Sherlock stirred feebly in the dim light. As he opened his eyes, he noticed that he was wrapped in blankets, sitting on his couch, of course, with a damp cloth across his forehead. The blinds were drawn, though he could clearly see a few specks of stars in the cracks, and the whole room was cloaked in darkness, save for their antique lamp, which shined on an exhausted-looking John who was sitting in his chair, thumbing through an old book. Sherlock tried to speak, but his mouth was quite dry. Another attempt to move brought on a fierce ache in every muscle, as well as a deep shiver. John, taking notice, stood and spoke quietly:
"Sit tight, I'll go get you some water." He made off for the kitchen.
Sherlock did as he was told, while his groggy mind produced no more than seven possibilities as to what could have happened the night before that would put him in such an awful state. Soon enough, John returned with a glass of water and a few pieces of toast.
"I'd say you brought this upon yourself, but it really is for the best."
Then Sherlock remembered- the terrible night of withdrawls, the crippling fever, and, especially, the heated arguments between him and John over anything and everything.
"You've been awake all night." he noticed.
"More like all day. You've been asleep for 16 hours. How are you holding up?" John was serious now, his medical training taking precedence over the common quips with his odd roomate.
"I'm holding. This isn't my brightest moment, give me a moment to collect myself." He was about to say more, but a sharp ring from his cell phone cut him off. He could see it glowing on the kitchen counter, and was filled with a mixture of excitement and dread at who would be calling at this hour of night.
"It's Lestrade" John announced, retrieving it from the kitchen.
"Ugh-you can ignore it, considering my present condition. Knowing him, he's probably lost his car keys. Good God, what could he possibly want?" he exclaimed as he stared down at the tiny digital screen which his eyes were so familiarized with. There were 9 missed calls, all within the last 24 hours.
"I told him you weren't available the first time, but he didn't seem to take the hint." John added, smirking.
"The police so rarely do. Help me find my jacket, John, we;d better go and see what the fool wants. And John."
The army doctor looked up from the door where he had been waiting for his friend.
"Thank you. For last night."
John Watson merely smiled in return, as was his nature, and waved Sherlock Holmes through the door as they began their next adventure.