Sherlock hadn't awoken John early in the morning as he had grown accustomed to. When John went to the cafeteria expecting to see the lanky man with dark curls sitting in his usual corner, he was disappointed. John was almost angry. Damn bastard got out and didn't even tell him. But then John realized he was just being selfish. He should be happy for Sherlock. Still, he didn't particularly enjoy finding himself alone.

A bug eyed fellow walked over to John's table as he was munching mindlessly on toast. "Looks like your freak friend is missing," he commented snidely.

John didn't bother to look up. "Yeah, because he managed to get out of here, unlike you."

The man cackled. "Didn't ya hear? Freak got sent to lockdown. The man cracked."

John felt a wave of nausea hit him, followed closely by boiling anger at the man's smirk. He looked happy that Sherlock had broken down. It was disgusting.

When John was fully aware, he was being dragged away by guards as the bug eyed man clutched his bleeding nose, screaming obscenities.

"John." It was his therapist, Ella Thompson, looming above him. They were leaning him back onto a stretcher and strapping him down. "John, you need to calm down."

"Sherlock," he croaked. "Where's Sherlock?"

"He's fine, John. Now please, stop trying to punch the nurses. You need to relax."

"I... I need to see Sherlock. He's my friend."

Now the face of a nurse loomed above. "This will make you sleepy, Mr. Watson," he said just before John blacked out.

Sherlock smirked. "You really made quite a commotion."

"Sherlock?" John asked, head throbbing.

"They didn't want to let me in, but then I started deducing the affair the nurse was having with the doctor and they agreed to make an exception."

"You... You weren't there. You were gone and you were my best friend and I was alone again."

Sherlock pursed his lips into a tight line. He opened his mouth, changed his mind, and shook his head. "I may have had a secret stash of cocaine that may have been raided and confiscated," he admitted. "But I didn't leave you, John Watson. Even if I'm not physically there, I shall always be looking out for you."

John didn't say anything. He wasn't entirely sure if he was lucid or dreaming.

"You know," Sherlock began slowly. "Kevin isn't completely gone either. He will always be with you in your mind."

John finally let himself break down. "I know, Sherlock. That's why I'm here."

John sobbed into his hands, his back shaking with each ragged breath. "I can't get his voice out of my head. I can't stop replaying the fight in my mind!"

"John. John, look at me."

John turned his blotchy face upwards, tears streaming steadily down reddened cheeks.

"Kevin wouldn't want you like this. You're too quick to blame yourself. It really, truly wasn't your fault. But Kevin's dead now, and you're still alive, yeah? So quit wasting your life in this bloody awful place and go out and live, John, for Kevin. Because you deserve it and you have it. Don't let your life slip away."

John let out a loud sob and stood up on shaky legs before wrapping his arms around Sherlock and pressing a wet face against the taller man's chest. "Thank you Sherlock."

Sherlock shuffled his feet slightly but didn't shove John away. "It's going to get better, John Watson. We're going to get out of here."

John pulled away and raised his eyebrows at the look on Sherlock's face. "What?"

"I can't believe you punched a man," Sherlock admitted. "That'll be at least another two weeks added to your stay."

John groaned. "Shut up, Sherlock. I was temporarily happy you were back. Don't ruin it."

"You know, I've never had a friend before."

"Hmm?" John said between mouthfuls of pasta.

"I've never had a real friend. I mean, sure there's Molly and Lestrade, but that's mainly professional. I'd loathe their presence outside of my work."

"Surely you've had friends before," John prodded.

"Does Redbeard count?"

"Who?"

"He was my dog."

"Any human friends? You never, I don't know, go to a bar and meet up with mates?"

"Not really my thing," Sherlock shrugged.

"Right. No secret meetings to discuss the science behind the earth's rotation around the sun? Sounds more like you." John gave a wry smile.

"Don't be silly, John. The physics of the universe have no bearing on my work and are therefore unimportant." He paused. "Does the earth really rotate around the sun? I thought it was the other way around."

John laughed until he saw the furrow between Sherlock's brows. "Christ, you're not serious, are you?"

Sherlock winced slightly. "It doesn't matter. The end result remains the same: unimportant."

John laughed until milk spurted from his nose. He reddened in embarrassment, pulling a grin from Sherlock.