A/N: Thank you so much for the subs, faves and reviews.

ScholarofImagination: Thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter.

RoseJustice: I highly recommend. The journal is quite fun and a little challenging.

Icecat: Probably why they didn't though, couldn't have him loopy so much. =)

Sherlock had been put into the hospital-again. His umbrage for his friend's escape act was only matched by actions of his wife. He'd not spoken to Mary since Sherlock's collapse at Baker Street. John had decided to stay at his old lodging until he could work out whatever the hell he was suppose to do now.

Tonight, rather than stay in oppressive silence (except for the humming of Mrs. Hudson who was cleaning and sanitizing the kitchen), John walked around the streets of London. It had been close to midnight when he found himself standing in front of the hospital where Sherlock was no doubt climbing the walls. It was luckily that on top of being a doctor, Mycroft had the pull so that he could visit Sherlock whatever the hour. The detective had been moved from ICU to a private ward on the fourth floor since his surgery to repair the internal bleeding that had come from gallivanting all over London.

When the elevator doors opened to that particular floor, he noted that the nurses were all seated at their desk, two with their feet up, with a doughnut in one hand, and a coffee in the other. They righted themselves when they saw John.

"Ah-hello, Doctor Watson!" an older blond woman with more wrinkles than was probably fair for her age sputtered, "How are you this evening?"

"Fine, thanks. How's Sherlock?"

"Mr. Holmes is resting comfortably." A dark-skinned male nurse with the name-tag "Roger" replied after a sip of coffee. "That journal of his seems to be warding off some of his...impatience about staying in the hospital."

"You know, he was the one that got us these," Another lithe looking ginger woman whose name was Ellie continued and held up the doughnut, "He wanted office supplies for his journal in exchange. We weren't about to refuse. I suspect that his brother had something to do with it too."

"Well, you all enjoy, and save me one if there's any left," John laughed, "Is he awake?"

"Last time we checked, Doctor Watson." Ellie responded, "I hope he has more of those journal entries, it might help keep him out of trouble."

"You have no idea how much trouble that journal has gotten him into." John groaned before he thanked them and headed to Sherlock's room.

True to their word, Sherlock was sitting upright in bed, with the tray filled with staplers, paper clips, tape, post-it notes, and other items close by. Sherlock was just about to glue down a pencil when he looked up, "Good evening, John. You're here rather late."

"Good..." he paused and looked around at the hallway awkwardly, "good. Having fun with your project?" He inquired and stepped closer to look at the page which read, Fill this page with office supplies.

Sherlock shrugged, "keeps me busy." He was placing paper clips and nail files in a mathematics pattern that John could not remember ever studying.

John could not help but allow a small smile. Sherlock seemed to be returning to his ordinary annoying self. Sherlock's movements were still slow, but gradually returning to the detective.

flipping over a few pages, John read the next entry:

Do a really ugly drawing of an really ugly subject matter.

John watched as Sherlock filled in the page with flowers, sunshine, smiley faces, and in one corner, scout helping an old woman across the road.

"Really Sherlock, that's nice!" John snorted.

Much to John's annoyance, Sherlock began to peel off the medical stickers plastered to his chest as he flipped through the pages.

"Sherlock, what the bloody hell are you doing?!" John demanded, bolting to from his seat to force Sherlock's hands away from them.

Sherlock nodded to the page which read, Fill Page with Sticky Things.

"I don't think they meant heart monitor stickers, Sherlock," groused, while sitting back in the visitor's chair. "Look, I'll get you a lolly from the kid's ward, or a damn stick of gum, but don't take those things off. Why don't you get some kip? It's well past 1 am and you need to be resting or your brother just might chuck me in the Tower of London." He pushed aside the tray table, but took up the journal in his hands, remembering an entry that would be perfect.

"Here, you can do this one tomorrow morning." It said: Sleep with the journal, record the experience here.

Sherlock huffed, and turned over with the book in his hand, while John wished him goodnight, and shut off the overhead light.

The next morning, John awoke to find the journal on the exact page held open by a stapler. It read, in big letters.

"SLEPT 6 HOURS, NORMAL PATTERN OF REM SLEEP. BORING."

Chuckling, John looked over to find the detective still asleep.

TBC...

A/N: Do you want to hear something funny? I actually did that! I put my heart monitor stickers from my cardiologist appointment into the "Sticky Things" entry of the WTJ.