Omg what is this? An update? At 2:30 in the morning? I'm alive? Yup, I'm back for a short while. I just finished this chapter on a whim, and I couldn't leave you all waiting any longer than you should. To be honest, you don't deserve to wait at all, this is all my fault really. Technically school and work is to blame, but still. I can't even begin to say how sorry I am for making you guys wait so long inbetween chapters. Updates will still be posted, albeit very slowly.
I guess it's also my fault for leaving this alone because of my cosplays. I've been doing so many of those. (if you're interested at all in looking at the ones I've done, go to Cosplay Amino and follow Ramenhood, or to facebook and follow RamenHood Cosplay and Art. Either one you will see my latest stuff when I update them, and omg you will figure out what I look like hooray.)
Either way, I've been keeping you guys too long from what you came here for.
Enjoy~

"You're sad to leave?" Sherlock mentioned. He couldn't help it but know exactly what she was talking about.

(f/n)'s face grew a bit red in color, a nice change from the pale that she had been though. "No, no, I just…forgot that I had a flat to myself." She said. "I wonder if it's still even under my name."

"It is." He answered. "I called the landlord yesterday and asked about it. It's ready for you to move back in at any time."

(f/n) smirked. "I guess I have to move back in then. But…I think I'll stay with you and John for a while longer, until I'm healed and can do ordinary tasks myself."

"We're both going to give John a run for his money eh?" Sherlock joked, holding up his casted arm to (f/n)'s.

She smiled, knocking her cast up to Sherlock's gently, the yawned. "What time is it?"

"Quarter to 4 in the morning."

"Have you been awake the whole time?"

"Most of it. The medicinal drugs these doctors use are quite powerful, enough to knock me out for a couple hours."

"How long was I asleep for?"

"Half a day. You should rest more. I'm sure you'll need your energy to deal with John and Mrs. Hudson tomorrow when they visit."

"Yeah…okay, but…"

"But…?"

"Can you, stay here with me?"

Sherlock huffed sharply, but giving in and deciding to stay. With his good hand, he pushed the chair- that he had previously been sitting in- the little ways to the side of (f/n)'s hospital bed, and roughly sat down once again. (f/n) laid down facing Sherlock reaching out her hand and closing her eyes. Sherlock took hold of her hand gently, propping his arm up in a way he wouldn't have to strain himself by holding it up himself, and would be able to keep holding her hand even if either of them fell asleep. He felt her sigh in relief and relax her tense muscles. Even his own muscles seemed to be more relaxed than normal. The pair both fell asleep within minutes.

The next morning, around 9:00 a.m., a knock at the door woke Sherlock, the detective instantly awake and alert. A nurse walked into the room, bearing a tray with the basic hospital breakfast. "Hello Sherlock. How is your arm this morning?" She asked with a sweet tone, honed in by years of working with various kinds of patients.

"Fine, just fine." He answered quickly, gently removing his hand from (f/n)'s and sitting straight in the chair. He glanced over to (f/n) without thinking, taking in every fact about her current state.

"That's good." The nurse said, setting the tray down on the swivel table attached to the bed. "This is for you. Whenever (f/n) wakes up you can call down to the cafeteria for food if she's hungry."

"Yes, fine."

"Has she woken up at all yet?"

"At quarter to 4 in the morning. She was up for a few minutes. I told her to get more rest."

The nurse nodded. "You were right in telling her that. After an experience like that, I'm surprised she's held it together as well as she has. You're lucky to have such a strong someone by your side."

Sherlock's breath caught in his throat. "W-what do you mean 'Lucky to have'?" He questioned, his normally sharp mind caught off guard by an unfamiliar statement.

The nurse smiled, and laughed softly. "Honestly, you two. You've been here for less than a day and all of us see how you look at her. More to the point, you haven't left her side since you got here."

"I-I…uh." Sherlock stuttered, at a loss for words in the first time in his life.

"You should tell her." The nurse advised. "It couldn't hurt."

"But…she wouldn't agree."

The nurse shook her head. "Let me tell you something, and I know you are smart enough to get this. You see the heartrate monitor? Her pulse is slightly higher than her normal rate. Not very noticeable for one not trained to pay attention. Now, take her hand." Sherlock did as instructed, (f/n)'s heartrate slowly ever so slightly. "See that? You reassure her that everything is going to be okay."

"Whatever." Sherlock interrupted. "That's just because someone is holding her hand. It doesn't matter who it is."

"Not with the data that we've collected here at the hospital. The only one that her heartrate goes to perfectly normal with is you. You are the one that she trusts the most. She knows she will be safer around you. If that's not love, then I don't know what is."

"It's not safe around me…" Sherlock mumbled.

"It doesn't matter if it's safe around you or not, what does matter is that you will make it safe for her."

With that, Sherlock was speechless. Drove to having no words by a mere nurse. Of course, he would never say that out loud, but it hurt his ego just by thinking about it. But the more he thought about it however, the more he thought that the nurse was right all along. Silence filled the room after their conversation, and the nurse finished up with her routine checks, and left the room. Not without giving Sherlock a wink, and nodded in (f/n)'s general direction. Sherlock rolled his eyes, and sighed, knowing that the nurse was right. Neither of them were going to get better unless the elephant in the room was talked about. He was sure that (f/n) knew about his feelings towards her, and she couldn't be that naïve to deny her feelings towards him either. The only thing that was standing in Sherlock's way was the fact of how he was going to go about telling her or bringing it up in normal conversation. There was always just blurting it out at the beginning of a conversation, just to get it over with and get the weight off of his shoulders. Sherlock wouldn't do that to her however, not after the events of the past day. He would just have to deal with it when the best time came for it. For now, he would try to keep (f/n) in the dark about the situation and let her recover first.

Sherlock snatched one of the slices of toast from the breakfast tray and took miniscule bites every so often. He waited for about an hour and a half until (f/n) stirred again. She blinked the sleep out of her eyes and rubbed them with her one good hand, then yawned. "Morning." Sherlock said, still nibbling on the toast.

"What time is it?" Was the first thing she asked once her drowsiness had left.

"About half past ten in the morning. The nurse brought you some breakfast earlier."

"Is that why you helped yourself to some of it?"

"Of course, you were sleeping, why let it go to waste?"

(f/n) just rolled her eyes and propped herself up with her one good arm. Once she could hold herself up in a sitting position, Sherlock turned the swivel table towards her, carefully as to not let the cup of water spill. After a quick breakfast, (f/n) pushed the table to the side and laid down on the bed once again with a heavy sigh. "So, what's on the agenda for today?" She questioned after a silent moment.

"Go home. What else do you think?" Sherlock answered.

"I'm assuming you are going to pull some strings to get me out of here?"

"Obviously."

"Good, I hate this place."

"It makes it worse when you know there is a fully-trained army doctor living at Baker Street, who is capable of taking care of a simple broken arm."

"Don't remind me. How did John take this whole ordeal anyways?"

"Furious, definitely. If I wouldn't have stayed here, he would be next in line. He's quite worried about you. In fact, everyone is. Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade were here last night when you were admitted."

(f/n) smiled softly. "Well, good to know that someone cares." She mumbled. "Can we go home soon? I'm getting tired of the color white."

Sherlock smirked. "I'm working on it as we speak." He said, still messing around on his phone. "At this rate, you'll be out of here by tonight."

She only smiled, and closed her eyes. Her breath was too active for her to be falling asleep, and instead she was thinking. How would life be now? Would she stay at Baker Street for a while longer or go home? The case is solved, what else is there to do? She decided to let the concept go for now, concentrate on the current events, and think about the future a little later on. Sherlock broke her out of her trance by speaking up. "The doctor is headed up right now to check on your condition, if you are well enough to walk and function on your own for the most part, they will discharge you from the hospital and we can head back to Baker Street."

"Thank you Sherlock, for everything."

He turned a light shade of pink when he saw (f/n)'s smiling face, and turned his gaze quickly to the side. "You're welcome." He mumbled. "Let's just…get out of here, okay?"

"Sounds like a plan."

One hour later, (f/n) was fully discharged from the hospital, but was recommended to be at home as most as possible. Her body was still recovering, and needed to be looked after. Sherlock would not leave her side once they left the hospital. The walk home felt more like an escort to her, not that she minded of course. There was a feeling of security that it gave her, and that she knew the walk home wasn't going to dangerous at all. It was nice. Not a word was spoken the entire time. There didn't need to be. (f/n) knew that Sherlock was going to be there for her while she recovered.

As they arrived at Baker street, the pair was first met with an anxious John and a worried Mrs. Hudson waiting in the living space. (f/n) stepped through the threshold, and John was immediately upon her, giving her a tight but gentle hug. "Thank goodness you're alright." He mumbled.

"Hello John, it's so nice to be out of that hospital." (f/n) began as the group walked up to the flat.

"You are never leaving here again, you hear me?"

"Not for a while at least. At least let me walk outside to get some fresh air every once in a while okay?"

"Deal"

"Oh yes, reunions are always so touching. A loved one survived turmoil of some sorts and is now back on their feet. How wonderful." Sherlock interrupted the pair, sweeping past them and moving to the kitchen. "(f/n), you should get some more rest while you can. I'm sure Lestrade will have some final questions about the incident, he normally does anyway. Something about precautions and whatnot."

(f/n) rolled her eyes. "Fine Sherlock." She said exasperatedly.

John shrugged his shoulders. "He's right, you know. Rest is going to be your best friend for the days to come." He mentioned. "Mrs. Hudson and I will make you something to tide you over until dinner alright? You get into that bed, okay?" Mrs. Hudson nodded softly with a smile, and disappeared back downstairs.

"If the doctor says so." She joked before heading into the bathroom to quickly change into more comfortable clothes and get into bed.

John glanced over at Sherlock, who was very intently avoiding John's gaze by staring into one of his flasks at a substance that seemed very well like orange juice, but surely wasn't. "Something the matter, Sherlock?" John inquired.

"No. Everything is fine." Sherlock answered quickly, setting down the flask.

Before John could say another word, Sherlock was moving various flasks and test tubes around, looking at each one before setting it down once more. "Are you sure? You seem a bit more frantic than usual." John continued.

Sherlock stopped for a moment, and set down the last flask. "I'm fine, John. I just need to think."

"Is it about (f/n)?"

A heavy pause filled the air as the pair waited for the other to say something. Sherlock broke the silence with a light sigh, and moved his gaze towards his bedroom, where (f/n) was. "Maybe. Yes? I don't know." He answered quietly.

"You don't know? That's a first." John raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I've always thought that you know everything."

"I do, John, do not think any shorter of me. But…"

"But, what?"

"How do you deal with it?"

John shook his head. "Huh? Deal with what? What's it?"

"Having a heart. It's exhausting." Sherlock walked past John to sit heavily down on his chair, leaning back slightly. "It's so complicated."

"I would've thought that you'd be interested by something so complicated."

"As would I, but it feels like a burden. I feel like I'm being sat on by a damn elephant."

"You need to get it off your shoulders. Say something."

"Everyone says that!" Sherlock said. "You say it, the nurse said it, even Lestrade!"

"So, why don't you then?" John went to sit on his chair across from Sherlock as he spoke.

Sherlock sighed again. "(f/n) has too much on her plate to deal with anything pertaining to this matter. I do not want to stress her out even more so. She doesn't need this burden."

"It's not a burden Sherlock."

"To me it is. To (f/n) it surely would be. She needs to concentrate on healing."

"Maybe it would help her. Give her something stable."

Sherlock just sighed once more, letting his head fall back onto the upholstery of the chair. John went ahead and walked downstairs to where Mrs. Hudson was preparing a batch of soup on her stovetop. He sat down on the nearby chair at the table, tapping his fingers on the linoleum impatiently. "Something wrong dear?" Mrs. Hudson inquired.

"No." John replied. "Well…I just wish they would both get over this whole thing."

"Oh, you know Sherlock. He'll always plan every outcome first before taking a step."

"I've never seen him plan for this long before then." He breathed out. "I've debating whether or not just telling the both of them myself."

Mrs. Hudson flicked the burner off for the soup once it was done, and poured it into a separate serving bowl to cool for a few moments. "I'm sure that's not the best idea that you've had. I think just waiting and seeing what happens will be the best thing for them. You shouldn't force people into telling the truth. Let them say what they have to on their own."

John was silent for a long moment. "You're right. I'm just tired of seeing them duck around each other."

"Well, tell Sherlock to go give (f/n) this. Maybe it'll spark something. You never know." Mrs. Hudson handed John a tray with the bowl of soup, a few biscuits, and a glass of water.

John smiled softly. "Let's just hope." He mentioned before walking back up the stairs with the tray in hand.

Sherlock was still sulking in his chair when John returned, and with a soft kick to the shin John gained his attention. "Sherlock, give this to (f/n). I've got to go help Mrs. Hudson clean up downstairs." He said calmly.

"Mrs. Hudson has cleaned the entire building twice over already. You are free to give her the food."

"I meant clean up the dishes we just used to make this food. Now, go give it to her before it gets cold. And make sure that cat of hers doesn't get into your room, I don't want it to walk all over her while she's recovering. "

Sherlock stood up with a huff, but took the tray anyways and turned to his room. John nodded in success, and headed back downstairs quickly before Sherlock changed his mind. Sherlock was about to rebuttle, but John was gone before he knew it. He huffed, but went to his room anyways. He knocked on the door softly, then walked in. "(f/n), this is from John and Mrs. Hudson." He said to her when she sat up in bed.

"Thanks Sherlock. Can you thank Mrs. Hudson and John for me?"

"Obviously." He said, closing the door behind him.

"Good. Now, I'm starving."

Sherlock sat down across from (f/n) on the mattress, sitting cross-legged and leaning forward, his elbows on his knees and his chin in the palm of his hand. He watched her eat slowly, keeping an eye on how much she actually ate to track the nutrients she was getting according to her recovery schedule. Obviously she had noticed his looks and gave him one in return. "What? Are you going to be following me everywhere now? I'm not completely hopeless you know." She mentioned, then taking another bite.

"I know that. I'm just thinking."

"About what?"

"Things."

"What things?"

"Things others have said."

"About?"

"Me."

"And what are they?"

"None of your concern for the moment."

"For the moment?"

"Yes."

"When will I get to know?"

"As soon as I've figured out when to tell you."

"Tell me what?"

"The things I'm thinking about."

"Why did I even try to have a decent conversation with you?"

Sherlock smirked. "Because you have nothing better to do besides either finish your meal, or take a nap. Thus you attempted to entertain yourself for a short time before you fell asleep."

(f/n) nodded. "Sounds like a nice plan, I think I'll go with that."

"Good."

Silence befell the pair once again, Sherlock's gaze still lingering over (f/n) as she ate, and continued to ignore him. Minutes later, her meal once just about gone, and a yawn sprung from her mouth. "And time for that nap." Sherlock said, reaching forward to grab the tray from (f/n)'s lap.

She let her hand drift down to the tray to put her silverware down, brushing Sherlock's hand by accident while doing so. Almost immediately, a light tint of red washed over both of their faces, to which both of them noticed the other's face doing so. Obviously, they each had an idea of what was going on, and it was only the matter of one of them building the courage to tell the other. Which would prove to be rather difficult, seeing as how they both are too stubborn and too prideful to admit to loving the other. Many pregnant moments later, Sherlock was the first to react. He cleared his throat and shook his head slightly, inhaling deeply to calm his racing heart. The tray was pulled away from (f/n) and put to the side on the small bedside table. Sherlock went to get up, until a hand snatching his arm stopped him from doing so. (f/n) had leaned forward just enough to grab him. "Sherlock. Can you stay with me again? At least, until I fall asleep?" She asked tentatively, turning her still red face to the side, refusing to meet eye contact.

Sherlock was silent for a short moment longer, before breathing deep once again, and complying with her request. He moved back to the bed, but instead laid down beside (f/n) on the mattress, putting his hands behind his head with a huff. Still acting as pompous as ever, what a surprise. (f/n) pulled the thick blanket up to her chest, rolling to her side and faced away from Sherlock. While she fell asleep, Sherlock had pulled out his phone, scanning it for any updates, notifications, or information on anything interesting. Fifteen minutes passed without him noticing, until- in her sleeping state- (f/n) rolled over towards Sherlock and put an arm around his waist.

Sherlock's body stiffened up immediately; not expecting the sudden attention, albeit unconscious attention, but attention nonetheless. He glanced down at (f/n), scanning over her peaceful state. He let out the breath he never knew he held in, and built up his courage to slink down the mattress, and wrap his own arm around her shoulders to bring her in closer. He was sure he would fall asleep as well, and sooner or later (f/n) would be the one to wake first, so he wouldn't have to deal with second-hand embarrassment if they woke in sync. If anything, John would check in to see how (f/n) was doing, and would see them. Which Sherlock dubbed it worth enough to deal with afterwards if it meant (f/n)'s comfort.

He looked down at the sleeping figure again, feeling his heart swell as he felt her pull closer to him and grip his shirt.

"What are you doing to me," He said almost silently. "To make me love you so much."