A Collection of Shorts

What He Forgot

A/N: I have not yet proof-read this story. I just wrote a bunch of little parts of the story and put them together in a hurry, as I have to balance my time spent doing my homework, working on my animation projects while trying to write a story.

It happened during a case, a seemingly simple one involving a stolen painting and a shady art dealer. Sherlock and John had tracked down the culprit to a warehouse, where they found him surrounded by armed men. A shootout ensued, and Sherlock managed to take out most of the thugs. But he didn't see the one who sneaked up behind John and hit him on the head with a metal pipe.

Sherlock heard John's cry of pain and turned around, just in time to see him collapse on the floor. Ignoring the remaining gunmen, Sherlock rushed to John's side, cradling his head in his arms, feeling blood seep through his fingers. Sherlock checked his pulse, his breathing, his pupils. He was alive, but unconscious.

Worry, fear, regret, pain, all those emotions swarming inside Sherlock, and he had no idea what to do. There was nothing he could do. And that was frightening. Sherlock was a self-proclaimed high-functioning sociopath, he didn't care about anyone in the world.

Except for the ones he did care about.

John.

He would never forgive himself if John didn't wake up.

Of course, Sherlock had called an ambulance as quickly as possible, and soon, John was in the hands of the doctors. Sherlock paced outside the door. Molly, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson had arrived soon afterward. They assured him that he had done everything he could, but Sherlock felt he hadn't done enough.

What if John never woke up?

What if......What if John is gone forever?

After what felt like an eternity, a doctor came out of the operating room. He looked grim and tired. Not a good sign.

"Mr. Holmes?" he said quietly.

"How is he? Is he alright? Can I see him?" All those questions gushed out of the detective's mouth.

The doctor sighed.

"He's stable, for now. But he suffered a severe head trauma. There's swelling in his brain. We managed to stop the bleeding, but there's still a risk of infection or complications."

Sherlock felt a surge of relief. Then a wave of dread.

"What does that mean?" He demanded, "Will he recover?"

The doctor was silent for a moment.

"We don't know yet." The doctor admitted finally. "It's too early to tell. He may wake up soon, or he may not. He may regain his memory, or he may not. He may be the same person he was before, or he may not."

Sherlock felt something cold grip his heart.

"He-he may not?" For the first time, words were tripping, tumbling from his lips. "B-but he can't......he can't!" Sherlock collapsed into a chair, his hands gripping his hair. He may not.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Holmes. But there's the possibility that he may have permanent brain damage. He may lose some or all his memories. He may lose some or all his cognitive functions. He may lose some or all of his personality traits."

Sherlock felt a lump in his throat as he said the words.

"He may lose himself."

"I'm sorry."

Sherlock felt numb. He wanted to yell, he wanted to curse the doctor. I'm sorry. That was what they all told him. I'm sorry isn't enough. I'm sorry won't save John.