The tall, skinny man in the enormous black overcoat blinked and almost forgot how to open his eyes again. Leaning heavily on the railing trailing the way up the stairs to 221B on Baker Street, Sherlock Holmes followed his best friend and his best friend's murderous wife to his flat.

He didn't want to admit to John that he was feeling worse than he had when he left the hospital. This conversation needed to happen, for both John and Mary's sake. And so he kept quiet as the silent pangs of pain in his chest threatened to incapacitate him.

Once he got to the doorway he gripped it tightly, worried slightly that he might fall over.

"Oh, Sherlock, oh goodness gracious. You look terrible!" Whispered Mrs. Hudson as she rounded the corner from the kitchen and saw her wounded tenant.

"Get me some morphine from your kitchen, I've run out." Sherlock said rather pointedly. His pain was trying his patience.

"I don't have any morphine!" Mrs. Hudson replied defensively.

Sherlock winced as another especially sharp pain ran up and down his chest. He closed his eyes for a moment and couldn't help it as his pain fueled his anger and he shouted, "Then what EXACTLY is the POINT of you!?"

Mrs. Hudson's exasperated response was lost to him as Sherlock tried to hide another wave of agony and instead tried to focus on what John was saying.

Sherlock tried his best to convince his friend that Mary at least warranted a client meeting. He had promised to help her and, even if he had to stand in this room with a bullet hole in his chest, no morphine and an increasingly alarming heart rate, he would make John understand.

"Fine, we'll do it your way," the doctor consented, still seething with anger and unable to keep the tone of betrayal from his voice. John pulled a chair to the middle of the room and took his seat.

Sherlock moved slowly, painfully, to his own chair and sat down slowly, putting a hand to his side, unable to mask the pang as his skin stretched when he sat down.

Sherlock noticed John eyeing him with worry, but just as soon as he had glimpsed at Sherlock, John's eyes again clouded in anger and he stared down his wife.

Sherlock waited for the conversation to begin, hoping, silently, that it would be over sooner rather than later.

Stay tuned for Ch. 2 coming soon! Thank you so much for reading.