This is it, I am led to believe that Sherlock has made a full recovery: over the last week things have happened, he deduced where Mrs Hudson had been, picked up his violin for the first time and played a little tune, yes it wasn't the best but it was a tune all the same, hell he even insulted me more times than ever before, he was certainly on the road to becoming himself again, my worries were put behind me and I think it was safe to say by this point that I could at least relax a little bit – it wasn't like he needed constant supervision anymore, yes he needed watching but I didn't physically guide him places, make him food or even just sit and watch him for hours, it was a load off my shoulders: that doesn't mean that he can go off outside on his own or even solve a case just yet but he's getting there, we both are. I just hope the git appreciates everything I've done for him over these past few months, even if he didn't, I'd do it again in a heartbeat if it meant keeping my best-friend safe and away from the dangers of the world. Even though dangers filled him with joy, I wasn't about to let what caused this bloody illness within him happen again.

Today Sherlock and I have his final scan to attend and although it isn't until five in the afternoon I want to get him ready and prepared for whatever the hell it flashes up with but like usual he has other things on his mind – things that he classes as important and honest to God he's been sat in his chair for almost three hours mumbling stuff that makes no sense to me – he then looked up suddenly, making me look up from the laptop, concerned. What the hell does he want from me?

He then pushed himself up and out of the chair without a word and headed over towards the window, picking up his violin and preparing to play: on my part it's very concerning, what on earth was all that looking up and silence for? Who knew what the bloody hell went on in his mind, I just left him to it, that sounds bad doesn't it? But I was growing tired and I wasn't in the mood to deal with much: I have to though for his sake, he's never given up on me, not really so why should I give up on him? Placing the laptop aside I glance up at the clock.

3pm.

I have time to make myself a coffee and look presentable before tracking to the hospital with the detective, perfect. Althoug being a medic myself I know that you can't pick up amnesia on a scan, they're probably searching for other things and checking the function of his brain.

The coffee break ran smoothly, and it was the first time in a long time that I could complete it with no residue to be found still – I thought that I could get used to this lifestyle but things weren't the same, this life: without the cases, the thrill of the chase, the blog. It had all come to a halt and frankly, it had turned normal, much to normal even for my liking. Christ what the hell am I saying? I really am starting to sound like my best-friend, ahem, anyway: heading into the kitchen to put my cup away, I quickly washed it up before smiling softly at the beautiful sound of the slow, melodic tune that Sherlock was playing on the violin. I always wanted to try and take up an instrument myself and gave one a go when I was about ten but I could never get to grips with it and in the army I certainly wasn't allowed one, not that it bothered me that much, I soon got over it.

Sherlocks playing lasted for a good hour and I was starting to get worried that we would be late to see the doctor, this appointment was a crucial one – yes we both knew that he would get better within a week or two but this one was to determine whether there was any underlying conditions and if I'm being honest, I wasn't ready for the outcome just yet incase it was bad – I wanted to hold on to Sherlock even if he wasn't the same, a different Sherlock is better than no Sherlock at all. Stepping out from the doorway and moving to stand to the side of him, I gently clear my throat to get his attention, softly smiling as he gave me a quick side eye before placing the instrument down gently and propping it up against a wall.

"It's time."

I said quietly, swallowing down every last bit of nervous emotions that I had. I knew now that I needed to continue being strong, we were almost there, almost through this dreaded bloody illness – or we had to do was (hopefully) go for one more scan, determine that he's well, get a bit more of his memory back and everything would be perfect, I refused to lose myself, not now.

Sherlock then looked over at the clock with a raised brow, letting out a sigh and brushing down his suit, I could tell he didn't want to go but unfortunately he had to, he wouldn't take himself there and no other 'friend' would take him – hell not even Mycroft would, can you imagine his embarrassment of walking into the hospital with Sherlock? I'd save everyone the hassle and save the day – like I always do. I won't give up. I watch him make the final touches to his suit and then head to get my coat.

"Yes. I suppose it is." Sherlock then spoke quietly, it was a little bit of a delay but that was fine.
"I - I don't want to go, John. I know I have this….thing but I remember the doctor being here and telling us that I need a scan to determine if anything else was wrong, what if there is something else, John?"

Honestly this was the first time I had ever seen him scared, properly bloody scared. He was almost white and sick with fear and I'm not exaggerating either. It unnerved me a little but I didn't pry, that would only make him worse and I didn't particularly want him to become difficult or sick for that matter, I simply sighed and slipped his coat onto him after getting mine, it was the least I could do after-all.

"Nothing will be wrong, Sherlock. I promise you and even if there is - I'll look after you, I made a vow to care for you, didn't I?"

"How sentimental of you, John."

"What?"

"Sentiment is part of caring, therefore I called your gesture sentimental."

"Sherlock-!"

"Yes?"

"Please just….walk."

With a roll of his eyes, the detective then made his way out of the flat with me locking up and following behind, luckily we were out of there at exactly ten minutes past four leaving us fifty minutes to get to the hospital, I just hoped that this wouldn't trigger a memory for Sherlock, we were going to the place that he -

Well the place he fell from.

I was praying that somehow he wouldn't looked up at the building when we arrived and after much arguing on the way we finally reached the destination, one in which I wanted to get away from as quickly as possible, thankfully Sherlock never acknowledged the outside and headed straight inside and over to one of the nurses who was situated by the desk in the front of the reception, I smiled but Sherlock just narrowed his eyes and I knew exactly what he was doing – deductions. Always a good sign but why the hell did he do it now? What had he picked up? I nudged him slightly in a hope that it would stop him from being rude and then guided him to a chair after I got him all logged in and down to the right department, now all we had to do was wait, the truth was right around the corner.

Literally.