Authors Note: The chapters of the following story are set around other people's thoughts on what is happening. Sherlock's thoughts will appear in later chapters.

John sat by Sherlock's bedside, watching the rise and fall of the man's chest. Ever since the events that took place at that empty house and Baker Street, two nights ago, he'd been by Sherlock's side.

Sherlock had lost consciousness before they were ever out of the flat. He had been unconscious ever since.

Throughout the day, people came by and would try to talk to John, or leave some kind of 'Get Well Soon' present for Sherlock.

At one point Sally Donovan had stopped by, but quickly left when she laid eyes on Sherlock. John figured she still hadn't processed him being back even though he had been back for several months.

Just before visiting hours ended, Mycroft stopped by to see how his brother was doing.

"You know, John, I'm not surprised, Sherlock pulled such a stunt. It wouldn't be the first time he's escaped from the hospital," Mycroft said, as he stared at his brother's almost lifeless form.

"When was the first time?" John asked.

"He was ten at the time. He had fallen out of a tree and hit his head on the way down. He was unconscious when we got to him. Late that night he had woken up in the hospital. I guess that's when he decided that he didn't want to stay. We didn't realize he had escaped until his doctor told us. Mother had sent me home, since she didn't want to worry me anymore than I already was. When I got home, I found him sleeping in my bed," Mycroft said.

John chuckled. "I can't even imagine how he pulled that off."

"He climbed out the window," Mycroft stated. "He always liked to climb."

"What are you doing here Mycroft?" John asked.

"I was hoping Sherlock would be awake. I have a very important matter I need to discuss with him," Mycroft replied.

"If it's about the person who shot him, she's at home," John pointed out.

"It's not about that. It's about a far worse matter that has arisen in the past few days," Mycroft said. "Do call me when he wakes up."

Mycroft then left the room and down the hall

Sherlock had now been out for a week, and John still hadn't left his side. He refused to go home. If he went home, he would have to face Mary, or whatever her name was.

He pulled the memory stick out of his pocket and examined it. He was ever so tempted to find out what it was, but if Mary was she said she was, than any information on the memory stick had to be false.

Why did Sherlock say that he trusted her? She had killed him. He flatlined and was declared dead for two whole minutes. The surgeon had given up one him. The dark-haired man had somehow managed to bring himself back to life.

John didn't know how he did it, but he didn't care how. He was just glad Sherlock was alive, well barely alive. He wasn't out of the woods yet.

Someone walking into the room, pulled John out of his thoughts. He looked up at the person standing in the doorway. It was The Woman

"Ms. Adler?" John asked, surprised and not quite sure he was right.

"Hello John," Irene said as she moved closer to Sherlock's bed. "How is he?"

"He's been like this for a week," John replied. "Aren't you supposed to be dead?"

"That's what they wanted you to think," Irene stated. "I was saved at the last-minute and was moved to America."

"You faked your death," John summed up.

"With so help," Irene confirmed as she placed a hand on Sherlock's cheek.

John quickly caught on and realized that Sherlock had save her. He never would have guessed. Sherlock knew John was lying when he told him that Irene Adler was in Witness Protection.

"Did they find out who shot him?" Irene asked.

"No they didn't," John lied. "Who ever it was is probably long gone by now."

"Shame. Who would want to try and kill Sherlock Holmes?" Irene asked rhetorically

"Who wouldn't want him dead? That's any easier question to answer," John stated

"Well I would love to stay and chat, but I must be going now. I have to go see a client," Irene said as she headed for the door.

John looked at Sherlock and could have sworn that the sleeping man was blushing.