Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock.

Hi everyone! As always, thanks so much for the support for this story! Your reviews and encouragement mean the world to me and always put a smile on my face. Hope you enjoy the next chapter!

Sherlock had laid down again. This was boring.

"How much longer, John?" he complained. John sighed.

"These things take time, Sherlock. Be patient."

John yawned and checked his watch. Just past four. He wished there was a more comfortable chair for him in the room but there was only the doctor's stool and though he had leaned up against the counter, John was far from comfortable. At least Sherlock got to lie down.

"What time is it?"

"Four in the morning."

"How long have we been here?"

"An hour."

"That's it?" Sherlock muttered, more to himself than to John. "I'll have to talk to Mycroft about this."

John rolled his eyes.

"Surely you can wait like every other person in this city."

"Why should I?" Sherlock asked and John sighed again. The two fell into a silence that was broken by an intern coming into the room.

"Dr. Watson?" she asked timidly. Obviously, word about Sherlock had gotten around. John glanced at her.

"Yes?"

"I'm to take Mr. Holmes up to radiology."

"Fine."

"Wait, what?" Sherlock's head popped up.

"They're taking you for an x-ray." John said.

"I know what radiology is, John. Why?"

"They want to see your insides."

"Obviously, but what are they looking for?" Sherlock asked. Honestly, it was not a hard question.

"For the cause of the pain," John answered, thinking the same thing. Surely Sherlock could make the jump from abdominal pain to abdominal x-ray. The intern put the rails back up on the bed and unlocked the wheels.

"Are you coming?" Sherlock asked John.

"Do you want me to?"

"Yes. I don't trust any of these people. At least you're not such an idiot."

"Thanks." John said dryly. The intern looked like she was about to cry.

"Don't listen to him. He gets cranky when he's tired." he said to her, stepping behind the bed.

"Do not." Sherlock huffed. "I only say it because it's true."

John, who Sherlock could no longer see, just shook his head and pushed the bed out of the room. The intern led them to the elevator and then up to the third floor.

"This is humiliating." Sherlock complained as doctors and nurses walked by him in the hallway.

"Relax," John said. "They're used to it. They're not even paying attention to who you are."

John pushed the bed up against the side of the corridor and released the side rail.

"Can you walk?" he asked, gathering the IV bag.

"Of course I can walk." Sherlock snapped, sitting up. "I could've walked up here myself."

"Right." John said as he noticed Sherlock wince when he stood, one hand behind his gown again. John and Sherlock followed the intern into the radiology room and John hung the IV bag over the table as Sherlock painfully got on it.

Okay, so maybe he wasn't as good as he said he was. This still really hurt; he didn't understand why they couldn't just give him morphine. It would make everything so much easier and pain-free.

"I'll be waiting outside," John said, starting to leave.

"You can't stay?"

"I'm not a radiologist, Sherlock," John said. "Even when I worked in hospital I had to leave."

Sherlock huffed. He did not like being left in the care of incompetent doctors.

"Just relax, it won't take long." John continued tiredly before leaving the room. He pulled the door closed behind him and sat on the gurney, pushing himself back so he was leaning against the wall.

The door opened a few minutes later and Sherlock emerged again, the intern holding his IV set up. John looked concerned – Sherlock's face had paled considerably – and got off the gurney before helping Sherlock back onto it and covering him with the blankets. Sherlock didn't complain about the gesture – something else, John realized, that should concern him. Together, the trio made their way back to the exam room on the first floor and the nurse said she'd be back when the scans were ready. John nodded and as the door closed, he turned to Sherlock, whose eyes were closed.

"Are you okay?"

Sherlock didn't answer.

"Sherlock?"

"Fine." Sherlock's mouth barely moved as he uttered the syllable.

"You don't look fine. What's wrong?"

Sherlock's eyes slid open and John saw they were a bit clouded.

"I'm dizzy."

"Anything else?"

"Nauseous."

To prove his point, Sherlock swallowed reflexively.

"Is it the same type of nausea you felt at home or is it different?"

What a stupid question, Sherlock thought. How should he know? He just felt like he was going to throw up. John noted that Sherlock's face was also beginning to shine with sweat. John pulled on a pair of gloves and took the digital thermometer from the counter. He checked Sherlock's temperature – still just a degree above normal – before finding a pen light and checking Sherlock's responses. They were a bit delayed but otherwise fine. John felt Sherlock's face and neck, finding his glands a little swollen.

"That's odd." John murmured. He moved down the bed and checked the site of the IV port. A small rash was beginning to form. John glanced up at the label on the IV bag – Demerol, which was a common pain killer.

"Sherlock, are you allergic to any medications?" John asked, looking for Sherlock's chart.

"No." Sherlock mumbled and John confirmed it on the record. "What's wrong with me, John?"

"It's alright," Johns said, finding another towel for Sherlock's forehead. "I think it's allergic reaction to the IV. I'll be right back, okay?"

Sherlock nodded and John, after moving a plastic bin to the bed and draping the towel generously, left to find Dr. Coleman. Much to Sherlock's dismay, the doctor followed John back into the exam room and John showed him the rash and elaborated on Sherlock's symptoms. Dr. Coleman agreed and discussed with John the steps to take before leaving the room coldly, not bothering to say anything to Sherlock.

As the door closed behind the doctor, John pulled on another pair of gloves and disconnected the IV.

"How are you doing?" John asked as he worked.

"Fine." Sherlock, again, barely moved. Moving would hurt and most likely make him vomit, something he wanted to avoid.

"What you're feeling – the fogginess, nausea, and dizziness – are all from the Demerol. It's a mild allergic reaction but it was enough to make your glands swell so we're going to give you some Benadryl to combat the anaphylaxis and try Dilaudid for the pain instead. It's a bit closer to morphine so you shouldn't have a problem with it."

"Why don't you just give me morphine?" Sherlock complained as John set up another bag of saline and worked on injecting the drugs into it.

"You know why." John said. "Given your history, morphine is incredibly addictive. We don't want to use it if there are alternatives."

Sherlock dug the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"Just relax, alright?" John said. "You'll be okay."

"I know."

"Then just calm down. Try to go to sleep."

"I don't want to sleep." mumbled Sherlock. "Sleep is boring."

"Sleep will make you feel better."

"Dull."

John rolled his eyes and finished off the IV, stripping the gloves. He moved the towel and re-wet it before he blotted Sherlock's forehead again.

"How much longer?" Sherlock asked. John checked his watch.

"Depending on the lab and the scans, we should know something within in a few hours."

"A few hours? I don't want to stay here for another few hours. I want to go home."

"I'm sorry, Sherlock, but what did you expect? You have severe abdominal pain. They're not going to simply give you some medicine and send you home."

"Why not?"

"Because something is causing the pain and it needs to be dealt with."

"Won't it just go away on its own?"

"It might," John conceded. "But it might not, depending what it is."

"That's annoying."

John sighed.

"You'll just have to deal with it." John said. "Try to go to sleep. It'll make the time pass faster."

Sherlock squirmed slightly.

"I feel too awful to sleep."

"Is that even possible?"

"Yes."

"If you say so. Just try to rest, okay? Trust me, you'll feel better if you just relax."

Sherlock sighed.

"You sound like a broken record."

"And you're grumpy."

John shook his head – he hadn't been kidding when he told the intern that Sherlock got grumpy when he was tired.

And now he was tired and in a lot of pain.

This was just how John always wanted to spend a night at the A&E.

As one reviewer pointed out, there is a bit of medical discrepancy in the last chapter. Sherlock wouldn't have been given anything to drink if he was suffering from undiagnosed abdominal pain. Of course, I overlooked that because I know what's wrong with him … anyways. All this to say, I try to be medically accurate but I'm not a doctor … or even a science student; I merely study the history of disease =)

Reviews are always lovely, thanks!