Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, nor the characters.
This is my first Sherlock fanfic. I appreciate comments/reviews/suggestions/any thing else you can throw at me. Enjoy!
The first time he woke, he was on hard concrete. The adrenaline still coursing through his body diminished the pain a lot, but not enough. He cried out in pain and someone grabbed his hand- the one that wasn't broken. "Sherlock, SHERLOCK" the voice repeated, "It's me, Mycroft. I'm here and the ambulance is on its way. Please answer me, can you hear me?"
Sherlock managed to nod, but stopped when it aggravated the gash on his head.
"Don't move. You're in pretty bad shape."
"Thanks for that," he retorted sarcastically. "I suppose you've also deduced that my head is bleeding. Idiot."
Mycroft inhaled deeply. "Even when you're crumpled on the floor, you're an arse. Yes, your head is bleeding. I know you have a concussion by the size of your pupils. You have three, maybe four cracked ribs and one or two completely broken. Here, let me check," he pressed down on Sherlock's side lightly and he yelled out in pain. "Four cracked, two broken," he corrected. "Along with that, by the way your back is arched I deduced that your back is sprained in two locations- quite badly, I might add. Oh and you have a broken femur."
"That's more like it," approved the injured boy, "How do you know about my leg? I can't feel it."
"I see the bone. I told you that you were in pretty bad shape. I was understating it. That's something normal people do to lighten the tension. By the way, what the hell were you doing?"
"I know you know. You follow me everywhere. Why can't you leave me alone?" Sherlock whined.
"You're welcome for saving your life," snapped Mycroft. "Now's not the time to complain. I hear the ambulance."
Mycroft helped Sherlock up into a somewhat sitting position. With the extra pressure on his ribs, Sherlock let out a gasp of pain and fainted.
The second time he woke, his mind was hazy with all of the drugs in his system. He saw blurs of people and realized he was being wheeled down a long, white hallway. He tried to sit up but something- or someone, actually- was pinning him down by the shoulders. That simple exertion was enough to make him pass out again.
The third time he woke, the first thing he noticed was the smell of too much antiseptic. He was in a hospital. Knowing his family, they would have taken him out of a public area as soon as possible, so it must have been bad. There was a constant, steady beeping of a few monitors nearby (plus multiple others farther away), as well as the shuffling of both people in chairs and people in hospital beds. He deduced that he was in the ICU, because of the multitude of people. That was when he decided to open his eyes.
The first thing he saw was Mycroft. He had a hint of facial hair, so they must have been there for at least a day, maybe two. Mycroft was immediately at his side. "Sherlock, everything's OK. You're alright."
"Obviously. I'm alive," he replied with a scratchy throat. He fidgeted to get into a better position, but the movements made him wince.
"Careful!" Mycroft scolded. "I'm calling the doctor."
"Mycroft, no!" Sherlock pleaded. "I don't need any more drugs. They're an annoyance."
"That's funny, considering how drugs are exactly what got you into this position. I thought you would be happy."
Sherlock sighed. "These drugs cloud my thinking. The drugs I was going to buy were brain stimulants. Don't call the doctor."
He pressed the call button. "Too late," Mycroft smirked.
The doctor came in and without any questions, began to prepare a needle. From what Sherlock could tell, the wad of dollar bills in the doctor's pocket was a gift from Mycroft. That being said, the doctor was to ensure their stay was more… "comfortable."
He tried to wiggle his arms around, to make it difficult, but Mycroft grabbed them and he was soon unconscious once more.
Meanwhile, the rest of the ICU inhabitants- or the few that were awake, for that matter- were watching the scene with curiosity. One man stood out to Mycroft. The man, military from what Mycroft could deduce, was staring at them questioningly. Drugging his brother without hesitance seemed to spark something more in him. Mycroft stood up and pulled the thin curtain around him and his brother, giving them as much privacy as possible.
The military doctor didn't think much of it after the curtain was closed. Besides, Dr. Watson had other matters to attend. His sister, Harry, was at the moment only semi-conscious. She was suffering from an extremely high fever. No one knew the cause. The doctors were cooling her down with ice packs and so far she was making progress, but the fever was bound to return. Only time would tell.