"I'd Be Lost Without My Lover."

I know I know it's been ages since I last updated. Please no one kill me. Most of my big tests are over (minus finals) so I'm less stressed and have more time to write. No one hate me! D:
(Also sorry if this sucks. I just wrote this tonight. XP)
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It had felt like ages since John had entered the hospital. He had not heard a word on Sherlock and he was not aloud to see him. The fear and anxiety were eating away at him, causing his hands to shake wildly.

He felt some form of relief when he saw Cassandra and Jim walking up to him. Cassandra's face was stained with tears and to his suprise Jim even looked a bit down. John scooted over on the bench, giving the two more room as they joined him in the dreadful silence.

"How is he?" John finally whispered. He watched as Cassandra just shook her head fighting back the new onslaught of tears.

"Both legs are broken, his right arms was dislocated, most of the bones in his fingers are either shattered or cracked slightly, a piece of metal went into his side and he has a severe concussion." John felt his heart sink as every word left Cassandra's lips. "Luckily none of his organs were damaged from the heroine," she added slowly.

The three returned to silence and it seemed to drag on for hours.

John was left with his head and all the blame and guilt building up inside it. He blamed himself. If his expectations hadn't been so high and he hadn't expected Sherlock to meet them none of this would have happened. They would be at the cabin or the flat, wrapped in eachothers arms, watching eachother in silence. But instead they were here. The welcoming thought of the ocean was gone and John was only left with darkness and uncertainty.

After almost five hours a nurse came out and gave John permission to go in and see Sherlock. He hesistated. The idea of Sherlock all banged up and connected to so many wires was heart breaking, but he had to go in.

He made his way to the hospital room slowly. His feet felt as if they were made of lead and the floor was quicksand. Slowly, he pushed the door open and felt every fiber of happieness and hope burn up in seconds. His eyes crossed Sherlock's broken body heavily.

He had a bandage, stained crimson, wrapped around his head. His legs wrapped up so much that they looked as if they belonged to a giant. The wires and tubes making Sherlock look as if her was a cyborg being programmed with all the information in the world. This wasn't Sherlock. This was a illusion. He wasn't in that body. He was somewhere else.

John made his way to the side of the bed and pulled up a stool, looking down upon Sherlock's broken face. His eyes were closed and his breathing shallow. John couldn't handle the sight. He felt as if he was a young child who's puppy had just been struck by a car, and even though the blood covered the street he refused to believe it was his dog.

He was about to get up and leave when Sherlock's eyes opened. He saw, not the ocean, but a deep, dark, calm lake that looked up at him.

"Hey there Sherlock," John choked out. He couldn't handle the dead look of Sherlock's face.

At first he didn't expect a response, but was shocked when Sherlock took a deep breath and began to speak.

"H-Hello, John. Who all. . .Is h-here?"

"Your mother and father, Mycroft, Cassandra, Mrs Hudson and Jim Moriarty."

Sherlock let out the best form of a scoffing noise he could with the breathing mask on his face.

"What's Cassandra d-doing here? . . She hates hospitals."

"You attempted suicide Sherlock! Of course Cassandra is going to be here! You're her brother!"

"My family holds no sibling compassion."

John was stunned into silence. He felt his sorrow and guilt flow out and replaced my anger and frustration.

"Do you not understand how normal people feel at all? Do you not understand the impact of what you did?"

"Cassandra and Mycroft don't feel they are part of the Holmes family. Mrs Hudson and mummy are over emotional and father probably is dissapointed that I didn't die." Sherlock rolled his eyes before a coughing fit over took him. When it ended he grimaced in pain and turned to fiddle with his morphine taps.

"Do you not undersand the pain you caused, you machine. . .Saud this," and with that John got up and left Sherlock to his own little world were no one cared and no one ever should.

He returned to the others in the lobby just as Cassandra and Jim were leaving.

"We are going home to get some rest. Want to go?" Cassandra tried her best to give John a warm smile but her face crumbled. She wasn't going to be alright for a long time.

He responded with a nod as they made their way to the car. Jim was old enough to drive so he climbed into the drivers seat as John entered the back and Cassandra got in on the passenger side. John watched out the window as lights and buildings passed by in a blur as the rain tapped and glistened on the window. He listened to the faint sound of the music from the radio.

'She's in a long black coat tonight
Waiting for me in the downpour outside
She's crying baby come home in a melody of tears,
While the rhythm if the rain keep time'

John took in every word and somehow related the lyrics to him and Sherlock. Minus the fact that they were both boys he felt as if he was standing in the rain yelling at Sherlock through a wall to let him in but never won. He just stood outside the wall crying and yelling while freezing, and the only help he got was from the few odd people around to suffer through it all with him. He felt as if he was in love with a machine, and for now that's all Sherlock was to him.

A machine.