A/N: Again, general disclaimers apply. This is more a "filler" chapter. Read at your own risk of brain drain. No guarantees this contains that much humour. Hopefully, have some ideas for chapter 4 that will be more smile-inducing. *shrug* We'll see... your reviews are always appreciated!
Chapter 3: Bored And Out Of Bed
After Dr Hoffman and his nurse, Joyce, had exited Sherlock's hospital room, a.k.a. cell, the tube-tied detective shifted down under the sheets, resignedly. Ten more minutes until his next morphine top-up. He wondered if he could sleep away some of this sick-enforced confinement period. Perhaps he could convince Dr Hoffman that he required a Ketamine-induce coma until he his body caught up to his mind's agility. Groan. Probably not. He frowned and closed his eyes. Life was so dull. He decided to practise his breath-holding exercises. Breathing is boring… he remembered mentioning that once upon a time to John. He contemplated the physiology of surviving without breathing. Artificial gills? It was all a matter of the carbon dioxide building up in the blood anyway. If he could figure out how to dissipate the CO2 he'd be able to suppress his diaphragmatic spasms that involuntarily took over after several minutes. He drifted off into a restless dream state while contemplating the evaporation coefficient versus heart rate and flow velocity.
He awoke with a start to see one of the nurses, Janet by her name badge, leaning over him with an empty syringe. He blinked rapidly, conscious thoughts fired at lightening speed across his synapses trying to orient himself to person, place, and time.
Janet spoke first. "Sorry, Mr Holmes. I didn't mean to startle you. Dr Hoffman wrote orders to remove your catheter today."
Sherlock's brain processed this information. Memory confirmed the truth in her statement. He frowned. Tubes entering or exiting his body was not exactly the most comforting of thoughts to imagine. "Now?" his mouth was dry and the word came out a bit to too croaky for his liking.
Janet nodded. "It'll only take a second. Nothing to fear, Mr Holmes." She noticed the sudden apprehension that appeared on the pale man's face. "It's a lot easier coming out than going in." She inserted the syringe tip into the port on the rubber Foley tube and withdrew the saline in the anchoring balloon.
For once, the borderline narcissistic detective who dared to defy social etiquette with embarrassing deductions at the most inappropriate times, kept his mouth firmly closed. He wisely decided this was not the time to tell Janet that he could tell she was cheating on her fiancée who worked in the I.T. department with another nurse colleague.
"On the count of three," Janet looked up at Sherlock. "One, two…" she swiftly removed the catheter.
"Three."
"F*!" Sherlock gritted his teeth.
"Too late," Janet chimed. "I pulled it out on two, you yelped on three."
"You were supposed to take it out on the count of three," Sherlock pouted slightly.
"What? And prolong the anticipation?" Janet cocked an eyebrow at the detective.
"Well, no…" he lowered his eyes.
"OK then. Finished. Have you ordered breakfast yet?" Janet switched gears efficiently.
"Yes."
"I'll be off then. I'll check on you later. Press the call button if you need anything."
Sherlock nodded. "I could use a cigarette?" he suggested hopefully.
Janet smiled and shook her head. "Sorry, you know the rules. Besides you already have the patch."
"But one patch is not enough!" Sherlock tried to explain.
"It's the highest allowed nicotine dose you're going to get in this hospital," the nurse commented as she exited.
Dull! He huffed and hunkered down into his bed to sulk.
~221b~
"Sherlock?" John tried to judge whether his friend was sleeping or just browsing inside his mind palace.
"John," his eyes opened with genuine pleasure. "You're here."
The shorter man settled down into a visitor chair.
Neither man spoke for a few moments.
"Well, this is a bit awkward," John spoke aloud at last.
Sherlock gave John an agreeing eye-roll.
"Um… how did Janine take the news of your less-than-truthful relationship," John began hesitantly.
"Fine. She's fine, John." Sherlock snapped back.
"Some interesting stories in the papers. Any truth to them?"
"None whatsoever, John," Sherlock sighed.
"Anything you want chat about?"
"No. I don't do 'chatting', remember?" Sherlock sniffed.
Silence.
"I'm bored," Sherlock finally blurted out. "Look!" his arachnid fingers imbedded themselves in his disorderly curls. "My mind is dying – dying of starvation!"
"Oh, guess that's not really surprising," his knowing flatmate remarked dryly.
"I've been stuck in this one room for ages and ages… can you get me out?" He looked at his former flatmate with pleading eyes, anguish exquisitely expressed in every detail. "Please."
"I guess I could request a wheelchair…." John looked at Sherlock with a professional eye. "Are you strong enough to stand up?"
"Yes, of course!"
After a suitable period, John finally bade his friend goodbye for the day. He left Sherlock still seated in his wheelchair, hanging out in the hospital hallway near the nurse station on Ward B.
It was better than watching the barren white walls in his isolated hospital room. Sherlock had wheels. Mobility was still limited, admittedly, but…
Shift change. Sherlock observed the patterns. With a touch of ingenuity, good luck, and darn good acting skills (Sherlock congratulated himself on his drama proficiency), the consulting detective, turned hospital invalid, managed to access the computers on the ward. A few clicks of the keys was all he had time for. It was all he needed. He wheeled himself gingerly over to another corner for an improved viewpoint when the new shift of nurses took over for the night.
"What the…?!" The charge nurse clicked her mouse repeatedly, tapped the roller ball, and finally jabbed randomly at the computer keyboard. "Is anyone else's computer having problems?" she called over to her colleagues.
A chorus of keyboard taps and mouse clicks answered.
"Bloody hell!"
"Bugger!"
"This is crap…"
"F"ing virus must have downed the system," a nurse in red scrubs with short blond hair complained.
"How are we supposed to do our job with such rubbish," another nurse in grey whined. "Stupid budget cuts! Scrimping on the computer systems and look what we get… crap… absolute useless electronics…."
No one noticed the lone figure in the wheelchair, eyelids drawn down over a languid face, apparently nearly asleep. A devious smile flitted momentarily across the man's face and then just as quickly disappeared. A few moments of respite from the ennui. Sherlock counted the minutes.
A call down to tech support. A jeans and tee clad youth that looked hardly a day over thirteen appeared on the scene eleven minutes and eight seconds later. He bent over the shoulder of the charge nurse and manoeuvred the plastic mouse automatically in his right palm. His quick eyes shifted across the screen and he clicked the spacebar. Suddenly he smiled.
Not too bad for a tech, Sherlock mused. "Two minutes and forty-nine seconds once he actually arrived on the scene."
The tech, Ryan, grinned. "Someone has been playing with your computers. One of the oldest tricks in the book." He made a few more clicks on the computers as he whistled and quickly brought all the static computer monitors to life again. "Simple screen shot of the login-in screen. Click to log in and viola! no can do!" His tone was a bit too enthusiastic for some of the older nurses who grumbled under their breath.
"Neat little trick. Takes just moments and entirely frustrating if you're not expecting it." He finished closing out the static picture on all the monitors. "All fixed. Now the only question is, who. Who set you up?" His boyish eyes twinkled and he trotted back to the elevator.
The charge nurse looked over at her colleagues and shrugged. "I have no idea."
Sherlock shuttled his way back to his room. By the time, Mark, his nurse for the night came to check on him, he was settled in his bed, apparently asleep. Time to plan his next escape from boredom. "Operation Ennui," he termed it.
Reviews and suggestions always brighten my day and help reduce the endless ennui!