I woke up and the ceiling was higher than that of my room, so I wasn’t at home, and I could smell disinfectant so I wasn’t at my uncle’s house, the only other conclusion I could come up with was hospital. I tried to stretch my arms feeling sore and stiff, as if I hadn’t moved them in a while, but they encountered a barrier and would only move an inch or two in any direction, looking down I saw why. It wasn’t uncommon for doctors, even in this day and age to use strait jackets if it was necessary, and from what I was remembering it seemed there had been plenty of reason to use one. There was a window out onto the corridor on one side of my room, as was common in most psychiatric wards and I had been in enough of them to know. Sitting up I decided that the first thing to do would be to get the infernal jacket off, I needed to think and it’s hard to do that when your arms are distracting you in discomfort. I got out of the bed and launched myself at the wall, at just the right angle to smash my shoulder into it, the room was padded so the impact didn’t hurt; it was more the loud and clearly audible popping that made me wince and the pain as I dislocated my shoulder. My heart was pounding like a drum in my ears as I used the crook of my other arm to push it around the back of the jacket and then thrust against the wall again to push it back into place, only now my arm was in the right position in which I could grab at the clasp that fastened the jacket. It slid open and my arms were freed, I winced as my misplaced arm slid down and popped back out of its socket, I held it gently as I wriggled out of the top and kicked it away from me, breathing deeply, trying to even out the pain so it was bearable. I looked up into the corner of the room that I couldn’t see clearly in the low light but where I knew there was a camera watching me. “Can I get some normal clothes in here?” It was cold and I had only been wearing a tank top under the strait jacket, I suppose it was better than being completely naked. “Okay no time for procrastination.” I thought to myself and holding my arm steady I pushed up and in at the same time, the resulting crack was awful and I could taste bile in my mouth, but at least I could move both my arms now rather than just the one. The door started to open and I could see a familiar face through the tinted glass. “John,” I acknowledged solemnly, knowing all the while that if there was even the slightest sign that I was going to flip out again I would go back in the jacket, and I didn’t have the patience when I was angry to do all that again. Instead I decided to sit down on the hospital bed and wait. John came to me and kneeled on the floor in front of me, he looked up into my eyes and reached out for my hand, I let him take it and take my pulse. “You gave us a fright there,” he said after one of the longest minutes of my life.
“Is Sherlock alright?” I asked, I was worried that it had been him that I had turned on and I hoped to god I hadn’t finished what I had set out to do.
“He’s alright, the doctors on this ward thought it might not be a bad idea to keep him away from you while you are um…” he was trying to be nice about it, people always felt the need to do this. “John, I know what I did so yes I agree with the doctors, but you have to understand that this is what I am, it’s happened before and its likely to happen again, as Sherlock’s doctor and as a friend maybe it would be best for you to make the decision whether I move out or not,”
“Why would I want you to move out, or Sherlock for that matter?” He seemed to be genuine in his question, it made me pause a second.
“I thought that would be what you two wanted, so that Sherl -”
“Evan neither of us want to get rid of you we decided that the night you moved in.”
“How could you have decided anything that early-”He cut me off again.
“Sherlock thought that something might happen and in that eventuality we would most likely be the most endangered, but we agree that you are too important to the investigation, and a good person.” He finished finally and patted my hand tenderly.
“And you decided this the night you met me.”
“Sherlock is a good judge of character.” He looked down at the clothes he had put beside me and then stood, “You should put them on, you’re covered in Goosebumps.” Smiling he moved to the door and opened it. “I’ll go get your discharge papers sorted.”
I pulled the clothes and slid on the jumper, and put my hair into a bun with the hair tie that was in the pocket, they were my clothes, but not the ones I had been wearing at the house when the bomb had gone off, I wanted my coat back, along with all the things that I had hidden in the pockets. There was a knocking at the door, “You can come in.” I said, not really expecting that kind of courtesy from the doctors. “I thought I would come pay my respects before you move back to where you came from.” The smug voice was unmistakable, and it wasn’t helping my anger issues. “You better get out Mycroft; I wouldn't want anything to happen to you.” I turned to face him and smiled sickly, feeling that I got my message across fairly well, he looked slightly disgusted. “And what makes you think I will be moving back with my father?”
“Well surely you aren’t going to be allowed to stay here?”
“Why ever not?” I asked raising an eyebrow. He smirked.
“If I was my brother-”
“It would be a great improvement, and you underestimate him, he’s a better person than you think.” I butted in rudely; I didn’t have to be polite to him so why should I try?
“You realise that I could have you arrested?” He said suddenly after a short silence. I flared my nostrils and stepped in closer, holding his gaze. “Is that a threat Mycroft?” I asked, daring him to answer with my eyes.
“If you wish to take it that way.” He turned and I scoffed.
“You’re a coward Mycroft, and your brother is twice the man you are, he actually gives a damn about people, even though he has half the social skills that you do.”
He blinked and I saw him smile as he turned back to face me at the door. “I think you like him,” he began and his ugly little face all of a sudden became a lot more like a very good target.
“I thought you would have figured out that his tastes are, more inclined to the other gender.” I was not going to punch him and I wasn’t going to let him get to me, I didn’t like Sherlock that way. “Just get the fuck out before I get both of us stuck in here for a month.” He just smiled and left the room. I frowned and sat on the bed. I didn’t have feelings like that for Sherlock, as Mycroft had put it- he was more inclined to men, and as a matter of fact I was interested in women more than men as it stood, so that I had feelings for him was illogical and unlikely. That on top of the fact I was a psychopath, which was just a latent term for antisocial personality disorder, meaning that I had never made that sort of connection with anyone and that I probably would never form any human attachment.
There was another knock on the door and I sighed, hoping for his sake that Mycroft hadn’t come back but it was just John and my discharge forms, which he held out to me, “We’re all good to go, Sherlock’s outside waiting for us outside so let’s get you and him home.” He turned and held the door open then seemed to remember something because he reached into his coat and pulled out a small bundle “I thought you would want this back.” I thanked him and he led me out of the hospital to find Sherlock outside hailing down a cab.
YOU ARE READING
Sherlock Holmes- Meet me on Waterloo (A Sherlock Holmes Fan Fiction)
Fanfiction.... in a world where light is so often ignored it often means everything, after all what would life be without light. We would after all be blind.
