Sherlock's heart leapt with optimism as he lifted his head, wide eyed. He saw the still body of Flora watching him with dull, squinted, hazel eyes. She had a very faint smile on her face. "I can hear you, you know."

Sherlock didn't know what to do, except smile.

"What happened?" She asked quietly. Sherlock got up and placed his hand on the side of her face. Flora's skin felt surprisingly soft, even with all the burns. She placed her nimble hand of top of Sherlock's and held it tight.

"You saved my life," Sherlock replied.

"What?" Flora tried to look confused but it was hard to tell as she couldn't make a proper facial expression. "When?"

"Earlier this evening," Sherlock replied.

"Oh," Flora muttered. "Saved your life, huh? What was I thinking?" She laughed quietly.

Sherlock smiled softly as Flora took her hand and ran it through his curly, brown and still wet, hair.

"Why is your hair wet?" Asked Flora. That's when Sherlock realised; Flora must have mild amnesia.

"You drowned me," he joked, making Flora giggle hoarsely. "You pushed me into the pool, then the bomb went off. You got caught up in that and that's how you ended up here, because you chose to sacrifice yourself for me."

"Oh..." Flora looked away and a brief smile appeared on he face. "Shame. I liked that shirt and now it's ruined."

Sherlock looked at the crinkled purple shirt he wore and chuckled. "That doesn't matter. At least you're alive."

"I suppose," she twiddled one of Sherlock's curls and then placed he hand back down beside her. "I've never broken a bone before..." She indicated to her arm.

"I don't want you to break another one," said Sherlock.

"Neither do I. Anyway, what happened to Kate? She left didn't she?"

"Yes and I have no idea," replied Sherlock. "She could be anywhere."

"If I wasn't such a wimp, I would have shown her what's what."

"Now, now," Sherlock pointed a finger at Flora. "Don't get too full of yourself."

"You're one to talk," she laughed. Her eyes started to open more, which made her seem more awake. "Show off."

"You're right, but I'm a showoff and that's what showoffs do," Sherlock said.

"'You can't turn on and off like a tap.' That's what you said the first day we met," Flora closed her eyes, as if she was picturing it in her head. Sherlock remembered this well. She had sat across from him in 221B and he had deduced why she was here in London. She had said she that she felt scared by Sherlock's words and he also called her boring at the time. Which now Sherlock knew she was the complete opposite.

He cleared his throat. "How are you feeling?"

"Does crushed count?"

"If you want it to."

"I'm just kidding," Flora assured. "I'm fine. Apart from my arm and now my nose looks funny."

"It doesn't look funny to me," smiled Sherlock. Flora smiled back and sat up straight.

"Thanks," she replied.

"Do you remember anything from before explosion?" Sherlock asked.

"Not particularly," she replied. "Only that I said that you needed to trust me," Flora began to fill up with tears. "That broke my heart, Sherlock. I said it because I never thought in a million years, I'd survive. You just had to trust me in that I would live. I wanted you to know how much..." She stopped and shook her head. "I'm sorry."

Sherlock leaned over the bed and hugged her tight. "It's fine... It broke mine too. That's if I had one."

"Don't be daft," Flora hooked her free arm around his neck and grinned weakly.

There was a knock at the door and Sherlock stood up straight to see who it was. Mycroft.

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock asked. "Don't you have important meetings to attended?"

"No," Mycroft replied walking in. "I'm off duty today, but I shan't stay long."

"That really makes a difference," Sherlock said sarcastically. "But since when are you 'off duty?' I didn't know that was a thing in your world of goldfish."

"Sherlock," Flora interrupted. "Stop being so rude. It's nice of your brother to take time off his busy schedule to visit. Thank you, Mycroft."

"My pleasure, Miss Grey."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. He thought he'd seen the last of dear, old Mycroft.

"It's good to see that you're alive and well," Mycroft carried on. "How are you?"

"Great, I still hurt though," she indicated to her arm and then smiled to Sherlock. "Your brother makes me feel better."

Mycroft looked curiously at Sherlock who looked back at him. "Is that so?"

Sherlock nodded.

"Very human," Mycroft said, then Sherlock turned away again. "It's been wonderful seeing you both. I'd best be off," he turned and left.

"Why do you dislike him so much?" Flora asked.

"You can't imagine how many reasons there are. Most of them stemming from when we were children."

"Mycroft's not so bad."

"He really is," Sherlock argued. "Don't get involved with him again."

"I'll try not to," she paused. "When am I allowed to leave?"

"I don't know."

"You're Sherlock Holmes, you know everything," Flora smiled.

She seemed to be a lot happier now. A lot more in-tune with the world. This is way it should always be.

"Not quite," Sherlock responded. "Maybe a week or more. It's a shame I can't make you instantly better. Otherwise the doctors would say you could go now; It's your heart that they're worried about."

"Forget about my heart. At least it's working," Flora argued. "That means I can go."

"You're eager, aren't you? You need to rest, so I'll go now. John will be worried sick. We've been gone all night," Sherlock told her.

"Don't go," she whispered hoarsely.

"I'll come back soon, Sherlock assured her, making his way to the door. "I promise."

"Sherlock?" Flora called.

He turned around, fixing his blue-green gaze upon her.

She paused for a moment before saying: "I love you."

Sherlock smiled. He didn't have it in him at this moment in time to admit to her. He turned his back to Flora and walked out feeling guilty. But he shook it off almost instantly and continued down the corridor. He left Flora lying silently, eyes closed and trying to remember what had happened. But it was all fuzzy. She still didn't quite understand why she had saved Sherlock and nearly killed herself. Although, she did think that he was more important than she was. They were polar opposites, but sometimes, opposites attract. While the blackness filled her vision, Flora could hear rapid footsteps enter the room. She didn't have time to fully open her eyes, as Sherlock leaned over the bed frame and kissed Flora on the lips.

"I love you too," he said at last...


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