"Mr. Holmes," a female voice said in a sing song voice. "Mr. Holmes, we are going to move you."
Sherlock sat up, surprised he was able to, "Ah, yes, finally."
The nurse helped Sherlock out of the bed and held onto him as if he might fall. The detective didn't particularly like this, but he allowed it because he might actually fall. "Is John awake yet?" Sherlock asked.
"I'm sorry, what? Who's John?"
"Uh, sorry, John Watson, room 38C. "
"I'm not sure, but if you want when we get you to your new room I will check." This nurse was much nicer than the others, she must be new.
Sherlock smiled back and her and nodded "Yes, thank you."
The nurse took Sherlock's hand and led him around to where his new room was. The hall he was going down was much quitter and far less crowded. All the doors were shut and it seemed completely empty. When they reached a room, the nurse opened the door quietly and slowly, as if trying not to scare someone.
"This is it." She smiled and walked in with Sherlock, now letting go of his arm.
This room was different from the other rooms Sherlock had seen. It had a real bed, and a huge open window that had a particularly large lock on it. The genius looked around and knew that something was wrong with this room, if not wrong, very different. Then it hit him. Nice nurse, nice room, quiet environment. "Am I in the psychiatric ward?"
The nurse tried to put her hand on Sherlock's shoulder, but he moved away.
"Why am I in here?" he persisted.
"You walked out of your room and into another patient's room." The nurse lowered her voice.
"It was my friend John's room, the one I was talking about earlier. It was him in that room, sorry for my concern!" Sherlock was wildly gesturing with his hands and shouting by now.
"Mr. Holmes, calm down."
"Don't call me Mr. Holmes!" he sighed and ran his hands through his hair, "It's just Sherlock."
The nurse reluctantly walked closer and whispered, "Sherlock, that wasn't John's room. I know who John is, he checked out a while ago."
Sherlock turned around and put his hands on the nurse's shoulders, "What do you mean that wasn't John's room, I saw him lying there, in a coma. I touched him! He was there!"
The nurse backed up, and pushed Sherlock off. "I don't know who you were seeing, but it wasn't John. Dr. Watson was dead on arrival. I'm- I'm sorry."
"No, no, no, no. I saw him! I touched him! I held his hand! I talked to him! He's not dead!" Sherlock kicked the chair closest to him.
"Sherlock, I don't want to have to call security."
The detective sat down on the bed and looked at his feet, "Why did nobody tell me this? Why won't you tell me the date and time?" He looked up, looking the nurse straight in the eye, "You won't even tell me what hospital I'm at."
The nurse just looked at the ground, not able to meet Sherlock's glare.
"I'm going to tell you as much as I'm allowed to ok?" The nurse looked at Sherlock waiting for a response.
"Please" he begged.
The nurse walked over and sat down next to the man. "Don't talk until I'm finished."
Sherlock nodded.
She sighed and began to speak, "You checked in about 3 months ago. You were in a coma. You lost a lot of blood from getting your throat sliced. When they brought you in, your two friends were already dead. We didn't think you would make it."
"One of them is not my friend."
"When you came, you went into cardiac arrest, and had seizures. We couldn't ID you for weeks. Then some man came in and told us you were Sherlock Holmes."
"What man?"
"I can't say." The nurse tapped Sherlock lightly on the nose, "Don't interrupt."
"Sorry." He apologized.
"Any way, you were in a vegetative state for about 2 months. Then your brain activity started picking up and you would talk in your sleep. You would always say "John" and "I'm sorry" It was heart breaking watching you. Then when you woke up the first time you tried to punch the doctors. You probably don't remember, you were heavily drugged. Then the second time you got up and went into a random patient's room and cried by their bedside. We were very concerned for you Mr.- Sherlock."
He looked up, trying to keep the nurse from seeing him cry. She put her arm around his back, "It's okay."
"No…" Sherlock's voice cracked, "John is dead and my life doesn't make sense."
The nurse stood up and walked over to the tray on the table and picked up a needle.
"What's that?" Sherlock asked.
"Something that will help make the pain go away." She grabbed his arm and flipped it over, "Be still." She injected the liquid into his veins.
"Another tranquilizer?" Sherlock sighed as he laid down, he knew the drill.
"Yeah, something like that." She gave a mysterious smile and began to push a cart out of the room.
"What?" Sherlock began to panic.
"Oh! And by the way," She walked slowly over to Sherlock. She bent down to his face, her lips grazing his ear and whispered "Moriarty says hi."
Sherlock gulped loudly as the nurse pushed the cart out of the room and shut the door. He tried to get up, only to find he was paralyzed. His head could move, but that was all, and then he slowly started to lose control over his heartbeat, his lungs, his eyes. He couldn't see now, he was blind. "Help!" he tried to call out, but his mouth wouldn't move so it was just a moan. "Calm down." He told himself. Sherlock could feel his heartbeat dwindling down to nothing; it was getting harder and harder to breathe. "I'm so, so sorry John." He felt the warmth of a tear roll down his cheek, as he closed his eyes and accepted his fate.