“Please stay.” Sherlock blinked and looked back at John. He looked small, there in the hospital bed.
“I’m sure Mary will be along shortly.”
John shook his head. “I want you to stay.”
Sherlock looked at him, weighing his options. Finally he crossed the room and took a seat. John reached out and fingered the familiar coat. “After you jumped…I kept your coat. I…used to sleep in it sometimes.”
There was nothing Sherlock could say to that. Instead he reached out and touched John’s hand, tracing the knuckles. The hands that healed, or killed. But could he heal this?
John placed his other hand over Sherlock’s, stilling him. Looking up, Sherlock met his eyes, heart skipping. John said nothing, just gave him a smile. And that was all he needed for the world to be right.