"Thanks, Mrs. Hudson. I'll be right there."

John hung up the phone and, yanking his stethoscope from around his neck, slapped it down on the counter and hurriedly pulled on his coat. Thank God he didn't have any patients at the moment.

He darted out to the waiting room and past Sarah's desk. She stopped him with a "John!"

He turned, impatient. "What is it? I have to go, right now!"

A stormy expression crossed Sarah's face. "John…" she said in a warning voice.

He leaned in close to her and spoke in a low voice, desperate. "Sarah. Please. Sherlock's just been attacked. I have to go and make sure he's alright." His voice broke on the last part. "Please."

Sarah nodded. "Go. Quickly."

John closed his eyes and let out the breath he'd been holding. "Thank you."

He turned for the door and heard Sarah say something. "What?" he asked, turning back, anxious to get going.

Sarah looked up at him. "Nothing. Just…make sure he's okay. And if you need anything…call me."

"Thanks, Sarah."

And with that John Watson was out the door, on his way to make sure his best friend stayed alive.

John ran up the steps of Baker Street. The door had been wide open; someone had gotten here just moments before him.

He took the stairs two at a time and all but collapsed into the living room. He stood up straighter to see Sherlock, lying on the couch, sipping from a glass of water, his head supported by the Union Jack pillow. Mrs. Hudson was sitting by him, dabbing at a cut on his cheek. He looked up and winced as his head twinged. "Oh, hello, John. What are you doing home so early?"

John stood stock still, not moving an inch. Sherlock frowned. "John? I'm very sorry…Mrs. Hudson wasn't supposed to call you at work. It's my fault, I gave her the number. Or maybe she found it in my phone. Either way, you can't blame her, because…John?"

John dropped all of his stuff; bag, coat, phone; on the floor and lunged for the couch. He collapsed on top of Sherlock and kissed him for all he was worth.

"You…daft…bugger…came…back…here…why…stupid…could'v e been…killed, Sherlock!" he gasped between kisses.

Sherlock pulled back. "So you're not…mad, that I took you away from work?" he asked hesitantly.

John frowned. "God, no, Sherlock! I'm just glad you're alive." He turned to Mrs. Hudson. "Where's Siger?"

Mrs. Hudson got the fiercest look John had ever seen on her face and she laughed, almost maliciously. "Oh, he's out cold on the kitchen floor. A frying pan is the best weapon one can have."

John nodded firmly. "Right. I'm going to go call Greg and…"

"No need, John, I've taken care of that." A posh voice cut through their conversation. "Detective Inspector Lestrade is on his way."

"You know, you're not fooling anyone by calling him 'Detective Inspector', Mycroft." Sherlock's voice drifted up from the couch.

Mycroft wrinkled his nose. "Whatever are you going on about, Sherlock?" he gestured to Sherlock behind his back and mouthed the word 'concussion' to John.

Sherlock grinned smugly. "The fact that you and Lestrade have been dating for almost two months now."

Mycroft's mouth fell open ever so slightly, but he closed it quickly with a snap. "Sherlock…" he said in a warning voice.

Sherlock waved a hand carelessly around. "Oh, it's fine. John and I have been shagging for longer than that."

Mycroft's mouth stayed open this time.

John gave Sherlock a stern glare. Time to divert the subject.

He turned to Mycroft. "So…you talked to Greg. What's going to happen with Siger now?"

Mycroft looked coldly at the unmoving body on the kitchen floor. "He'll be tried for child abuse and breaking and entering."

John raised his eyebrows. "Breaking and entering?"

Mycroft smiled unpleasantly. "Technicalities," he said, articulating each syllable.

John looked at him, not quite sure what he meant by that. "Oh. Right. Okay," he nodded.

Mycroft stood up straighter and took a breath. "He will be on trial in a few weeks, during which I will be testifying, and Sherlock as well, if he so chooses. Gregory is sending someone by to pick that," he gestured to the shape on the floor, curling his lip, "very soon."

Mycroft walked towards the door. "Have a good day. Sherlock, I will be sending you some of my cases to work on when you're better."

"I'm just fine." Sherlock muttered. "And I don't want to work on your cases." He pretended to observe Mycroft carefully. "Jam donuts go right to the hips, don't they?"

Mycroft looked at him coolly. "Good afternoon, John." he said, and then headed out the door, shutting it gently behind him.

Mrs. Hudson watched as he left. "Nice man, your brother!" she said cheerfully. She picked up her frying pan and headed for the door, opening it and slipping out. "I'll just leave the two of you to it, then!"

The door closed behind her and John and Sherlock were finally alone.

They sat still for some minutes, neither moving. And then suddenly they both moved and locked each other in a tight embrace.

"God, Sherlock, when Mrs. Hudson called…I was so scared. I thought you were going to die...I couldn't live through that, not again."

"I know," Sherlock said. "John, I…I'm so sorry."

John stiffened. "Sorry?" he asked incredulously. "Sherlock, you have absolutely nothing to be sorry for, understand?"

Sherlock nodded miserably. "I know, but John…it's my fault."

John grabbed Sherlock by the shoulders. "Sherlock, look at me. Look at me!"

Sherlock looked up. John's eyes bored into him.

"This isn't your fault. Not at all. He abused you, abused your trust and your love. He warped your mind and your heart. He hurt you, Sherlock, and none of this is your fault. Okay?"

Sherlock looked stunned. He nodded. "Okay, John."

John pulled Sherlock back into his arms. The detective wrapped his arms tightly around John's body.

He never wanted to let go again.

The End

A/N; Well, that's it! This was just a short companion fic to Can You See My Pain. I hope you enjoyed it, and once again I want to thank every single follower, favoriter, reviewer, even just readers; YOU are the reason I do this. Well, that and I love Sherlock. :D

Also, many, many, many thanks to Johnlock13 for keeping me going with encouragements, and especially her invaluable advice about all things British (because when one is an American who writes at four o clock in the morning, one is bound to make British-word-and-term mistakes :P)

Remember, for every review I get, Mycroft gets a piece of cake! Help Mycroft break his diet; leave a review!

Ta!

-Anonymoustache