Even before he opened his eyes, he could tell where he was.
Hospital. One of the most dreaded places in the world.
So he didn't open his eyes, not wanting to face who was inevitably there.
His parents. Great. What, was Mycroft going to show up next? Probably.
He heard the footsteps of his parents leaving the room, summoned out by a doctor who wished to talk in private. A different set entered the room a short while later.
That pattern, oh, of course he had to show up. Can't resist a good showdown.
Mycroft.
Sherlock ignored him entirely and ran through the list of people who were responsible.
The stupid policemen, taking him to the hospital. He didn't need to go to the hospital. He would have been perfectly fine to ride out the seizure there and sleep it off. Of course, other people were stupid, and most likely had panicked.
Sherlock hoped his parents didn't know how he got there. Of course, he seemed to be out of luck, probably for the rest of his life.
"I know you're awake Sherlock," his brother said quietly.
Doesn't mean I have to talk to you.
Mycroft sighed. "I sent the parents away for a bit, so you might want to talk now rather than when they return."
Sherlock sighed, but obeyed. Indeed, the room was empty save for Mycroft. Which was still a very full room.
"They don't know how you got here. I do."
Mycroft stared at Sherlock, who ignored him, staring instead out the window, which showed only the view of roofs of other buildings. He could hardly see how that view was conducive to recovery.
"So?"
"So, I'm wondering what you were doing."
Sherlock was silent for a moment, fuming.
"Oh, you mean they hadn't noticed I was gone? What a shock," he bit sarcastically.
Mycroft almost looked shocked.
"What do you mean?"
Sherlock laughed. "I ran away the day before, and they didn't notice. Unless you're going to tell me they did." He looked at Mycroft pointedly.
Mycroft's face turned stony again. "That explains one mystery. And begs another question. Why did you run away?"
Sherlock scowled. "You wouldn't understand."
Mycroft raised an eyebrow, a move that he'd surely had training for, because Sherlock had tried to do it and couldn't. "Try me," he whispered.
There were footsteps in the hall. Mycroft looked up to see his parents return to the room, a coffee each, and looked back to find Sherlock sleeping soundly.
But he knew otherwise.
