Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock.

Hello everyone! HOLY COW. The response I got to this story was phenomenal. Thank you all so much for your support, interest, and encouragement. I cannot tell you what it means to me. You're lucky I needed a way to distract myself from nerves tonight … hence Chapter 2 before the weekend! Enjoy =)

"Can you make this work any faster?" Sherlock complained, still writhing in pain. He was glancing down with distaste at the IV needle in his arm. He hated anything to do with hospitals and their wonder drugs but at this point, he was in so much pain that he didn't care how he got relief.

No one seemed to be paying him any attention which, as the patient, Sherlock thought was awfully incompetent of the medical staff. Sherlock turned to John, eyes pleading silently.

John looked at the label on the bag and at the IV settings. He adjusted them slightly as they were on the low side.

"Just a few minutes and it'll start to dull down," John said. He turned to a cart and found a blue surgical towel, dampening it in the small sink. He came back to Sherlock and leaned on the rails – some idiotic nurse had snapped them up, effectively making Sherlock feel like he was in a crib – to wipe away the fresh sweat beads.

"What are you doing, Dr. Watson?" the doctor, who's coat read Dr. Coleman, asked.

"Taking care of him." John said simply, quite tempted to add that one of them had to pay attention to the patient. He, too, had noticed how no one answered any of Sherlock's questions.

"If you care to have a discussion with me about Mr. Holmes' treatment, I suggest you join me in the hall."

John got the distinct impression that Dr. Coleman thought a simple gesture like wiping away sweat wasn't worthy of his medical attention.

"Can't you stay in here and discuss?" Sherlock mumbled as John arranged the compress on his forehead. Sherlock swiped it off as soon as John's hand had retracted.

"It's policy," John said, following the doctor to the door. "We'll be right back."

John followed the doctor into the hall and closed the door.

"I have to admit," the doctor said with a bit of hostility in his voice. "That I've never been told to share my patient with another doctor who doesn't work here."

"I fail to see how that affects Sherlock's treatment options," John said.

The doctor glared at John before handing him the medical file. John glanced through it. It didn't list much at the moment, just Sherlock's vitals.

"This tells me nothing." John said, closing the folder. "What tests are you going to run? Urine analysis? Blood samples? X-ray? Ultrasound? CT scan?"

The doctor did not look pleased with John but he didn't care. That was his best friend in there.

"We'll collect a urine sample and some vials of blood to be sent to the lab, as well as do an abdominal x-ray. If it doesn't show anything, we'll run a CT scan. Happy?"

"Yes." John said, handing the medical file back to the doctor. "I'll collect the blood and urine."

John turned to open the door.

"I think I should do it." the doctor stated and John turned around. John knew Sherlock would never, in a million years, let this doctor touch him again. Not after the impromptu physical exam that had clearly made him uncomfortable. But John could sense this doctor would not back down so he opened the door for him.

"Be my guest." he said, following the doctor into the room.

"How are you feeling now, Mr. Holmes?"

The pain had subsided – probably because Sherlock had adjusted the drip rate a bit more – and Sherlock was now squirmy uncomfortably. These beds were impossibly hard and he hated having the side rails up.

"Fine."

Standard answer. John didn't say anything … Dr. Superstar could deal with getting the truth. John stood back with a smug look already painted on his face.

"Glad to hear it," the doctor said distractedly as he arranged vials on the small counter before pulling on gloves and reaching for a needle and elastic band. He came to the side of the bed.

"We're going to draw some blood for tests to get to the bottom of this. If you'll just extend your - "

"No." Sherlock said, cutting him off. Dr. Coleman looked up, surprised.

"I'm sorry?"

"No. I don't want you touching me." Sherlock said. "I want John to do any procedures that involving touching me."

"Mr. Holmes, I assure you that I'm perfectly qualified if that's what you're worried about. I've been doing this for four years now."

"It wasn't." Sherlock said dryly. "I do not give you permission to touch me, doctor, so I suggest you step away from the bed. John?"

John stepped up, pulling gloves from the box on the counter. He took the needle and band from a furious looking Dr. Coleman.

"We need six vials; the labels are on the counter." Dr. Coleman's voice was as cold as ice. "As is the urine bottle. Bring them to the nurses' station when you're through."

With that, he stripped off his gloves and left. The nurses in the room exchanged a look; they had never seen Dr. Coleman so angry.

Sherlock gave John a thin smile as he held up his arm and John tied the band around it, enlarging the veins. Cleaning the area with alcohol, John felt around until he found a good vein and slid the needle in. He started filling vials, glancing at Sherlock when he was on vial three.

"Are you okay?" John asked. Sherlock's face had gone a bit paler.

"Yes." Sherlock swallowed and closed his eyes.

"Six vials is a lot of blood. Just take some deep breathes, okay?" John turned to the nurse as he switched out the vials.

"Can you get him some ice?"

The nurse nodded and took some ice packs, putting one on either side of Sherlock's neck before finding a cold cloth for his head.

"Just one more, Sherlock," John said, switching out the last vial. It filled quickly and John, holding gauze over the puncture site, slid the needle out. He kept pressure on it, looking at Sherlock.

"Sherlock, are you with me?"

Sherlock opened his eyes.

"Yes."

"Just take a few deep breaths." John repeated. "We'll find you some juice and you'll feel better in a few minutes. It's alright, it's normal to feel dizzy and nauseous when this much blood is taken."

"I'm not normal." Sherlock muttered, trying to will away the urge he had to throw up. That would just be miserable. John checked the puncture site and taped the gauze in place. One of the nurses had gotten a bottle of juice and John cracked it open before sliding his hand under Sherlock's head to help him take a few sips.

"Does that help?" John asked and Sherlock nodded.

"Good. Just take it easy for a few minutes."

For the next five minutes, Sherlock laid there, sipping at the juice, and John labelled the vials, glancing at the checklist of tests the doctor wanted to run. John checked a few more boxes before putting the vials in the blood rack, ready to be taken to the nurses' station. But before he could deliver the samples, he had another one to collect.

"Sherlock?" John asked and Sherlock's eyes sprang open.

"Feel better?"

"I'm fine." Sherlock said and John knew he was back to … well, back to what he had been before the blood being taken.

"We need a urine sample." John said, holding out the large urine container for Sherlock to use. Sherlock's face took on a horrified expression before his eyes shifted back to John.

"You seriously can't expect me to go to the bathroom in bed using that."

"You don't have much of a choice, I'm afraid." John said.

"I can refuse."

"Sherlock," John said warningly. "We need a urine sample for tests to diagnose whatever's going on."

"Fine." Sherlock said relented. After all, he wanted answers as much as the doctors did. "But I'm not using that thing."

John raised his eyebrow.

"Then how are you going to do it?"

"In a washroom, by myself." Sherlock said, sitting up. "Get these things down."

John obliged by lowering the one side rail and Sherlock swung his feet to the floor. Standing hurt a bit more but he gripped the IV pole and pulled himself to his feet, one hand holding the back of his gown closed.

John eyed him nervously, hoping Sherlock didn't pass out on his watch. Dr. Coleman would gloat mercilessly. But Sherlock seemed determined so John found a smaller sample container and asked for directions to the nearest washroom. The nurse pointed the way and John and Sherlock left the treatment room to the wheelchair-accessible bathroom.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" John asked, holding out the cup. Sherlock nodded.

"Of course I'll be okay."

With that, Sherlock took the cup in his hand – it was bit difficult holding the infernal gown closed, grip the IV pole, and hold the sample container but he did it – and locked himself into the bathroom. John waited outside, ignoring the glances he and Sherlock had earned from the other staff.

A few minutes later Sherlock emerged with the sample, handing it to John, who took it gingerly.

"Good." he said. "Back to the exam room, then."

Sherlock was about to protest but John spoke before he could.

"We can go exploring later." he said firmly. "Back to the exam room."

Sherlock almost pouted and walked with John back to the exam room. He sat on the bed while John labelled the urine container and asked one of the nurses to take the samples to the nurses' station.

"Now what?" Sherlock asked, somewhat impatiently. Now that he had drugs and he didn't feel as much pain, he wanted to go home. He hated hospitals.

John sat on the doctor's stool and crossed his arms.

"Now we wait."

I'm not going to tell you if anyone's guessed right or not so … you'll just have to come back =)

Reviews are much appreciated! Thank you!

Oh! A bit of self-promotion here: I recently started a long series of stories about John and Mary's life together and I just want to reinforce that even if you're not a Mary fan, she is not a prominent character. Yes, she's there but the primary focus is on John and Sherlock's friendship … especially after a few chapters go by. I think it's worth the read just to see if you can live with a Mary story. The story is called Circle of Life and I'm unbelievably excited about it and I would love to have some feedback. Thank you!