I Am Sher-Locked Up

Discharge

Sherlock

Today is the day.

Sherlock looked at his possessions neatly organized on his now-stripped twin sized hospital bed. 

Today is the day.

He fingers his plastic hospital bracelet, warped and stretched from constant fiddling. He sure would be glad to cut that son of a bitch off.

Today.

"Sherlock, mate," Lawrence sticks his head into Sherlock's room--well, not his room anymore. "Time to go. Dr. Kincannon needs to evaluate you."

Sherlock nods, not fully listening.

It has been three months. Three months of hell. Three months and three days of boredom, therapy, and emotionally exhausting exercises. 

"Sherlock. Come on, let's go." Lawrence repeats himself, shaking his patients slightly less bony shoulders.

Sherlcok snaps out of it and nods again. "Okay. I'm ready." 

Damn, was that an understatement. He had been ready to go since the moment he stepped foot in the ER. 

Once in Dr. Kincannon's office, he adopted an emotionless façade and a monotone voice, a sharp contrast to the doctor's cheerful demeanor.

"So, Mr. Holmes. Today is the day, isn't it? You finally get to go home! Let's get this evaluation out of the way so you can see John again."

Sherlcok nods, uneasy about the last part of her statement. What would life be like now that his feelings for John were no longer repressed?

"So, standard questions: do you want to hurt yourself?"

"No." Sherlock lied.

"Hurt anyone else?"

Sherlock shakes his head truthfully.

"Do you feel like killing yourself? Killing anyone else?"

"No, and no." Sherlock drones, becoming annoyed at the questions he has been asked ever since he was four years old.

"All right, now to the fun part!" The doctor chirps, annoying Sherlock even further.

"Do you feel this place has helped you, and why?"

Sherlock considers. He has put on weight (he doesn't like to think about that too much, however), and his wounds have healed into thick pink bands crisscrossing his arms, and he currently doesn't want to kill himself. 

"I think that it hasn't been as useless as I have previously imagined," Sherlock says haltingly, hating to admit he was wrong.

Dr. Kincannon laughs, "Well that's a start! Okay, do you intend to keep the recovery plan and the relapse prevention program?" 

Sherlock considers again. Did he? He had said this so many times, and broken it each time. What would it matter if he cut again? Or stopped eating? No one would care, there was no one he--

Oh. Right. John. John would care. 

Sherlock sighs grudgingly and says, "I do. This time, I mean it."

Dr. Kincannon eyes him suspiciously before asking, "And what is different this time? Why should I believe you're going to even try to recover?"

Sherlcok hesitates beforehand answering truthfully, "John. John is why. I'm not elaborating further."

The doctor nods, convinced. "That I can believe. May I ask why?"

Sherlock narrows his eyes. "I don't believe that is part of the discharge evaluation, am I correct?"