A/N: Due to boredom and a very polite request I decided that a second chapter was needed for this story, so here you are.
The first thing Sherlock noticed when he awoke some time later was the pain. His entire body throbbed with pain.
The next thing he noticed was that he wasn't in 221B Baker Street. The smell was different, it smelled of disinfectant, and the light was too harsh. After allowing himself a few moments to think about things, Sherlock came to the conclusion that he was in fact in hospital. Slowly he opened his eyes and heard a faint rustling to his right. He turned his head slightly to find the source of the noise, and was pleasantly surprised to see John sat asleep in the chair next to him.
"John," he croaked, his throat felt as though it were full of sand, "John."
His flatmate's eyes flew open and focused on Sherlock, "Sherlock, hey. How are you feeling?" he asked quietly, stretching in the chair.
"Awful." Sherlock stated, "What about you?"
"I'm fine; I got away lightly compared to you. What the hell were you thinking, Sherlock?"
Sherlock sighed and turned away, "I wasn't." He glanced at his friend, "I wasn't thinking at all." There were tears, real tears forming in Sherlock's eyes.
John smiled and patted his arm gently, "As long as you're safe, I don't really care what you were thinking," he said.
Sherlock gave a weak smile, but it soon faded when he remembered, "Moriarty got away." It wasn't a question, it was a fact.
John nodded, "Yeah, he did. The police will find him though Sherlock, you just have to trust them."
Sherlock laughed, a short, sharp humourless laugh, "No they won't, not until he wants them to."
"I was trying to cheer you up, idiot," John sighed, he shook his head, "I won't bother next time."
Sherlock frowned, how was that comment supposed to cheer him up? Human behaviour was so ridiculous.
They sat in silence for a while, John watching his friend intently, and Sherlock staring at the wall in front of him. Eventually Sherlock got bored, and threw the sheet off him in an attempt to get up; it was then that he noticed the handcuff. "John," he asked calmly, "Why am I handcuffed to this bed?"
John smiled, "It was Mycroft's idea, he didn't want you running off to catch Moriarty."
Sherlock turned and glowered at John, who kept that goofy smile plastered on his face, "You're enjoying this aren't you?" he asked.
"No…" John's smile widened to a grin, "Well, maybe only a little bit."
Sherlock huffed and turned back to staring at the wall, but something caught his eye above John's head, out in the corridor, "John, I'm hungry." Sherlock said, keeping his tone smooth.
John frowned, "Do you want me to get you a sandwich or something?"
"Yes… please."
John raised an eyebrow but said nothing; he picked up his wallet and wandered away down the corridor. Probably to the nearby canteen.
Sherlock watched silently as the doctor in the lab coat walked in and read his clipboard, "And how are we feeling today Sherlock?"
"What are you doing here, Moriarty?" Sherlock asked, fighting to keep his voice calm.
"I just wanted to see how you were, Sherlock. I'm nice like that." Moriarty smiled, he walked to the right side of Sherlock's bed and closed the blind, "A bit more private, and much nicer," he drawled. Sherlock watched him, his jaw clamped shut. "Now then Sherlock," Moriarty said as he sat in John's seat, "What am I going to do with you?"
Sherlock grit his teeth and clenched his fist, he wasn't going to give this… psychopath the pleasure of seeing him in pain.
"Come along now Sherlock, surely you have something you want to say to me?" Moriarty goaded.
Sherlock took a deep breath and said, "Not really, I fear too much contact with you might lower my IQ." It was a cheap and inaccurate shot, but Sherlock really wasn't in the mood.
Moriarty sniffed, "Really Sherlock, I would have thought you were past childish taunts by now."
"Sorry, I just don't feel like being civil right now," Sherlock snarled.
Moriarty sighed and looked around the room, his focus zeroed in on the handcuff keeping Sherlock in bed, his eyes lit up. "Well, well, Sherlock. This is interesting," he smiled wickedly.
Sherlock kept his gaze level and cool, staring at this murderer silently, willing John to stay away until he'd gone. "What do you want Moriarty?" he asked calmly.
"You know exactly what I want, Sherlock." Moriarty whispered in Sherlock's ear, tugging a dark curl of his hair out of the way with a little too much force. Sherlock shuddered making Moriarty laugh, "I'm not that bad, Sherlock. Surely you know that." He pressed a hand against Sherlock's cheek, forcing him to look at him.
There was a click as the door was opened, and both men snapped their heads around to look at the intruder. John entered holding a sandwich up for Sherlock to see, "I got you a-"
He stopped dead at the sight of Moriarty holding his friend's cheek, and the horrified look on Sherlock's face. For a moment no-one spoke.
It was Moriarty who finally broke the uneasy silence, "Ah, John. How nice of you to join us, come in."
John swept across the room and punched the cocky little man square in the face, "Get your filthy hands off him!" he snarled, looming over the chair. His fist was clenched, ready to strike as soon as Moriarty made a move.
Moriarty chuckled, "I've said it before Sherlock, and I'll say it again, you have a very loyal pet. But you should teach it some manners really."
Sherlock pushed himself into a sitting position, "Get the hell out of here, Moriarty," he growled, "I don't want to see you again."
Moriarty pulled himself up slowly, well aware of how tense John was, "Wrong," he sang, "Of course you want to see me again, and you will. Don't you fret," he moved to pat Sherlock's cheek, but was stopped by both John and Sherlock's arms, "you'll be seeing me again boys."
The pair watched as Moriarty dusted off his lab coat and waltzed out of the room; John ran outside after him and spoke hurriedly to the nurse at the desk. They spoke for a while before John came back into the room, "Sherlock?" he asked cautiously.
Sherlock said nothing, but stared at the wall in front of him.
"Sherlock, speak to me." John ordered.
Sherlock's eyes flashed with… pride? Pain? Panic? John couldn't tell. But then Sherlock let out something that was half sob, half laugh. John was at his side immediately.
"I can't believe you just punched Moriarty!" Sherlock muttered, a smile forming on his pale face.
"To be honest, neither can I," John laughed, sitting down in his chair again. The pair looked at each other for a moment, a gloriously sweet moment, before both burst into fits of giggles.
That is, until Sherlock realised laughing hurt, and hissed, grasping his side. John stopped laughing too and checked Sherlock over; making sure the wounds hadn't reopened.
It was at this moment that a man in a lab coat wandered past, glancing in on the duo as he left the hospital. He watched enviously as Sherlock smiled at the lighter haired man, and instantly a dark and sinister plan was forming in his wonderful mind.
A/N: So there you have it. An ending that is happy… I'm so glad I took the time to change it. The ending before was a lot darker. Please review, it makes me happy. Meaning less dark endings.