Hi all! This is one of the longer chapters :)

Thanks so much to gemstone1234 for the prompt. I hope you all like this one.

Please feel free to drop a review or prompt below. I think I know where this one will go next but let me know if you have any ideas for a separate story!

Melissa xxx


Day three – Sherlock was still in hospital, but slept through the night out of pure boredom. His equipment was still all attached to him. John was dozing in his chair. Sherlock had started getting that strange feeling of a fever – hot and cold at the same time, so he decided to wake up John.

"John. John. John. Wake up John."

John slowly woke himself up, and looked across at Sherlock.

"Sherlock, they're taking off the equipment today. You don't need it all anymore, but they want to keep you here another day because of the fever and hallucinations."

Sherlock was relieved at having all the equipment removed, but still appalled at being kept here. "What?! I'm not having the hallucinations anymore, and a mere fever isn't enough to keep me contained here!"

"You're just being irrational. Has the fever gotten to you yet?"

Sherlock knew that, in fact, it had. He was feeling hot and cold, and couldn't decide whether to keep the hospital blanket on or off. "No." he stated blankly.

"Sherlock, you're angry for no reason. You must be feeling terrible." John stood up and tried to feel Sherlock's temperature with the back of his hand. He batted it away. John didn't try again.

"OK then, Sherlock. I'll just leave you to yourself. Let the nurse know if you need anything."

"Wait! Where are you going?" Sherlock yelled, desperate to make John stay.

"I'm going home to have a shower, and have a cup of tea or something. I haven't left this chair in days, you know!"

Sherlock, feeling too ill to protest, let John leave. A few seconds later, he poked his head around the door.

"Sherlock?"

"Mm?"

"I'll be back in a few hours."

Sherlock grunted, and lay back down in bed. Then it hit him. He doesn't need to be kept here because of a fever! He's already recovered from heatstroke! There's a window in his room and he's on the ground floor.

He ripped out all of the cords in three violent movements, but held his breath for the nasogastric tube as it was in his mouth. His nose was running uncontrollably, and he still had strange, slightly painful feelings in him from when he pulled out the equipment, not to mention he had a fever, which had possibly risen during the night.

He shoved John's chair under the door-handle, so no-one could come in to check on him. He found a metal stand; the kind medical staff put medicine in to lead to the IV drips, and used it to smash the window when he couldn't open it.

He wasn't as weak as his slim body and wiry frame suggested, and smashed through the window with ease – even in his weakened state.

His only worry now was getting caught.

He jumped out the window and ran, but in his fevered frenzy, he had ran right through the glass and gotten quite a few cuts from the glass. Deep ones. He kept running, but he was losing a lot of blood.

He had been running for about 10 minutes, leaving red footprints as he went, until he collapsed in a pool of blood.

oOo

John had his shower, had a few cups of tea, and was wearing his favorite sweater, when he decided to get back into a cab and went back to the hospital. He felt so relaxed and fresh, and hoped that Sherlock had been sleeping, or at least resting.

John paid the cabbie and went inside. He went up to Sherlock's room to find the door closed. He knocked quietly, so if he was asleep he wouldn't be woken, but loud enough for him to hear if he was awake.

There was no response so he twisted the knob to get inside. The door wouldn't open, so he yelled.

"Sherlock! Are you OK?" There was no response, so John started banging on the door, which attracted the attention of some nearby staff. Suddenly, John had an epiphany. The window.

John didn't know his way around the hospital properly, so it took him a while to find the right window, but when he did, he saw broken glass, and lots of blood. He panicked, worried about his colleague. Somewhat fortunately, there was a trail of blood that John could follow.

He didn't know how he would tell this to a cabbie, so instead, he ran.

He didn't know how long he had been running, but soon enough he was crouched by his friend's side. He had already called an ambulance, which was on it's way, but for now John was left to nurse Sherlock's wounds, deepest first.

John didn't have his medical bag with him, so he would have to sacrifice his favorite jumper for the cause.

He pulled it off and started to apply pressure to the deepest wounds.

'Sherlock Holmes, what am I going to do with you?'


I forgot to mention, I am currently celebrating 2000 words! Yay!