It is so bright. I can't see! Sherlock? Mrs. Hudson?! I cannot hear either of them. I feel kind of numb, and my feet are freezing. Sherlock! Turn down the hellish lights. Please? And. And Make the pain just stop. For once, listen to me you stupid idiot. I need a blanket, I need sleep, I need this to stop. Where the shit are you?

Wait, I'm not even talking, am I? God dammnit. I'm still cold though.

"Mr. Watson, you need to stop straining and lie down." Who's voice was that?

"It may be hard coming back, but you have to listen to your doctor." And who's was that? Who is speaking to me?! And doctor? I must be in the hospital. I have that at least.

"He's convulsing, doctor." Beep beep beep beep. "Cradle his head!" My head. My head? Convulsing? No I am not. I feel fine despite the- The... Oh dear. My chest is on fire. My arms and legs are in flames. If I get out of this, I will personally have Sherlock's skull on MY fireplace. 'Close friend' my ass.

"There, let him calm down." Beep...Beep...Beep. "He's losing consciousness, doctor." Beep...Beep...Beep... "Let him. He needs sleep." Losing what? Oh, I feel numb again. And I still can't see. Dumbass doctors. And I'm sleepy, which sleep sounds amazing right now. The light isn't as bright, it's getting darker, softer. Sleep.

...

...

"John." A familiar and annoying voice. "John!" It's Sherlock, hurray.

My eyes ease open, getting used to the lights again. Blurrs of shapes come into view. "Sherlock." And of course, my voice cracks like a school boy. "John, you didn't drink the water." It's my fault now? Thanks. "Ass." Things begin to come into sight. The first is Sherlock's smartass face. Then, Molly. "Here, I didn't know if you liked candy or not." She sets chocolates beside me.

And I get a good look of where I am.

"The hospital. Holmes took me to a hospital." I grab the chocolates and look at the lable. "Problem?" Sherlock is sitting crosslegged in a chair to my right, taking the chocolates from my hold. I hiss at him, "Damn you, slick fingers." Molly chuckles to my left.

I smile up at her, then turn back to the near murderer. "Yes, problem. I can't recall a time you couldn't handle a situation like mine. Why did you take me here?" Sherlock throws the chocolates back at me. And he efficiently ate a good portion. I look at him with a full mouth. "And you eat a sick man's food."

Sherlock laughs despite his full mouth. Then swallows. "I took you here because I wasn't so sure I'd help you in time. And I wasn't really hungry, I just wanted to 'test it'. It'd be horrible to be poisoned while IN the hospital." Molly looks to Sherlock and sigh's, "I bought that. It hasn't been out of my sight!"

I take in a laugh. "You were hungry, admit it. Even sociopaths need food every now and then." I get a look at myself. A very unflattering hospital gown, an IV stuck in my left arm, and I feel another tube sticking from my neck. Sherlock mentions something about food transport, but I ignore it. "What is this?"

Molly looks a little graver, "You were out for a couple days at most. Since you couldn't really get up and move arou-"

The detective who was situating in his chair cut her off, "Your body went in and out of consciousness for fifty hours. In that time you went into five convulsions caused by xenon poisoning. It wasn't the scot who sold you the bottle, it was from a broken bulb at the warehouse the wine was being stored. Someone didn't close it properly and resealed it. That needle in your neck drops melatonin in your system every time that machine suspects you are going into another siezure, forcing you to sleep. When you are asleep your body can clear itself of any toxins much quicker. Thus keeping you. Alive."

I put on a faux smile to my friend then looked to Molly. "Thank you so very much, Hooper. You are more than a friend right now." A ticked off Holmes lets his mouth fall.

"Well, that was interesting." She braces a helpful hand on John's arm and waves to Sherlock. "I should go, really. People waiting, people wondering." John nods, letting her go with ease but Holmes isn't that gracious. "Family down? Another boyfriend I should warn you about?" He's smiling but accessing everything at the same time. It's a mask he constantly puts on.

Molly stutters, looking back to me shaking my head. "Yes. I should get to them, him. Bye!" She smiles, pulling her purse snug on her shoulder and bounding out.

I let my head fall to Holmes' direction. "You do know that isn't nice. Messing around with people's personal lives? It's hurtful." And I know that Holmes knows it's bad. "It is only for her own good. Something is bothering her, it isn't right."

I push the button on my bed to call a nurse, "You aren't right, Sherlock. Cut some slack on the poor woman." A nurse walks in, but Sherlock doesn't notice. He's thinking.

Molly has had no relationship since the psychopath. I mean Jim. Her body has gained at least five pounds, and considering her menstruation cycles and active lifestyle, it is far too much. Possible stress. But from what? Her clothing is neat, too neat, nothing is out of place and there are no wrinkles. No clues clothing wise. But facial? No makeup today, hair not looking it's best. So it's safe to say she's been doing home remodeling or cleaning. Ironing, washing, polishing but nothing to herself. So, with all of this, what is wrong with her? What is it?

"A catheder, a damned catheder." I hiss, gaining a wierd look from Holmes.