Eloquently enough, the first word out of Sherlock's mouth was "fuck", soon followed by "bored".

Lestrade grinned at this. How typically Sherlockian.

"Hello to you too," he said, watching Sherlock's face with amusement.

The amusement faded when he reminded himself that it was not funny, because Sherlock was suffering, in pain, and most likely bored. But still... hearing Sherlock swear... he stored it away to laugh at some other time when Sherlock was not grimacing in front of him.

"How are you feeling?"

Sherlock glared at him.

Lestrade rolled his eyes. "Fine. So. Any questions for me?"

"How's the diet?" Sherlock inquired, eyes not straying from Lestrade's face.

Lestrade froze, not quite knowing how to answer that one.

"Fine," came the response from the doorway. Lestrade spun to see Mycroft leaning in the doorway, having appeared there who knows when, silently stealthy.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, still not bothering to look at Mycroft.

"I do hope you didn't destroy the career of the anaesthesiologist."

Mycroft raised an eyebrow, and Sherlock somehow managed to sense it, despite ignoring him. Lestrade only looked on in amazement.

"Oh, don't give me that, you're so predictable it's boring." Sherlock rolled his eyes again, still not moving his head to look at Mycroft.

In fact, now that Lestrade thought about it, Sherlock hadn't moved at all since he'd awoken.

Mycroft seemed to have noticed the same thing.

"Sherlock," he said carefully, moving into the room. "Look at me."

Sherlock sighed. "No."

"Sherlock," Mycroft warned.

"Oh, what are you going to do to me if I don't?" Sherlock asked sarcastically. "Lock me up? Take away my pain meds? Fix my telly so that it only has soap channels? It doesn't matter."

Mycroft made a movement that may have been a frown. It was difficult to tell. Lestrade wondered if he used botox.

"No," he said simply. "I am simply trying to determine if I need to call your doctor in to look at possible paralysis, or if you're simply being impossibly stubborn."

Sherlock sighed, and finally rolled his head slightly to look at Mycroft.

"Happy?" Sherlock bit out.

"Peachy," Mycroft replied. And he did in fact seem, peachy. Or as peachy as a Sherlock could be in a hospital.

With that, he left, spinning his umbrella around his finger. (Perhaps John was right about it being some sort of new weapon. Lestrade supposed that Mycroft wouldn't swing it around like that if it was indeed a sword.)

"What was that about?" Lestrade asked, leaning in closer. "Because it sure wasn't to annoy him."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Really. And you knew that because..."

Lestrade scowled. "I don't know. I just did."

"Astute observational skills," Sherlock muttered, closing his eyes as he said it.

Finally it dawned on Lestrade.

"You're in pain aren't you. You prat!"

Sherlock opened his eyes at that, intrigued at where this was going.

"You don't want to admit any sort of weakness, so you're not going to tell your brother you're in pain, and not paralysed." Lestrade rolled his eyes. "John sure was right about the sibling rivalry," he muttered to himself.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," he spat. "Just... stay here. I'll go find a doctor or nurse or someone who can give you pain meds or something."

"Really not necessary," Sherlock said weakly.

"Bullocks," Lestrade snorted. "Just shut up for once and listen to me."

"If you insist."

"Oh I absolutely do."

As soon as he could tell Lestrade had left, Sherlock smiled a bit to himself. There was a reason Lestrade was the only detective at the yard he'd work with. He was not entirely without observational skills, which was rather refreshing in the policing world these days.

Lestrade returned with a nurse, and within ten minutes, Sherlock was asleep.

Lestrade rolled his eyes at him while smiling fondly. Sherlock was basically a small child, not wanting to admit they were tired so they could stay up past their bedtime, not admitting they were hungry so they could keep playing their game.

Sherlock required the same treatment as a child did. A firm hand and someone to set down an ultimatum.

John should have gone into paediatrics, Lestrade noted, once more shaking his head at Sherlock before returning to see how John was. He lives with one anyway.