The Effect of Memory

Sherlock fidgeted in the waiting room, feet up on the table in front of him as he ignored the annoyed looks the nurses kept giving him.

"Surely he's awake by this point," he muttered, flicking through the apps on his phone.

"Be patient," Lestrade said from where he was leaning against the wall nearby.

"Why are you even here?" Sherlock asked and huffed in frustration. "Wait, I know why, it's because my insufferable brother asked you to come keep an eye on me."

"You were harassing the nurses," Lestrade said.

"I was asking them perfectly reasonable questions about John's possible state of being!" Sherlock sat up, taking his feet off the table, knocking several magazines to the floor.

"Or you could just wait until he's out of surgery," Lestrade groaned and rolled his eyes. "That's it, I'm going to go get some coffee. You want some?"

"Black, two sugars," Sherlock muttered, turning back to his phone.

"Just behave while I'm gone, will you?"

Sherlock made a non-committal noise in his throat and waved his hand in Lestrade's direction. Lestrade huffed again and left, muttering under his breath. Sherlock ignored him.

"Mr. Holmes?" one of the nurses came over to him.

Sherlock sat bolt upright.

"John's awake?" he asked demandingly.

"Out of surgery. He should wake up soon."

"Are you sure there won't be any complications?" Sherlock asked anxiously, allowing his concern to show through in Lestrade's absence.

"It was just a gallbladder operation. He's absolutely fine."

John had told him as much before he'd been put under, had smiled reassuringly up at Sherlock even though it was John that was about to go into surgery. He followed the nurse eagerly as she led him to a post-op room.

"Now, don't be alarmed if he's confused or doesn't remember something. Anaesthesia has that effect on some people. He'll be fine once it wears off."

John was just blinking awake when Sherlock entered the room, and he dashed to John's side, practically throwing himself into the chair at his bedside.

"John!" Sherlock said, holding himself back from grasping at John's hand like he wanted to. "John, do you feel alright?"

John blinked a few more times and then smiled slowly.

"Well, hello there, sir. I don't think I've seen you around here before. Surely not, I'm sure I'd have remembered such a lovely face as yours. What are you doing this side of the world, luv?"

Sherlock couldn't find a word left in his brain to say.

John was grinning at him, eyes skimming over his figure with obvious and unfeigned interest. What was he doing? Didn't he remember who Sherlock was? The nurse said something about John being confused and forgetting things.

Confusion and amnesia aside, that didn't change the fact that John was... being extremely friendly. In a very non-platonic way.

John started shifting around, and leaned forward, ignoring the fact he still had an IV in his arm and had recently had his gallbladder removed.

Sherlock leaned forward in automatic concern.

"John, don't move so much, you've just had surgery," Sherlock said anxiously.

"You're sweet," John said, beaming at him. "How do I not know you? You seem to know me. I must be very lucky if I do."

"I'm really not sweet, John," Sherlock admonished, but he could feel heat stinging his cheekbones.