Sherlock couldn't manage to get his feet under him, so John and a faceless officer carried him like a cumbersome box. He actually didn't mind. John was very careful and gentle lifting him under the shoulders and the other man had a light grip on his legs.
The journey to the car John said was waiting took far too long. In fact, the building they were in had abnormally long and narrow hallways.
THUMP
Sherlock jumped at the unexpected sound. "What was that?" he asked.
John didn't respond.
Sherlock tried to take deeper breaths, knowing that the hallucinations were still going to occur, but less and less like the ripples in a pond. He wanted nothing more than to be outside in open space with fresh air, sounds, sights, smells, everything.
THUMP
The robe was wet. Sherlock swallowed compulsively. The robe should have been a little damp from drying him off, but it was sopping with water. He shivered in apprehension.
"John?"
THUMP
John dropped him. Sherlock's arms had gotten tangled in the sleeves of the robe and he couldn't reach out to catch himself before he slammed into the ground. Only he didn't slam into the ground. He stayed up in the air, suspended like in some kind of…
THUMP THUMP
…watery gelatin. The world flickered out of existence and everything was dark once more. All the restraints from before were back in place and he was naked again, sightless and powerless in the isolation tank. That had been a particularly vivid hallucination.
Sherlock felt new moisture running down his cheeks. He told himself it was from bobbing his head back into the water when he "fell" in the hallucination.
He was fine.