Aftermath

14~Sherlock's POV

I'm not dying. I'm not seizing, either. 

So why is everyone freaking out?

I try to open my eyes. I can't.

I try to speak. I can't.

I can hear, though.

"Sherlock? Sherlock, can you hear me?" It's John. I love John. I need to tell him I'm alright. 

But I can't get my brain to work, to make my mouth form the words.

I feel someone grab my hand, and know it's John.

I'm flat on my back. They moved me. But why? 

I feel someone open my mouth. Then something's in my mouth. Then a tube.

Dear God, I just got rid of the tube down my throat. 

But I understand. It's getting hard to breathe, and now, I'm breathing again.

I focus on listening, trying to hear John. 

"A coma? As in he may not wake up?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Why? How? He was fine and then he was..." John's voice trails off. "You gave him morphine!" John's yelling now.

"What?" Dr. McGhee sounds confused. That's not a good sign. I hear him walk towards my head. There's the sound of my IV bags being moved around. "Dear God... Dr. Watson, I swear I did not order morphine. I hadn't even ordered anything yet!"

"Well thanks to you, my... my uh... Sherlock might never wake up!"

"Dr. Watson, I swear, I will find who did this."

"Just leave." I hear Dr.McGhee's steps retreat.

"Sherlock Holmes, I love you. I had to watch you die, and live with that for three years. Then, yesterday, I made you overdose. You've coded three times in the past twenty-four hours, and had a seizure. Now you're in a coma. I know you can beat this. Wake up, Sherlock. Wake up, for me." 

I feel something wet fall on my hand and I know John is crying. I try to open my eyes to tell him it's okay, but I can't. I can't move. I decide to just lay there, and to try to move my fingers. I focus all my energy on my on my thumb, trying to get it to move, but I can't. I'm exhausted, so I decide to sleep.

But I can't turn my brain off.

Not that I've ever wanted to. But I can't do it now.

I decide to keep trying to get my thumb to move. It won't. Am I paralyzed?

No. I'm in a coma. John said so. John wouldn't lie to me. All I have to do is move my thumb.

I'm getting frustrated. It's just one, small little finger. But it won't move!

If I could use my voice, I would groan. I hear a small sound. It was like a groan, or maybe a moan.

Did it come from me? 

No, it's John. He's crying quite loudly. I hear footsteps walk in. I hope it's not the idiot who nearly killed me...

"John?"I feel John shift in his seat. That voice... but he...

"Mycroft? What are you doing here?" Yes, it was Mycroft. But why? He wasn't here at all today.

"I wanted to check on my brother."

"Well, he's in a coma." Mycroft gasps. That's a sign of shock. That means he didn't know.

"Because of the morphine?"

"Not his morphine."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he had a seizure, and the doctor said he was going to hook him up to some painkillers for the headache hat it left. The nurse walked in, hook something up to him, then walked out. A few minutes later, he started slurring his speech, and then he passed out. Turns out he's in a coma because the nurse gave him more morphine."

"So, the hospital is responsible?"

"Yes, at least for the coma, because I didn't do it and neither did he."

"I'll find out who did this." Mycroft begins to walk out, but John stops him.

"Mycroft, wait. I have something to tell you, although when Sherlock wakes up he'll probably want to tell you himself." What is John talking about? Wait. No, John! Stop!

"What is it?"

"Mycroft, your brother is... well, he's..." He takes a deep breath. "He's gay." All I can hear is silence. John takes that as a cue to continue, although I wish he wouldn't. "And so am I. And we're in a relationship. I think." John's confused too! We really should talk about what we are. I need to get him to stop talking....

But how?