Orphan on Baker Street

Fourth: Wheelchair

Mrs. Hudson, John, Mary and the baby, and I arrive at the hospital.

"I'm fine," Sherlock shouts at John. "So, if you all would excuse me. I have a killer to catch." He glares around at all of us.

"Not when there are children," Mary protests, "It wouldn't harm anything if you would help out with the baby every now and again instead of running off after crazy hunches. Just leave it to the police."

Sherlock glares especially long at Mary, like he's hoping the killer would shoot her.

"Mickey can help take care of the baby," he says before taking the tape off of the IV.

"I'm not here to babysit," I say with a scowl as John slaps the tape back over Sherlock's IV. "And I'm not here for you to exploit."

"Look at the big girl using big words," Sherlock says mockingly, studying my face.

"Yeah," John speaks up, "I don't think Mickey should have to take care of my baby when I'm well enough to take care of it myself."

"Take care of it yourself, then," Sherlock says bitterly. "I didn't need you anyway."

As soon as he says that, I start at his neck (figuratively, of course). "If he wasn't needed, he wouldn't be here," I spit at Sherlock. There's a small moment of silence.

"Maybe Mickey could help you, Sherlock," Mrs. Hudson says from behind me. I turn and see her give Sherlock an encouraging smile. "She's clever and surely wouldn't get in your way."

"I don't need help," Sherlock says to her, sounding offended.

"But she could protect you! She's quick on her f-"

"I don't need protection," Sherlock says, his voice raising. The baby in Mary's arms lets out an uncomfortable noise.

"Yes, you do," Mrs. Hudson says firmly before storming out of the room. An awkward silence falls on us like a fog. Why is he so stubborn?

"I'll go check on her," Mary mutters before walking out the door. John follows right after her, saying nothing.

I watch them to make sure they're actually gone. Then I turn back to Sherlock. We stare at each other for a moment.

"Why did you act like that in front of John?" I ask softly. "Being able to admit things is part of life, you know."

"Of course I know," he says defensively before looking down at his feet. "It's not a part of my life, though." He lets out a sigh before quickly sliding the IV needle from his wrist. I roll my eyes. Sherlock stands up quickly, but then he falls. As soon as he falls, I'm around the side of the bed and helping him to his feet. I manage to lift him up onto the bed, and I can see he's baring his teeth so he won't cry out in pain.

Angrily, Sherlock tosses the blankets back over his legs.

"Maybe independent people do need help sometimes," he admits, glancing to me. "But that's dumb. And dumb isn't me." Sherlock crosses his arms and glares across the room.

The door bursts open behind me, and I take a step back. A nurse had come in due to the flat line.

"I'm fine," Sherlock says moodily, waving a hand at her. John runs in behind her, looking panicked. "I tried to escape," he says honestly. "Do you mind getting me a wheelchair, nurse?"

"No," John says loudly before the nurse has the chance to. "You need to stay put. You need to rest."

"John, you know I don't rest," he yells back at him. "Just get me a wheelchair. Is it so much to ask?"

"Yes, actually," John says. All the while, I slowly inch my way around the room to the door. "Your legs need time to heal before you do anything."

Sherlock lets out a loud, disagreeing moan as I slip out of the doorway. Luckily, Mary and Mrs. Hudson aren't out here.

"Excuse me," I say to a passing nurse. "Do you know where I can find the wheelchairs?"

"Yes; just back there," he says, pointing a pen in the direction he came from. I give him a kind grin.

"Thank you," I reply, walking happily where he told me to go.