"So...Theo Smith was held trial for murder, but got away with it?"
"Yes...somehow. The jury was incompetent, more so than even your friend thinks I am."
John almost laughed. Anderson was incompetent, but he was proving extremely useful at that point in time. "And he was accused of letting a patient die?"
"More actually killing them, but as I said, he got away with it. Didn't you see it on the TV? It wasn't that long ago."
"I've watched a very small amount of TV since meeting Sherlock, to be honest."
"How's he doing, anyway?"
John looked at the other man quizzically. "I thought you hated him."
"Not enough to want to see him in a coma."
"He's stable. I'd explain the whole ASC thing but it really is complicated, it would take me half an hour."
"Right. Just...look, I don't know if you'll want me there- he certainly won't -but can I visit?"
"Of course. I mean, he can't insult you, so everything should be fine."
"What do you fear most in the world, Patient H?"
"Can you please stop calling me that?"
"Ah, no. If I identify you as an individual, a named individual, it'll be much harder to see you hurt. It brings back...memories."
Sherlock felt nauseous, imagining what the experiment could entail. Partly created by the brain of a slightly psychotic doctor, partly created by the brain of a high functioning sociopath; not a good combination, to say the very least. It's okay, whatever he does can't actually hurt you...
"He looks...strange."
"To say the least." said John, who was standing next to Anderson stiffly, arms crossed.
"I suppose he is in a coma. What do you think happens to him in the...ASCNs, was it?"
"No idea."
"What was that thing he used to do? He would make everyone leave the room..?"
"Oh, the mind palace? That was some kind of memory trick, I think."
"Maybe he's there."
"I'm not entirely sure how it works..."
"Maybe you should research it."
"Maybe. I have the feeling it would be a waste of time."
Anderson shrugged, watching his least favorite person's chest rise and fall. He looked as if he could be dead, apart from that. That was ironic- he had often wanted Sherlock dead, but when the time came that it was a possibility he could die, he didn't want him to. Anderson sighed, frustrated, and perplexed as to why he even cared.
"How do you know what's been happening to me?"
"Oh, you told me. Sub-subconsciously. I quite like that term, actually; you really are interesting. A palace, an orchard, fantastic terminology...ah, if only all patients were as clever as you. Why can't people just think, hm?"
"Then surely you know what scares me the most."
Smith smiled slightly, the corners of his cruel, thin lips barely lifting. "It's merely a scare tactic, asking you what you're most scared of."
"You can't scare me; the worst thing you could do is invade my mind, my thoughts, my being, and you already have."
"Are you sure, Patient H? I know you would gladly die for your friends."
Sherlock's eyes narrowed slightly. "If my deductions are accurate- which they already are -you can only invade the minds of ASC patients, and only then if they are in a coma."
"Yes, that's right. But I am actually a real, physical human being, too. And I'm rather influential."
