Sherlock sat beside John's hospital bed, holding onto John's hand. John had gone into a coma after the incident, and that was a week ago. Sherlock hadn't left John's side since unless he was incredibly busting to go to the bathroom.

Moriarty was a jealous man at the best of times, but when John argued with him, he lost the plot entirely.

Sherlock felt a grip on his hand, and he quickly looked up.

''John?!''

''Sherlock,'' John groaned.

''I'm here, John,'' Sherlock reassured him.

John tried to open his eyes. ''Sherlock, what happened? Where are we?''

''You got shot, John, and we're at Barts,'' Sherlock told him softly.

''Again?''

''Yes. The impact of the bullet pushed you to the ground, and gave you a head injury.''

''Sherlock...'' John groaned again, sounding more frightened.

''Yes, love?'' Sherlock said as he pressed the nurses bell.

''I-I can't see.''

A nurse came into the room, and smiled when she saw John was awake, but she obviously didn't gather that he was rather distressed.

''Good morning Mr. Watson,'' she said cheerily. She turned to Sherlock and smiled in acknowledgement.

John realized this was a nurse. ''Why can't I see?'' He asked, still panicking.

''I'll go get your doctor, he can explain it to you.'' With that, the nurse scurried off.

''Was it just me or did she intentionally do that?'' John asked, managing a small laugh. Surely she could've told him what happened to his sight.

''Yes, I do believe she did,'' Sherlock laughed, leaning down to kiss John's forehead.

Sherlock pulled away slightly, but his lips still brushed against John's head as he whispered. ''I know what you're thinking, John. I know you're worrying, and I want you to stop it. I still love you, John, so, so much. I will be here to look after you, and together we can get through this.''

John managed a small smile. ''Thank you, Sherlock.''

A few moments later, John's doctor came into the room.

''Hello, Mr. Watson. It's nice to have you concious. How are you feeling today?''

Sherlock bit his tongue.

''Well, I can't see,'' John said in a 'duh' kind of tone.

''And aside from that?''

''I feel fine.''

''Right then. Due to your head injury, it has damaged your eyesight, but only pyschologically speaking. Due to the pain you recieved when you fell it has caused your brain to stop you from seeing in hopes you will no longer feel pain.

''Also, trauma may be a factor in this. If you've had a traumatic incident occur within the past two years, that could've been the breaking point here,'' the doctor explained.

Sherlock knew exactly what trauma had effected John. It was the trauma of seeing Sherlock fall, and the grief afterwards. Sherlock felt tears welling up in his eyes, but he wouldn't allow them to fall. He had to be strong, and protect John.

''So I will get my sight back when my brain is strong enough to will it back, basically?''

''Yes that's right. That means you'll have to-"

''Rest,'' John finished for his doctor.

John's doctor laughed. ''Exactly.'' 

The doctor checked John's medical papers and then smiled at Sherlock. ''Mr. Holmes you will be able to take Mr. Watson home later today.''

Sherlock nodded gratefully, before the doctor left.

Sherlock still held on to John's hand tightly. ''Oh, yes, I met Harry.''

John groaned. ''I'm sorry.''

''No, no, its fine. She didn't appreciate me deducing her upon arrival, though.''

John laughed. ''I bet she didn't. How is she?''

''Still drinking, but she's back together with Clara. She's unhappy with her job, and is considering to quit. Oh, and she also has a cat now. Feral thing though.''

''She didn't tell you any of this, did she?'' It still amazed John how well Sherlock could deduce people. Sherlock was one of a kind.

Sherlock couldn't help but smile. ''No.''

Sherlock and John laughed together.

''Thank you, Sherlock,'' John said after a while.

''For what?'' Sherlock asked, kissing John on the head.

''For still being here. For making me laugh.''

''I love you, John.''

''I love you too, Sherlock.''

After a while, John spoke again. ''Sherlock...''

''Yes, love?''

''Would you come and lie up here with me?''

Sherlock smiled. ''Of course, John.''

John scooted over so Sherlock could lie with him. Sherlock got onto the decent sized bed and wrapped his arms around John, and John snuggled in to him.

A few hours later, the dicharge papers were signed, and Sherlock and John were in a cab heading back to their flat.

Sherlock could sense that John was still worrying about Sherlock wasting his time and if it would all be too much for him to handle.

''John, stop it,'' Sherlock told him.

''Stop what?''

''Stop worrying. You're only going to stress us both out,'' Sherlock said gently.

The cab pulled up at 221 Baker street, and Sherlock paid the cabbie before helping John out. They went up to their flat, and Mrs. Hudson raced up to them.

''Oh my word!'' She exclaimed as she raced up to John, wrapping her arms around him.

John smiled and hugged her back.

''Would you boys like a cuppa?'' Mrs. Hudson asked them as she moved away, and Sherlock guided John to his seat and sat him down.

''Yes please, Mrs. Hudson,'' John told her, and Mrs. Hudson went into the kitchen to make the tea.

Sherlock was fussing over John, and John couldn't help but laugh. 

''Sherlock, it's fine. I'm not completely incompetent.''

''Yes, I know John. I'm sorry.''

''What time is it?''

Sherlock looked at his watch. ''7 o'clock.''

Mrs. Hudson came back with the tea, and the boys thanked her, sipping their drinks.

Mycroft and Lestrade came over later that night to see how things were coming along. Mycroft obviously somehow found out about John's situation and told Lestrade. Sherlock and John both knew that Lestrade would've forced Mycroft to come along.

After a while John got sick of all the attention, so he dragged it over to Lestrade and Mycroft. ''So how's the wedding plans coming along?''

Sherlock chuckled as he picked up on what John was doing.

''All's well so far. We're planning on having the wedding next summer,'' Lestrade told them.

''That's not too far off,'' John observed.

''Yeah, but we want to get married as soon as possible,'' Lestrade said, placing his hand on top of Mycroft's as they smiled at each other.

''Fair enough,'' John said, feeling the awkwardness creep up on them all.

''So, any new updates on the case?'' Sherlock asked.

''None yet, so hopefully there are no more related murders.''

Sherlock hoped not. He had to remain fully focussed on taking care of John.

A while later, Mycroft and Lestrade left, and Sherlock and John went to bed. John managed to get himself changed after Sherlock handed him some pyjamas, and they snuggled into the bed.

''Good night, Sherlock,'' John whispered.

''Good night, love,'' Sherlock replied.

John smiled. He loved it how Sherlock would call only him that. No one else mattered to Sherlock; he loved one person and one person only, and that was John.

Sherlock protectively wrapped his arms around John, and buried his nose into John's dirty blonde hair, falling asleep.