. You know that."

I blinked back the tears and slowly stood to join him at the window. That was enough information for today.