Sherlock was glad to see him.
"John, you must take me home. This is so exceedingly dull," he whined.
John scoffed. "Ah, nope. You're staying here until we get the results of the tests back, and possibly longer. This isn't something that will just go away."
"I can't. I'm busy," he insisted. "I've got that experiment on with the fish."
John narrowed his eyes at him. "Seriously? You are too busy to prevent dying? That's really counterproductive Sherlock."
Sherlock only scowled at him and flopped back onto the pillows.
He had a dusky tinge, and John noticed he was breathing faster than he should have for just laying in a bed.
John glanced at the monitors. No wonder.
"Sherlock," he chastised, getting out of the chair.
Sherlock only grunted.
"You can't be doing this," he scolded, tracing the oxygen tubing to under Sherlock's pillow. "Your sats are too low. And let me guess, you managed to turn off the alarms on the monitor?"
Sherlock smirked, but it vanished as John threaded the tubing behind his ears and went to put it under his nose again.
"No," he growled.
"Sherlock," John said firmly. "Stop this. Your sats are only 85, and you're not thinking straight. I will get a nurse in here to sedate you."
Sherlock scowled, but stopped fighting John, instead just sulking as John mothered him.
John watched as his sats rose to 93, and nodded. "Do I need to run to the paediatric floor and get some of those sticky pads they use on preemies?" he teased. "So you can't pull it off?"
Sherlock stuck his tongue out at John, but couldn't deny he was feeling better.
John settled back in his chair. "I've called Mrs Hudson and told her not to come until morning. No need for her to be here when we don't know anything."
"Don't we?" Sherlock muttered.
"Well, no. Not really. I mean, they told me you passed out from low oxygen saturation due to an arrhythmia, but they don't know what caused the arrhythmia. They also said that you have some fluid in your lungs. Have you been feeling alright lately? And don't lie to me, because this is important."
Sherlock thought for a moment. "I had a headache for most of yesterday, which I wrote off as being due to not eating. Muscle aches, but I attributed those to the ridiculous chase after the goose earlier in the week." He rolled his eyes, and John couldn't help but share the sentiment. There had been far too many cases with animals in the past week for John's liking.
"Did you catch the dog?" he asked.
John startled. "What? No. I was a bit distracted by you passing out."
Sherlock grunted. "Pity."
"So... Where's Mycroft?" John asked. Normally Sherlock's older brother showed up shortly after he was admitted to hospital, but it was going on several hours now, and there was still no sign of him.
"I suspect he won't show up until we have more answers," Sherlock sighed. "If only it could be like that all the time."
John smiled.
There was a knock at the door. A radiology tech.
"X-rays and echo time," John told Sherlock, who only scowled at the mere thought.
John wasn't looking forward to this.