Handle with care
Standard disclaimer: Sherlock, John and all other mentioned characters belong to BBC and the guys who invented them. I just borrowed them for fun. I wrote this for my personal delight and improving my English, no copyright infringement intended. No money changed hands and no profit is being made.
Chapter 14 was beta-ed by Graveofthefireflies! Many thanks to her and her medical advice.
This story was originally published December 1, 2013 and finished January 18, 2014. It is currently reposted due to the beta-ing and the resulting rearrangement of the chapters. If you have read this story before, there is nothing really new here, sorry.
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Chapter 14
Lestrade arrived with a forensic technician Sherlock had never seen before, and who didn't say a single word while in their room. But he packed all the evidence neatly after taking several samples and even more pictures.
Mycroft arrived several seconds after Lestrade with the head of the hospital and the chief of security. The spacious hospital room turned into a headquarter within two minutes, people rushing in and out, asking for orders, speaking into intercoms and mobile phones; and every time someone new arrived they asked Sherlock how he was.
After ten minutes Sherlock was so ticked off about the disarray and slow going tries to coordinate he smashed a metal lid against it's bin and yelled.
"Quiet!"
Mycroft who was standing next to John's bed rolled his eyes. John had sat down on it, it was kind of the only space not occupied with chaos and planning in the room.
"I'm fine, the dose was small, stop asking!" Sherlock continued to yell, ruffling his hair. "Can you please use your brains and get a grip on your coordination lacks. Lestrade, go to the kitchen, find out who packed the tray and Dr Herald, find that small blonde nurse aid that served John the meal."
"Susan is the best nurse aid we have and she is a shy thing, she'd never do such a thing."
"Don't underestimate these people's methods to make someone comply. Everybody has a pressure point," Sherlock grouched through the room, to drown out the new raising chaos.
"Mycroft, is the hospital closed off?"
"Yes," the head of security confirmed. "My staff is bringing everybody who touched that tray to the conference room."
"We also need to check on everybody that has started to work here within the past two days… or who wasn't supposed to be where he or she was… Make the staff report any anomalies about those things. Chances to find something are not high, but try it," Sherlock demanded and the head of security dialled again.
"Gentleman, can you please establish your base somewhere else? My patients need rest," Dr Herald tried.
Mycroft smirked, "Doctor, if we go somewhere else your patients would follow us there. So we can do this right here… Would be less stress than if they were running through the hospital. Spare yourself the stress to try to make them rest. You'll loose… unless you sedate them."
She sighed, "You're probably right. I'll talk to the nurses about abnormalities now, though they were already told to report strangers since Dr Watson's arrival."
She left. The chief of security and Mycroft followed her.
"Now, nice that we have the quiet to get your statement. Tell me what exactly happened," Lestrade started.
"Not much to tell, Sherlock wanted coffee. I gave mine to him. He realised it tasted odd, we alarmed the doc and Sherlock tested it for signs of Death Cap. The flash test confirmed his theory. That's it."
"So… your generosity saved your life," Lestrade smiled.
"Probably," Sherlock answered.
"I'd never have tasted it and would have thought it was the meds that were playing havoc with my sense of taste and smell. They actually do," John added.
"Can you list what and when you ate the hospital food?… Every meal since you are in here?"
"Hmmm…." John looked into the air demonstratively innocent.
"The first time he was brought something to eat I made the nurse take it away, the smell was offending my senses, it was intolerable. Then John missed a meal due to sleep aids, then…."
"All in all I ate two dry potatoes from a tray."
Lestrade giggled.
"You're telling me you didn't eat? You two must be driving the nurses crazy."
"Maybe… Mrs Hudson provided roast beef and cake and pastries… even coffee," John explained.
Lestrade laughed when he finally understood why John hasn't starved.
"You're really a hard nut for the syndicate. Maybe they are trying to poison you for days and you evade all their efforts by accident and luck."
"Today though I was told I'd get a dress-down if I don't start eating properly."
"By whom?"
"The nurse aid the doctor spoke about earlier, Susan."
They discussed the event in detail until Mycroft came back with Dr Herald.
"Randomly chosen half eaten meals have been checked by a specialist, neither those samples nor John's blood work show any signs of poisoning. For Sherlock's it is too early to tell."
They had interviewed the nurse aid and almost all people that had their hands on the tray. Nothing important was found except the fact that a young woman had been seen in the kitchen last night, who had explained that she was the new aid and was never seen again after the preparation of breakfast.
"Well, maybe it was her and she was smuggled in to poison your meal, and is gone now. Since John's blood work fortifies the thesis we probably won't see her again," Lestrade wildcatted.
"Now the kitchen personal is watching the CCTV recordings so that we might get a picture."
John had sat there in relative silence, he was tired and guessed that Sherlock must be, too. He hadn't seen him sleep since they arrived here, and eaten….? Only some cake and a bit of the pastries occasionally. John was waiting for Sherlock to interrupt and demonstrate his abilities or at least make a biting remark about incompetence, but it never came. The doctor watched him listen to the conversations and frowned, this was not like Sherlock. Was he suffering side effects from the activated charcoal? Probably. He'd need some privacy to deal with that. The door opened and a nurse pushed another hospital bed into the room.
"What's that for?" Sherlock asked though it seemed obvious for everybody that it was for his comfort.
"You'll be monitored here tonight and when there are no complications tomorrow you'll move to a safe location," Mycroft explained in a strict tone that didn't impress Sherlock at all.
"I don't need observation."
"Yes you do!" Mycroft and John said almost simultaneously and Lestrade laughed once more. The nurse removed the cot from the room and vanished with Dr Herald.
"I will not sleep in… that!" Sherlock's mood worsened by the minute.
"Fine, don't sleep. But you'll be monitored," John added.
Mycroft left to investigate and hindered Sherlock to follow him. Lestrade also left to speak to security once more.
Just when John was thinking it was nice to have some minutes in peace the young male dark-haired doctor came in, who had been at night shift when John had the panic attack. John barely remembered him being there and read the nametag, Dr. Elil. He signed Sherlock to sit on the bed.
Sherlock shook his head.
"What do you think you are doing?"
"I need to connect you to some monitors and an EKG."
"That won't be necessary, you can go."
Now John was getting shirty, too.
"Bloody hell, don't be such a baby, Sherlock!" he jumped out of his bed and stood in front of him. They were still both wearing their sweat pants and showing a pretty dishevelled appearance. John observed Sherlock's posture and expression, and stared him in the eyes for a second. Sherlock was tired and in pain. The doctor hustled him towards the bed.
"Sit Down!" he pushed him down to sit on it, "And shut the hell up!"
Sherlock clenched his teeth and seemed to be in a snit.
"Open you shirt!" John ordered while taking the sensor pads from Dr Elil's hands who stood by with a mixture of awe and amusement.
John wasn't amused at all. The past days had been really stressful and bad. He had had nightmares about the incident itself, sometimes they mixed with memories of Afghanistan. He felt his PTSD wasn't getting better with this. Sometimes anxiety rose in his chest and he had to fight it down. Being bored and have nothing to divert himself added to the problem. This latest development also didn't help. Sherlock's behaviour added to his frustration and he knew he'd need some space soon. Somewhere not in this hospital room crowded with machines and people.
Sherlock had unbuttoned the shirt and John stuck the pads to his chest not too gently but with the ease of having done that a thousand times, then he snatched the cables from the monitor and hooked them with the patches. Sherlock had rebuttoned his shirt before the doctors had the first readouts on the monitors.
"Why don't you lie back and relax?"
Sherlock sat there in silence, a bit pale. John observed him again, lips puckered in thinking and a frown on his face.
"Sherlock, are you feeling nauseous?"
"No," the answer came far to fast for John's liking. He went and fetched a bowl from a shelf and placed it next to Sherlock on the bed.
"I'll not use that, it's disgusting."
"If you use the floor instead you'll clean it up yourself and you'll have to listen to me complaining all night about the smell… And be assured I'm already nearing a pretty pissed state here, Sherlock!"
Sherlock turned towards the young doctor who was still fumbling with the monitors.
"Go away!"
"And don't be rude to the people who's job it is to help," John hissed.
With an irritated gesture, Sherlock laid down on the bed and turned away from them, towards the door, like a recalcitrant child. The young doctor left.
John closed his eyes, counting to ten to cool down, then returned to his own bed and pulled the duvet over his legs. They were both tired and frustrated. This was gonna be a very long day.
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About half a silent hour later Mycroft returned and told them that the suspect was on tape and showed them a slightly distorted black and white picture, taken from a CCTV camera.
John had never seen her. Sherlock uttered the same but also that she seemed vaguely familiar nevertheless.
They discussed the matter of moving to a safe destination in the morning in detail. Afterwards Mycroft told them in specifics about the interviews with the stuff and the research.
John wondered at first why he did that but then understood that Mycroft saw that his brother was on the edge and that case details were the exact thing he needed. Being left out would probably push him over the edge soon, so Mycroft was trying to compensate. John smiled when he realised in awe this was a form of comfort… John had never thought it possible but Mycroft was actually helping. The older Holmes was comforting his little brother on purpose! Odd way to care. God, different set of rules… Mycroft knew what Sherlock needed and didn't fuss about it, but provided it.
John wondered why Sherlock hadn't stormed out of the room already, maybe he was too distracted to understand it. In the beginning of the conversation Sherlock was rude, but soon it turned into a solution-driven discussion.
The woman seemed to have been in the kitchen only for a short time, according to the camera footage. Even her arrival at the hospital could be spotted on the tapes, she wore a hospital staff uniform but wasn't filmed leaving. Mycroft had ordered two more of his men to come over to the hospital and guard the room constantly.
Sherlock demanded to get a weapon and to John's amazement the 'British government' opened his suitcase and handed him a small semi-automatic pistol and ammunition. Sherlock leaned over his bed and to even more amazement he held the weapon out for John to take it.
"Do you want me to put it under my pillow?" John asked with a grin.
"Yes," was Sherlock's plain answer. John giggled and put it into the bedside cabinet for starters.
"Actually I have another one."
Sherlock was handed another automatic, which he put under his pillow immediately.
"You two think she's still in here?"
"Yes," both Holmes answered.
"Great, that's great!" John sighed.
"You'll get out of here in the morning. A private nurse and doctor will be available at the accommodation any time and you'll be safe there," was Mycroft now trying to soothe him? That was so much out of character! He was in fact obviously worried.
"The guards have orders to let none in, except the staff they are familiar with, and you'll not leave this room without the company of one of them… is that understood, Sherlock? Mrs Hudson is gonna bring you something to eat."
"Yes, yes."
"How's Sarah?" John changed topics suddenly.
"I haven't seen her since I delivered her to the safe house, but she is guarded by my men and they reported she is fine. Not happy but not bad, either," Mycroft elaborated, "See you soon. I have some other things to do. I'll call if there are news. Good day." With that he turned away and left. As soon as he was gone Sherlock leaned towards the monitors he was connected to and turned all sounds they made off.
"Sherlock! Don't do that! That's there for a reason. I need to hear if it changes."
"Then look at the monitors, the noise is making me sick!"
"It's more likely you are nauseous because of the side-effects of the coal."
"No. Loud and unnerving noises do that, too. Especially if I try to rest. Altogether with the coal it is too much. Besides, if my heart stops there'll be an alarm at the nurse's station."
"Great." John cursed.
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A/N:
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