John, wanting the best possible care for his friend, oversaw much of the treatment Sherlock received during his time at the hospital. He'd been in the hospital for several days now, and today, John and the other doctors decided, Sherlock could go home.

Mycroft had visited Sherlock and Victor's flat to get Sherlock's things and found that there were horrors far beyond any they'd imagined inside. Pieces of Sherlock's violin were found splintered in the fireplace along with shattered cups and dishes, broken vases, a cracked mirror that looked as if someone (and they deduced that someone had been Sherlock) had been flung into it, blood-stained sheets in the laundry room left unwashed, and handcuffs ringed with blood from Sherlock struggling to escape. Mycroft had been unable to find most of Sherlock's belongings besides a few torn clothing articles. He took it upon himself to buy his little brother an entire new wardrobe and to replace any other possessions of Sherlock's that had been destroyed or damaged.

Sherlock had gotten himself dressed and ready to go while John took care of any remaining paperwork that needed to be filled out before taking Sherlock outside and hailing a cab. Sherlock didn't speak the whole ride home. He still hadn't spoken since that night John had found him on his doorstep. John was worried, but Lestrade thought it was still just the shock.

John brought Sherlock inside the flat and sat down on the sofa next to Sherlock. Sherlock rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"You can lie down if you want," said John with a friendly smile at the detective. Sherlock curled up on the sofa; his head rested in John's lap, who ran his fingers through his curly dark hair soothingly.

John still felt guilty for leaving Sherlock home by himself, even though Lestrade had told him numerous times it wasn't his fault what happened to Sherlock. There was no way John could've known Victor would come to the flat; there was nothing he could've done. Still, he felt a pang of guilt every time he looked at the dark bruises against Sherlock's pale face.

"I'm sorry," he breathed softly, twirling a lock of Sherlock's hair lovingly. Sherlock looked up at him; his eyes told John it was okay and John smiled slightly.

"I promise I won't ever let anyone hurt you like that again," said John. "Not you, not my Sherlock," he said, stroking his cheek lightly enough so as not to hurt him.

Sherlock nestled his head against John's abdomen.

"Okay?" asked John.

"Okay," replied Sherlock in a soft murmur. John smiled at Sherlock for having spoken for the first time in weeks. It was just one word, one soft-spoken word, but it was enough to assure John that everything would be just fine from now on and whatever happened, they would be okay.

AN: The end! Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter to you guys! I've been suuuuper busy! Hope you guys liked it! Pleeeease leave a review! Also I'm totally game if any of you guys have requests/writing prompts for me! I'd love some! PM me if you have one! Thanks for reading!