Kate headed over for the clinic after work. She had been distracted all day, and she had known it, but somehow this was still easier than the early days of Sherlock's illness, when she had spent her days at work constantly worrying about what was happening at home. Parents must feel like this when they first left their children at nursery, she had thought. Was something happening that she should know about? Was he okay? Did he need her? It wasn't that she didn't trust John, it was just the uncomfortable and probably entirely irrational feeling that she should be there; that there were situations that she could deal with better than anyone else, even though she knew that wasn't true. Even when Sherlock himself had encouraged her to go back to work; even though she knew that he would split his day between therapy with Ed Harris, and sleep, and she could help with neither of those.

This time though, she knew that he was safe. She knew that he was being better looked after at the clinic than he ever could be at home, and yet letting go of that control, and of the concern, was still difficult. It felt good to be doing something normal, though, and amid the children with viral infections and rashes and the sprained ankles and minor head injuries she somehow managed to forget Sherlock for at least short periods of time.

She had phoned the clinic before leaving for work that morning, and John had texted after his visit that morning to tell her that Sherlock had slept through his visit, but seemed calm, and well looked after. And that was what mattered, wasn't it? That should be all that mattered. She knew that he would get well, knew that eventually she would have him home and that life would resume some resemblance of normality, and yet knowing it and believing it seemed to be two entirely different prospects at this moment in time.

Walking through the doors of the clinic that evening, she took in what she had missed last time. The security at this place was astounding. There were two security guards discretely positioned next to the door. The receptionists had a screen in front of their desk, well-hidden in the ceiling, but ready to be dropped at the push of a button. The main part of the building was entirely sealed off from the entrance atrium. Cameras were everywhere, and she wondered exactly how quickly they could go into lock-down, or how often they needed to.

Announcing herself at the desk, she only had to wait for a few minutes before the second nurse from yesterday was there, to escort her to Sherlock's room. 'I'm Chloe,' she told Kate, as she let Kate through door after sealed door. 'I've been helping Anna to look after Sherlock.'

'You were there yesterday,' Kate said. 'I remember. How is he?'

'He's been asleep most of the day,' Chloe said, 'but the sedation should be wearing off soon, so hopefully he'll wake up while you're here. He needs a few more days of sedation yet, though I'd say. Give him time to recover from what happened on Saturday night, and to get used to being here.'

They had arrived at the door to Sherlock's room, and Chloe stood back to let her in to the antechamber first, and then checked the small screen by the second door, before opening that one also. The screen gave a black and white view of the room within, Kate realised, to prevent staff walking in and compromising a patient's dignity. If they could provide those for the NHS then it would prevent a lot of awkward moments all round.

'Kate's here,' she said to Anna, who was changing the empty bag of intravenous fluid hanging next to Sherlock's bed for a full one. Still not drinking then. Anna smiled at her. 'Come and sit with him, if you want,' she said.

Kate was struck again by how clean and neat the room looked, but then with two nurses looking after one patient it wasn't surprising that nothing was more than a centimetre out of place. Sherlock was lying on his side, back to the door, fast asleep, and Chloe brought across a chair and placed it next to the bed, so that Kate could sit and watch his sleeping face. John was right, he looked calm, and well looked after. The nurses were obviously doing their job well. There were no signs of his turbulent night, which Anna had reported back to her.

She reached across to kiss him on the cheek, and sleepily he opened his eyes and blinked slowly, as if trying to focus on her.

'Hullo,' she said, smiling at him.

He closed his eyes again for a few seconds, and then opened them again as if to check that she was still there. He looked dazed and unsure. He lifted a hand to rub his eyes, ignoring the length of plastic tubing that was now well-secured to it with tape.

'Are you real?' he asked bluntly.

'Of course, I'm real - here,' and she lifted a hand to stroke his cheek. His hand came up to cover hers, fingers curling round hers lightly, and she reached to kiss him again, on the forehead this time.

'Are the voices telling you that I'm not real?'

He nodded; eyes searching her face for reassurance, scanning it almost, as if weighing up the evidence for himself.

'Don't listen to them, Sherlock, listen to me. I'm real, and I'm here, and I love you, and nothing is going to change that.'

He remained silent, but his fingers tightened further around hers as he dropped his hand back to the bed, holding hers tight.

'Is it getting any easier?' she asked, finally.

'I don't know,' he said, sounding dazed. 'It's difficult to think. Sleeping helps.'

'Then sleep,' Kate said quietly. 'Until it gets better.'

Anna was there, she realised, a silent presence on the other side of the bed. 'Do you want some more sedation?' she asked Sherlock, and Kate picked up on what she had, the slight tension on Sherlock's face as if he was listening to an internal dialogue. 'Switch off those voices?'

He nodded, rolling over onto his back to look at Anna.

'Can you take these pills for me first?' she asked, offering him a pot of tablets, but he shook his head.

'Not today,' he said, still sounding distracted. Kate's eyes met Anna's across the bed, wondering if she should say something, but Anna shook her head at her slightly, indicating that she should remain silent.

She had a tray of syringes in her hand already, and Sherlock's hold on Kate's hand loosened as the sedation took hold. 'I'm sorry,' he murmured, but he was asleep before she could ask him what he was apologising for.

Once she was sure that Sherlock was deeply asleep, Anna indicated with her head that Kate should join her at the nurses desk, where he was less likely to overhear them.

'He'll take the medication eventually,' Anna told her. 'It often takes a few days for patients to get to that point. Some of it is about trust, the rest, I think, is about feeling able to make a positive step towards recovery. He's not ready for that yet.'

'But he's here,' Kate said stupidly. 'Why would he be here if he doesn't think that he can get well?'

'He's here because he doesn't want to be a burden,' Anna explained gently. 'It's easier to be looked after by strangers than to face the guilt of what he might be putting people he cares about through. The voices aren't helping that. That will be exactly what they're telling him, over and over. That he's just hurting you and John, that you would be better off without him in your lives. That was why he was on the roof, Kate. That was what he was trying to achieve.'

'So how do we get him over that, if he won't take medication?'

'He's getting haloperidol intravenously. That should switch off the voices eventually, and the sedation will help the rest. As he just told you, it's slowing him down, making it difficult for him to think, and if he can't think, then he can't access those negative thoughts which are part of the vicious circle of depression. Once the voices stop, he should be able to take medication, and then it's just giving that a chance to kick in.'

'Can I sit with him for a while?' Kate asked.

'Of course, stay as long as you like.'

And so Kate sat, and watched him sleep, and wondered again at the complex range of emotions that the human mind was capable of. She felt fiercely protective of Sherlock in his vulnerability, and yet at the same time came that overwhelming relief at knowing that he was safe. A small part of her was angry with him for not having talked to her, for being on that roof and not even trying to involve her in that decision. Even though she knew logically that he hadn't been responsible for his actions at the time, that the voices had been firmly in control, still, part of her remained furious with him.

Sherlock would have been fascinated by this conflict. His mind worked in black and white, shutting off emotions most of the time before they had time to evolve, before they had time to complicate; at least it did when he was well. It wasn't that he didn't feel things, as she had discovered early in their relationship, it was just that he discounted anything that wasn't rational, wasn't logical. When he was working all that existed for him was the case and the logical facts, nothing more. The assault of emotion was one of the things that he had found it hardest to deal with during his illness, he had told her. The irrational and illogical nature of it, the inability to keep those doors in his head shut, and the disintegration in his thinking that had resulted.

Better to shut it off then, for now, Kate thought, to shut it all off, until he could deal with it. He was here, at least. He was safe, he was well looked after. Time to try and shut off some doors in her own head too, to keep those nagging doubts shut away until she had time to process them. Sitting here with Sherlock, watching him sleep she felt oddly calm. Safe, for now, and in the right place to get well; finally after all those weeks of waiting and watching and trying to persuade him to accept more help.

Anna came over and rested a quiet hand on her shoulder. 'You okay?' she asked gently. She had been watching Kate's face, Kate realised, reading the conflict within.

Kate looked up at her and smiled gratefully, 'I'm fine,' she said, and it was half true. 'I'm trying to convince myself that the glass is half full and not half empty.'

'We'll get him well, Kate,' Anna told her, and there was a confidence in her tone that Kate carried with her as she kissed Sherlock goodbye and let Chloe escort her back to the main door and into a waiting taxi, despite her protests.

'Go home, get some food and some rest, let us take care of him, and try not to worry,' Chloe told her as she closed the door of the taxi behind her. And somehow when they reached the door of Baker Street and the taxi driver told her that the trip was on the clinic's account, she wasn't surprised. And with a degree of guilt she realised that she was glad that Sherlock was safe in the clinic, that much as she missed him, he was where he needed to be, and there was a reassurance in that.