Italics= Sherlock's thoughts

Underlined italics= John's thoughts.

*italics in stars*= sound affects

Sherlock's POV

*Beep*

*Beep*

*Beep*

Oh God that's annoying, I thought, mentally glaring at the source of the beeping; obviously a heart monitor.

So that plus antiseptic smell means hospital.

Now to determine if my parents dragged me to see another ill and distant family member I don't know or if I'm here for another reason.

Ok, let's see. I'm lying horizontally, but it doesn't feel like chairs or a floor. There's sheets over me but maybe mummy just remembered them for once. Not conclusive evidence.

Is there something attached to my...?

There was a burst of pain in my left shoulder.

Ok, ow, yeah. Definitely me then. Oh, ow...

Deciding I'd had enough blind deduction practice (not like I needed practice) I opened my eyes.

At first the room was too bright and blurry, but as my eyes adjusted, everything came into focus and I gave myself a quick self-scan to see just why my shoulder hurt so much.

It was covered in bandages, but that was really my only visual clue unless I wanted to get up and find the chart, certainly setting off an alarm which could result in my constantly being watched.

I did a quick search through my Mind Palace.

Ok, school, bored, lockdown announcement, door broken down, gun shot at girl next to me-

"Ah, right. I, for some indiscernible reason, jumped in front of a girl and got shot for her, evidentially in the shoulder. The police that stay at the school must have gotten the man after I blacked out." I said out loud, quite glad I was alone so that I could avoid the stares but sort of wishing I had my skull with me. So much easier to talk when not literally talking towards a wall.

Looking around the room, I saw all the predictable stuff. Immaculate white walls, white floor, white sheets, metal bed frame, doctor's instruments, side table, empty bed side, folded paper on the table-

My eyebrows furrowed and I lifted my hands under my chin, careful with my left one.

Folded; sloppily, indicates haste or possibly, but improbably, the person is just a very bad folder. Improbable because the creases are rather sharp, just not even. The fact that it's folded and the dents show it's a note. Unlikely to be written by a doctor because doctors don't leave notes to their patients, and if they did why would they be in a hurry? Besides, if it were for another doctor it'd be put in a file or given right to them. Most definitely not from Mycroft unless he's feeling very generous today, mummy's on a business trip, father wouldn't care enough to stop by- let alone leave a note- I don't have any friends, Jim wouldn't be given access, and my nanny hates me. The feeling is mutual, anyhow.

So who...?

"Well, aside from hacking the security cameras, looks like there's only one way to find out."

I reached over to the table, noting that it was on my right hand side- either thoughtfulness or coincidence- and unfolded it.

'Get better soon, 'Lock! J.W, ' I read.

Then I read it again.

And again.

I read it another 3 times. And then I pinched myself.

"Owww... ok, not dreaming. What...? Ok, written quickly, so in a rush to leave. But..." I reached over and patted the seat of the chair by my bed. "Chair is still faintly warm. So they took the time to sit and stay for a bit, and didn't leave that long ago." Looking to the IV stand nearby, I noticed that though the medication was dripping at a rather high setting, the bag was nearly full. "Nurse came in not that long ago. So maybe he- obviously a he- wasn't supposed to be here and thought that a family member was coming in? He called me 'Lock, implying close connection but I know no one with the initials J.W. J could stand for Jim, but his last name is Moriarty and he doesn't call me 'Lock. So maybe-"

I closed my eyes to search my Mind Palace. There were whispers all around, but I couldn't make out words.

Looking up to the walls, I saw that I was in a new room- one I hadn't built. It had white wallpaper with maroon designs on it instead of the usual stone. The strange initials were written all over. But slowly, the J started to move away from the W, and new letters started to write themselves into place in gold ink.

J...

O...

H...

N...

With each new letter, the whispers came clearer.

"John... John... John..." they said.

The walls now read John W, and I suddenly remembered how the name had run through my head repeatedly after the bullet hit my shoulder.

"John!" I gasped, shooting out of my Mind Palace, wincing as my shoulder throbbed faintly.

My eyes narrowed in concentration. Ever since the first time the name randomly popped into my head, I'd been trying to figure out why. There was also an occasion where my knee or elbow hurt, as though I had scraped or bruised it, but there was nothing there. Or sometimes, I found myself gazing longingly at the other end of town, feeling I should be over there without knowing why.

And recently, the letters S.H- my own initials- had been showing up on walls and floor and doors in my Mind Palace. They had an odd look about them, as strange as that sounds. But they were scrawled throughout the place with no rhyme or reason in a lot of places.

Scrawled in the same writing as that note... John?

Something odd was going on, and I was only to happy to figure out what.

I made a mental sign in my Mind Palace- Get a hold of a computer.

-John POV on the way to the Watson household...-

"Ow!"

I clasped a hand to my left shoulder as it throbbed painfully.

It stopped quickly enough, and I continued walking, a bit slower than before.

But a few minutes later, I jumped. It felt like someone had pinched my left arm!

Ok... what?

I remembered right then how my left shoulder had hurt for most of yesterday, and right then something clicked.

Wait... do Sherlock and I have some sort of mental connection? Duh! Of course, how else could I have known so much about him?! But how... and why...?

But if I'm feeling what he is, that must mean that... He's awake!

I jumped in excitement, about to turn back. But then I remember how long I'd been gone and turned to the direction of my house again.

I stopped dead in my tracks after going only a few yards.

"John!" A voice gasped in my head. The same voice I heard the first time a few months back, and the same one as the kid in the elevator!

"John?" It came again, more confused this time.

Grinning, I continued walking home. I could always come back tomorrow, solve his mystery for him. But I decided to let him give it a go first. After all, mysteries are his thing!

A/N Complain all you want about the wait. I'm awful, I know.

Finally a bit of Sherlock POV! Sorry I've been making this mainly John centric. He's just easier to write... plus I love Sherlock whump and the shooting-and-unconscious-for-how-many-chapters? just sort of happened. Sorry! They'll be meeting up soon, and now Sherlock's awake again so yay!

As usual a good bit of this is written on my phone so I apologize for any Siri-caused misspellings. (My friend has this theory that Siri is auto-correct...)

Also, I may start used 3rd Person POV more. I've gotten used to it and I think it'll make this easier.

And, um... I'm not forcing anyone to, but if any of you are artists, it'd be awesome if I could get a fitting cover for this story! :)

Anyway, I hope you like it! You guys are lucky, you know why? I have too many stories going, so I decided to put all but three on hiatus. This is one of those three. You're welcome! ;)

Review? Please? :)