It was the pain that woke him up. A dull throbbing had taken over, and Sherlock felt it pulse through his entire body. He blinked and took a deep breath. Bad idea. Immediately, a sharp pain spread out across his chest. "Burn the heart out of you," echoed his mind, and the detective tried to steady his breathing. The pain was hardly bearable. His neck felt stiff, and he was sure that his jaw was paralyzed. His head hurt, and his brain felt suddenly too big for his skull. God, I'm dying, he thought. It was eating him up. He forced his eyes shut and tried to drift away into his mind palace – to no avail. The pain was much too vivid to be ignored. Damn. And then there was the itching skin! Itching on the inside even. He had not felt this helpless since his darker days. Of course, he had had lots of bad trips then. Only this was not a trip. It was real. And it would not end. Groaning, Sherlock stretched out a limp hand toward the emergency button resting next to his pillow. He needed a nurse. He needed more painkillers.