Sherlock had finally gone out and about after the visit from the doctor and he seemed to have been enjoying it, I on the other hand was trying desperately hard to watch out for hazards that could deter my best-friend, curbs seemed to be the worst: I think he actually fell over one at some point, not fully but he stumbled into the middle of the road, right in front of a taxi and I am not afraid to admit that I facepalmed and then apologised to the taxi driver several times after making sure Sherlock was alright. The taxi-man was fine after I gave him some money for the 'shock' and 'compensation', normally I wouldn't do it, but it saved an argument and after everything that had been taking its toll on me that would have been the last thing I wanted. I could understand his shock however, Sherlock was meant to be dead to the world, Mycroft hadn't exactly lifted anything and revealed the secret to everybody yet, I knew that I had to keep the detective on the down-low for the time being which would prove difficult for me, Sherlock wasn't one to really do as he was told anyway so with this illness and him getting confused it would prove even more difficult but I knew I couldn't get him home – not yet, we hadn't long come out and it was obvious to me that he wanted to go exploring which impressed me just a little bit, surely that meant more progress, brilliant!

"Sherlock, you need to be more careful of the roads okay? That man nearly hit you and frankly I think he was more shocked than you were. Poor man nearly had a heart attack—"

I stated, guiding him back to the pavement and towards the direction of the alleys, which I'm pretty certain led to a place Sherlock loved a lot, don't ask why, he just takes a lot of interest in a certain area of town, maybe it's the clues or the sounds or the fact that he just does it to wind me up, I'd rather avoid the area all together but maybe for now, it would jolt his memory, another few weeks had been diagnosed but I was determined to forward it too sooner – like I keep saying, things weren't and still aren't the same without him.

We walked, not very far and for only about five minutes until we reached the place that he loves, a little park that was hidden behind some buildings, I really have no bloody clue what it's doing there or why it was even there in the first place but I didn't intend on sticking around there for too long, still we were out of the public eye – I just hoped that he wouldn't say he was hungry, it was mid-afternoon at this point and lunch hadn't been given since he was in such a desperate rush to get out – hell I hadn't even had chance to grab any money or food for us to take so he would have to wait until we reached home, which wasn't very far away.

At the park, Sherlock then stumbled over to a little bench, falling into it and muttering a few words under his breath – I won't repeat them but I can assure you they weren't the pleasant kind, how very typical of him to remember these subconsciously, yes he never usually swears when he's well, only towards Mycroft from time to time but of course he's going to know bloody swear words, he knows everything else after-all. Anyway, I decided to join Sherlock on the bench and watched him with a raised brow, what the hell was this man doing? All he did was sit there and look up at the sky, I was confused but decided not to question it – he was quiet and behaving at the least.

"Can you feel that?"

He suddenly asked, causing me to blink in confusion towards him, I hated it when he did this, ask a question that had a million different answers, I would only get mocked on whatever one I chose – even the sick Sherlock Holmes knew how to mock from time to time.

"Hmmm?"

I questioned back.

"Can you feel /that/?"

"I'm sorry, Sherlock. What?"

"Freedom, it feels so good to be free-"

I cleared my throat, nodding. This was…new.

"Yes…. It does."

Honestly agreeing with him would be the best thing to do in situations like these, it never ended well for me if I didn't but I would be lying if I said it didn't feel good to be free from that stuffy flat of ours, we had been cooped up in there for nearly a month without any social interaction or air – apart from the wind blowing through the window from time to time but this fresh air and a change of scenery was exactly what the both of us needed, maybe it would do him good to get out and about, it would allow him to expand his thought process and hopefully deduce more than one thing at a time, the doctor should be right about him remembering – that's what I hoped anyway.

That was when he fell silent once again and I honestly don't think I could take much more of the dread, he better not be bloody forgetting again, not now, not after the doctor promised me that he would make a speedy recovery and get better – I couldn't watch Sherlock slip away again, especially since he had come so far, I had to keep positive and so decided to prompt him a little bit, maybe a few questions would help. What the hell would I say to him? I hadn't a bloody clue where to start.

"Ahem - So how are you feeling today?" I was hoping for a good answer, praying to God even though I'm not in the slightest bit religious – it was just something to prepare me if there was to be a terrible answer but thankfully there wasn't, Sherlock simply just looked at me, smiled slightly and responded calmly.

"I'm fine, thank you. I'm just trying to think about something. Something in particular, I - I remember this place."

"You do?"

"Yes, I remember it. We've been here before, on a case or something. Right?"

"I don't know, I - I think so, we've been to so many places, Sherlock."

"The case of the murder in the park, that was here –" he spoke, furrowing his brows in a puzzled manner, gesturing his hands to motion towards the bit of concrete that was led not to far away from where we had been sitting, that was where the body had been found apparently, at least it was when Sherlock examined it – not that I remembered much of this bloody case, we had been on so many but it probably ended up in him calling me stupid and insulting me until I felt like smacking him right in that mouth of his: my heart burst with pride at this moment though, Sherlock was finally becoming himself again, something that we had all wished for.

"Well done, Sherlock. Now –" I state, pushing myself up from the bench and allowing myself to have a stretch: raising a brow down at the other. "I don't know about you but I'm pretty hungry, and if my memory serves me correct - and don't make a bloody comment, even when you're ill it's no excuse to be a twat – then I believe that there's a chip van not to far from here." I was hoping he would say yes, it was true, I was hungry, bloody ravenous actually: I didn't want to spend the rest of my afternoon reliving murder cases when there was food going, I hadn't eaten much in days. Thankfully, he just looked up and nodded to me, pushing himself up off the bench also, straightening out his beloved coat.

"Lead the way, John. If you can remember it, that is." He stated with a small smirk.

I scoff.

We then walked side by side to the chip van.

This bastard truly was getting back to his normal self, thank Christ. Yes he was tired, I could tell, being cooped up and sick was really taking his toll on him but he was trying, he wanted this just as much as I did - possibly even more and it was bloody great for me to see him walking along once more, a few weeks ago this wouldn't have happened - but I'd rather not relive that, shaking my head in disbelief at his comment I then walk beside him in silence.

Sherlock's mind was growing rapidly, that bastard certainly had his humour back, insulting as it was, I would be lying if I said I hadn't missed it.