A/N So, I totally uploaded this chapter without an authors note. Oops. I'm sorry about the delayed update, I've had a crap load of assignments. But it's here now so I hope you enjoy :)

Sherlock Holmes did not pray, nor did he ask his brother for help. As far as he had been concerned, those were the two things he would never do. Yet in the last three hours, he'd done both.

When they had first arrived at the hospital, John was whisked off to surgery immediately and Sherlock was left in the waiting room. He managed to convince Mary to go home and get some sleep, seeing as john wouldn't wake until at least the next day. Mary agreed, making it very clear to Sherlock she would not be going if she were not pregnant.

Once she had left, Sherlock was left alone in the waiting room, pacing back and forth, much to the annoyance of the other occupants of the room.

After what felt like an eternity, a nurse finally entered the room and asked for him. Before she had a chance to talk, Sherlock hounded her with questions.

"Is he alright? Where is he? Can I see him?" This outburst surprised even Sherlock, who was normally the level headed one in any situation. The nurse held up her hand to silence him.

"He's stable for now, we're just moving him into recovery. I need to discuss the matter of where he'll be staying with his next of kin. Is that you?"

Sherlock nodded. There was no point dragging Mary all the way back down here for a simple matter.

"Alright. Do you have any insurance or enough money to pay for a private room? If not we'll have to leave him in the recovery ward and he'll only be allowed one visitor at a time, for no more than an hour."

Sherlock sighed. despite the job he had, they didn't have nearly enough money to afford a private room, and he had no intention of leaving john alone.

"Can you give me a minute? I need to make a phone call."

The nurse nodded, and walked away to wait.

Sherlock got out his phone and, scrolling through the contacts, found who he was looking for.

Mycroft Holmes

Swallowing his pride, he hit call. This was for John.

"My dear brother, to what do I owe the pleasure? Mycroft asked as he answered, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Holding back his biting remark, Sherlock replied;

"I need you to pull some strings"

"Straight to the point as always. What do you need?" Mycroft asked.

He would never admit it but his was slightly concerned. Not only did his brother never call if he could text, but he definitely did not ask for help.

"John was shot"

Sherlock didn't have time to finish before Mycroft cut him off.

"Who shot him?"

"If you insist on knowing the whole story I will explain it in person. We need a hospital room, he may be here for a while"

"All right i'll make the call. I'll be at the hospital shortly."

"Send some of your men to watch his house. Mary may still be in danger."

"Very well" Mycroft replied. "Goodbye Sherlock"

And with that the phone call ended.

The nurse, seeing that Sherlock was done, walked back over.

"I think you'll find everything has been arranged" Sherlock told her. Mycroft was, if nothing else, a quick worker. "I think we're done here, I would like to go find out where my friend is staying" He added, striding past her.

"I already told you, he's in the recovery ward, he hasn't been moved yet."

Sherlock just smirked and continued walking.

He approached the front desk, and without even waiting for the nurse to look up he said

"I'm looking for John Watson"

She was taken aback at his abrupt attitude.

"Umm, sure I'll just, uhh find him for you" She replied as she started typing into her computer.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. And they say I'm bad with people. At least its not my job to deal with them everyday.

"Was that Dr John Hamish Watson you were looking for?" She asked, a sickly sweet smile plastered on her face.

"Yes" he replied, already tired of dealing with her.

"He's in room 31, right next to the recovery ward."

Sherlock walked away, heading towards the room, without another word.

When he found the room, he knocked on the door and waited to see if there was still a nurse in there. getting no reply he entered. The room was the biggest hospital room Sherlock had seen. It was obviously one reserved for people of high status or with a lot of money. The floor, surprisingly, was covered in carpet, and there was even a lounge at one end of the room. The bed could fit at least two people, easy, possibly three. The thing that caught sherlocks attention however, was John. He was paler than Sherlock had ever seen him, and had far too many machines attached to him for sherlocks liking. He thought back to what the nurse had said.

He's stable for now.

For now.

Sherlock swallowed the lump forming in his throat and approached the bed slowly, almost cautiously. He sat down on the chair next to John's bed. He knew all too well what getting shot could do to your body, and he hadn't even been that close to the bullet. John on the other hand, had the gun right up against his chest at the time. Sherlock wasn't sure what possessed him to do it, given that he was not one to show any sort of affection or comfort, but he reached out and took one of John's cold hands in his own. He was lost in thought when he heard his phone buzz.

Sorry I took so long, had to stop by the station. Where are you? GL

Room 31, recovery ward SH

Sherlock texted back, returning his phone to his pocket. Not long after there was a knock at the door.

"Come in" he called out, letting go of John's hand, and taking a moment to compose himself.

He stood up and walked over to the door, as Lestrade came in.

"Sorry about that. I had to go back to the station before heading out here. I was hoping we would be able to catch Sanderson before he got too far. I have my men stationed in a 10km radius of the building and we've got all the main roads covered.

"Won't help." Sherlock replied simply, offering no further explanation.

Lestrade sighed.

"And why not" he asked, exasperated.

"He wasn't in the building. As far as I could tell he never had been. He was speaking to us over an intercom and the room was set up with cameras. Besides if you were planning to set off a bomb I'm sure you would rather be as far away from it as possible. For all we know he's not even in London anymore. That seems unlikely however, given that John didn't die. Its possible he may come back for him.

As he said the last part, he glanced over at John, his features betraying only a small portion of the concern he had for his friend.

"Well I suppose my men need new orders then." Lestrade said, sighing again. "I'll make sure i have them on an around the clock watch of this room until we catch Sanderson. Don't worry sherlock, I'll make sure they cant get to John." He added

Sherlock scoffed at the mans attempt to comfort him, but said nothing. They stood there in an awkward silence for a moment before Lestrade cleared hi throat, asking;

"So how is he?"

Sherlock glanced over at John again, and the man machines he was attached to.

"They said he's stable at the moment, but I suspect there's quite a lot of internal damage, given the close proximity of the gun when he fired it."

Sherlock paused for a moment, thinking.

"You do know what happened don't you"

Lestrade looked confused for a moment before saying slowly.

"Yea... you told me before you left in the ambulance."

Sherlock was taken aback for a moment before recovering.

"Of course, i just wasn't sure that your tiny brain would remember"

Lestrade raised an eyebrow. While not out of character, the insult had been rather unexpected.

"Right. Well I, uhh, best be going then. I'll get my men down here as soon as i can."

With a small nod from Sherlock, he left the room, closing the door as he went.

Sherlock moved back to his seat by John's bed. He took his friends hand again, and silently prayed to any god or deity he could think of, that John would be okay.