Tall Buildings and Pill Bottles - A Johnlock Story

Coming Home

John's POV

Sherlock had agreed to the recovery solution quite quickly, to everyone's astonishment. Mycroft and Greg had then begun discussing details, while Sherlock was beginning to look more and more nervous. I moved to sit up on the bed with him, the small hospital bed barely able to support both of us.

Sherlock rested his head against my shoulder and I felt his body relax from the building tension. He sighed gratefully, his curls tickling my cheek. Mycroft and Greg had hardly looked our way, never stopping the discussion.

"That means anything remotely sharp, not just the knifes," Greg nodded. "Should I get a team together and clean up the flat of all the stuff so none of you have to deal with it?"

He turned his attention towards us, waiting for an answer, seeing as it's our flat. Sherlock nodded timidly, and I smiled gratefully. "That would be lovely, thank you."

Greg and Mycroft turned back to their discussion, and I pressed my lips to Sherlocks temple. "It'll be alright, love," I whispered, knowing that the detective was beginning to get anxious about people in the flat. People often made fun of his experiments, but knowing Greg, and the purpose of the cleaning, that wouldn't happen.

I began playing with his curls, both because I liked to, and also because I knew it would help him calm down, as the realization of the situation came upon him. I rubbed his shoulder with the other hand, letting his tense muscles relax. His lips parted in a sigh, and I felt his body press into me a bit further. I felt my lips curl upwards as I pressed another quick peck on his cheek.

"We'll leave everything that doesn't need to be taken, in the place we found it, I promise," Greg was leaving to gather a team to prepare the flat. I'd caught bits and pieces of their conversation, so I knew they wouldn't be doing it until tomorrow, after everyone had gotten some sleep.

After biding all of his goodbyes, Greg left, leaving the three of us alone. After a moment, Mycroft moved to sit in the chair I had sat in. "Thank you, brother dear, for forgiving me," Mycroft spoke after a moment, his hands leaning on his umbrella.

Raising an eyebrow, I cut a look over to Sherlock, who smiled demurely. "Yes John," he answered without even needing my input of confusion. "Okay," I murmured.

"You'll more than likely be dispatched in two days, if no complications arise, so the flat will be ready by then. I suspect that your landlady, and Alice," he paused, a certain amount of distaste in his voice, "will be stopping by tomorrow, as you aren't admitted to see others than family today." He cut a glance at me, "it was hard enough to get you and Greg allowed in here, I'd rather not deal with having to go through the process with two others." I frowned, taking in the information.

I wasn't supposed to see Sherlock? That didn't make any sense, I'm not his husband, but he's still the most important thing to me. I was the most prominent person in his life, and I shouldn't have been allowed to see him. I knew both Sherlock and Mycroft were picking up on my displeasure with that fact, but didn't say anything, for once. I nodded finally, scrunching my face. "I've got to make a few phone calls, the government didn't stop as you both know, but I'll be back in a while." Mycroft stood, and walked out of the room.

Reminded by the conversation, I fished out my phone and sent a quick text to both Mrs. Hudson and Alice. It read: He's awake and doing fine, we are figuring out some stuff about what to do, but visitation starts tomorrow.

Returning the phone to my pocket, I turned my full attention back to my boyfriend. "I've missed you," I whispered, kissing him softly. He gave a small chuckle against my lips, "I'm here now," I pulled back, my brows scrunching together. "But if you had succeeded..." I trailed off, not wanting to finish. I gulped as I remembered my nightmare, his broken and lifeless body still a vivid image in my mind. He pushed my hair back, "I know," he said carefully. He yawned, his eye lids drooping.