Sherlock; Heartfelt Lies

Chapter 3: Irreversible

Sherlock P.O.V

It had been a week since we found out about John's... condition. I was still having trouble hiding the fear I felt whenever he stumbled. Another blow to his head could reduce what little time he had left.

Even though John had little time left, he appeared to act almost as though nothing was wrong. Of course, every now and then he would cry out in agony due to the pressure on his brain, then play it down as though he had a normal every day headache.

Twice, since John was released from the hospital, he had scared the life out of me. I cried, the first time, I cried like I did when I was four years old. The second time, I'd held it in, because the first time John had ended up crying with me, and he didn't need to cry.

A small movement brought me back to my surroundings, John was waking up. We had fallen asleep with my body wrapped around his, my knees folding into his. My arm was strewn across his stomach, his hand lying ontop of mine. I kissed the back of his neck softly, tracing shapes on his tanned, muscled bare chest. He stretched and rolled over, pecking me on the nose, a beautiful dazed smile on his tired face. I kissed him back slowly on the lips, teasing him until he moaned for more. Jumping out of bed, I grabbed my blue robe and waited for him by the door... we had a busy day planned.

John jumped up, presumably to carry on where we left off, when he screamed out in pain. Clutching his hands to his head, tears of agony running down his contorted face, he collapsed onto his knees, landing in a heap.

I was by his side in seconds, pulling him into a tight embrace. I swiped my phone off the dresser, hurriedly dialling 999.

"221B Baker Street, severe head pains after the discovery of a stage four tumor. Any pressure could do serious irreversible damage. Get here as soon as you can." I almost yelled down the phone, terrified. I picked John up and sat him on my lap on the bed, hugging him close to me.

It wasn't long before the ambulance and paramedics were coming down the road. By this point John had passed out from the pain, only the steady beating of his heart keeping me from losing control.

I bridal carried him out of my room, kicking open the door and running down the stairs, proceeding to repeat my previous actions.

Sprinting to the ambulance with John firmly in my grip, not caring for the stones in my feet or my lack of clothing other than a pair of pants and my silk robe, I shouted for their help.

Two men opened up the back of the ambulance and took John from me. I didn't fight as they forced me to sit next to him, my hand never leaving his.

The journey to the hospital seemed to take forever, and there was no change with John; none other than his body convulsing in odd bursts.

It took everything I had to stay in one piece, but I could feel myself beginning to shatter with ever flicker of pain I could see John going through.

Why did it have to be John? He was a good man. I didn't mean it when I said hero's didn't exist; John Watson would always be a hero.

The next ten minutes were quite a blur. I did not care for the people around me. All I cared for was John. Paramedics pushed me into the hospital, for I appeared to have lost control of my body. They sat me on down and walked over to the desk, talking about me, obviously. I didn't care to be honest. I sat in my mind palace as they took him away, forcing me to stay in the waiting room. I retreated into my mind palace, replaying memories of my best moments with John. He would get through this.

He had to. I couldn't loose him yet.

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I must have fallen deeply into my mind palace, as when I next looked up John was back in a hospital bed, sitting up, methodically running his fingers over my hands. He looked rather sad, and... afraid? He had bad news. I cluched at his fingers, squeezing them with love.

"Hey, look at you. What did I miss?" I tried to smile, pretending that it didn't upset me that I missed him coming out of the emergency room.

"Sher, the good news is that they've relieved some of the pressure off my brain. Which means another episode like that is very unlikely." He smiled through his words, but I was no idiot. Clearly he had very bad news. I waited for him to carry on, my exterior strong and collected, my interior screaming for things to be back the way they used to be.

"The bad news is... I-I. The nerves in my brain are no longer sending signals to my legs."

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John P.O.V

Sherlock's face fell. He looked mildly confused, so I just got out with it.

"I can't use my legs. I'm in a wheelchair from now on." It hurt so much to admit this to myself, as well as Sherlock.

There would be no more chases around London. This couldn't be forgotten like my psychosomatic limp, couldn't be fixed. I remembered every single chase I'd been on with Sherlock, all of the cases we'd had together.

Heck, I'd couldn't tell Sherlock the worst news. I couldn't tell him about my eyes, not yet.

Sherlock slid out of his chair and knelt on the floor, leaning carefully on my bed.

"We'll get through this. And we'll do it together."

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A/N: Sorry that it's only a short one, but I though I owed you an update... it has been a while. -NH