When Sherlock surfaced to consiousness again he found his brother sat in the chair next to his bed and he noted that he was in fact out of the recovery room and in a normal hospital room. His broken leg has been elevated under the covers and the pain medication is clearly being weaned off as it is throbbing uncomfortably and is in fact probably what woke him up.
"Good morning" Mycroft said somberly "Or rather good afternoon, it is four o'clock. You have been asleep for some time" he informed.
Sherlock shifted in bed but found that there was not much he could do to get comfortable. "How is John?" he asks surprised to hear how hoarse his voice is.
"Mmm… Still unconscious I believe, or he was last time I asked. It's for the best though, they have him on a ventilator so they're keeping him sedated. " Mycroft's detached tone made Sherlock want to rip his tongue out.
"Details Mycroft, give me the details, is he going to be alright?" There is an embarrassing note of desperation in his voice and Mycroft's face softens just a fraction as he looks at his clearly frightened younger brother.
"They think he'll make it but there's still a risk. His ribcage was damaged enough to cause a flail chest. He had surgery to fix the ribs and they have him on a ventilator for now. His CT scan showed only minor swelling unlike your own, you are aware that you currently have a drain protruding from the left side of your head right?"
"Stop Mycroft." Sherlock reached a hand out toward his brother and then pulled it back again reaching to touch his own bandaged head. "John's the medical expert, I have absolutely no idea what a flail chest is, explain." He ordered as his fingers danced over the tube extending out of his head. If he wasn't so worried about John he would be intrigued by the object.
"It means that he broke enough ribs in multiple places for a segment of his ribcage to become detached from the rest. When he breathes this segment moves inward pressing in on his lungs. This in combination with the ribs having punctured his lung means that he can't get enough oxygen. Because the lungs were not damaged with the same severity they have had to have him intubated in a manner that allows each lung to be managed separately.
"Ok… what else?"
They are concerned about his heart. That is the main problem as they see it I believe, it's bruised and there's been signs of arrhythmia." Sherlock blanched at the description his own heart seemingly twisting in his chest at the description.
"His leg was bleeding?" he added unhelpfully as he recalled the scene from the car.
"Yes, he had an open fracture just below the knee, not as bad as your own but you'll likely have matching scars. If you're going to be picky about it I believe he also has a concussion, three broken fingers and a fair bit of muscle damage in the broken leg but those aren't exactly life threatening. If you want to worry, I would focus on the chest trauma."
Sherlock felt like screaming… he didn't want to worry, he wanted John to be alright. He wanted John sitting in the chair beside him instead of Mycroft. John would have worried about him but he would have been practical and helpful. He would amuse Sherlock and take care of him, he would bloody well have made sure that there was some water around because his throat felt raw and parched.
"I want to see him." Sherlock stated simply and Mycroft looked at him with pitying eyes.
"You're not going to be leaving this bed for some days, certainly not until they take the drain out"
"It wasn't there before… when I woke up… I didn't have anything in my head then" Sherlock absentmindedly touched his head again.
"No, they expected the bleeding to stop naturally. It didn't, they had to decrease the pressure. It was most unpleasant." Mycroft did indeed look a little uncomfortable and a dense silence settled over the room.
"Mycroft, what did they do to my head?" Sherlock said finally, his voice small and worried, nothing like his usual petulant tone.
"Nothing much… they just put the drain in to stop the bleeding causing further damage"
"My mind palace… it's had a break in… It's all a mess, there's things missing and I don't know what used to be there, just it's not there any more… I need to… it doesn't make sense…. It hurts to think… I… I want John." It was hard to say who of the brothers was more disturbed as tears started to roll down Sherlock's cheeks. Shame burned in his cheeks as he held back a sob but he couldn't help himself. Everything hurt, his mind palace was a mess and he wasn't allowed to see John, nothing, absolutely nothing was alright. He squeezed his eyes shut to hide from his brother's pitying gaze and eventually he fell back asleep and Mycroft was greatly relieved when the tears stopped and Sherlock's breathing evened out.
