...Hi. I have heard your cries. I hope this satisfies anyone who still remembers they followed this fanfic from many years ago. I went and reread this fic, and I'm not exactly happy with some things. I will try to pull this together, but no promises.
"Sherlock Holmes, return what Dr. Watson has given you at once."
John's music hypnosis ended abruptly. Dr. Anderson stood furiously at the door, two security guards towering beside him, and Molly cowering sheepishly behind.
Sherlock glared at the hospital director and did not change stance, only paused his bow mid stroke. His eyes flared briefly, the first sign of life within them, with every dagger he had to throw at the man who had made the call to confine him all this time.
"Ah, so you finally decided to pay me a visit. After all this time…" Sherlock began. John noticed Sherlock's rage boiling. He tried to intervene.
"Dr. Anderson, I can explain-"
"Return what Dr. Watson has given you at once," Dr. Anderson repeated through his teeth, ignoring John.
Sherlock Holmes lowered his bow slowly, but kept the violin to his chin. He let out a single, soft laugh. "So, it isn't enough to lock me up. Not even enough to confine me. No stimulus, no visitors, not even a proper doctor..."
"Again, Sherlock, I am not the one who locked you up," Anderson responded dryly. "You did it to yourself-"
"You were, however," Sherlock interrupted, finally lowering his violin, "The one who gave the order to have me locked in solitary and never released."
The hospital director glanced to the side to relieve his uneasiness for a moment, but to no avail.
"Well, the doctor knows best, right?" Sherlock mused. "Although, that seems pretty illegal to indefinitely confine someone. This is supposed to be a hospital, yes?" he inquired mockingly.
"Yes," Anderson replied, trying his best to sound imperturbable. "A hospital with rules, and when you break them, there are consequences. Return the instrument." He pointed at the floor on his side of the bars.
"Rules?" Sherlock scoffed. "You're the last person who should talk to anyone about rules. Donovan having second thoughts about the affair you two are having, yes?"
Anderson's heart beat faster. "What are you talking about?" He ignored the judgemental glances he felt at the back of his neck, but was beginning to lose control over his voice.
"Could you be more obvious, doctor, I mean really. There clearly seems to be a lot of trouble at home, a fight just this morning over a pot of coffee. Freshly groomed and shaved, brand new suit and recently shined shoes. No wedding ring on, even when wearing it never bothered Donovan enough to not cheat with you anyway. Clearly she has expressed hesitation with your relationship and you're doing your best to impress her and win her back. Perhaps trying to convince her that you're ready to leave your wife, or maybe just convince yourself that you really love her and aren't just using her to ignore the deepening hole in your marriage-"
"That's enough!" Anderson bellowed. "Disarm him and get him in the jacket," he directed the guards, with no response.
"I mean, come on, seriously?" Sherlock continued. "An affair with your secretary? Dull. How utterly boring and predictable can you get?"
"If I hear one more word out of you, I swear you won't get food for days," Anderson buzzed in rage. John glanced at his boss with suspicion and disapproval. You can't treat a patient like that, he thought.
Sherlock seemed to have read Dr. Watson's mind when he tilted his head and said, "Doctors are supposed to care for their patients...There's sweat on your forehead," he examined further. "You're avoiding eye contact, there is an increase in your breathing and heart rate, and a slight tremor in your hands… all clear signs of fear."
Sherlock jolted forward and grabbed the bars, his eyes instantly burning with life. "What could possibly have you afraid, doctor?" He cackled in amusement when the whole room was startled by his sudden energy.
Even John wasn't expecting it and jumped a little. Sherlock hadn't seemed prone to outbursts. Is he faking? John thought. He hasn't shown such volatility before now…Or was he faking when I met him? What if I was completely wrong? Did I make a horrible mistake?
Dr. Watson pushed his doubts aside when he noticed Sherlock's loosened grip on his violin because of his clutch on the bars. Sherlock's full attention was on Anderson's reaction to his taunting. Without even thinking, John put his hand through to the other side of the bars, snatched the violin out of the patient's grasp, and pulled it back through the bars to safety.
Sherlock, annoyed at having lost the prized violin he had missed for so long in a moment of distraction, stepped back swiftly and raised his bow at John like a fencer ready to strike.
"Taking his side now, are we? Typical," Sherlock sighed. "You doctors are always the same. Dissecting your patients' minds with no ethical dilemma, but fleeing in terror and plastering them with diagnoses when treated with the same courtesy."
John Watson looked straight into his patient's eyes. "Never have I, nor will I, run from you, Sherlock. I'm here to treat you, and that's exactly what I'm going to do." John eyed the bow Sherlock was still wielding. "However, if you don't return the bow, I'm not sure what I will be able to do for you. Please, hand me the bow, and we will go from there."
Sherlock hesitated, and glanced at Anderson before handing the bow reluctantly, but gently to Dr. Watson. Observing Sherlock's side glance, it seemed to John that Sherlock's quick surrender was not because of a strange bond with his newly assigned doctor, but a bitter retaliation against his captor.
"Jacket, now." Anderson ordered the guards, trying to keep his trembling voice steady. The guards listened this time, storming into his cage wearing all the riot gear John imagined they were allowed. They wrestled him into submission, stuffing the straight jacket they were carrying onto Sherlock.
"My office, now," Anderson spat, his voice shrill. "The both of you."
John glanced at Molly, her face red in embarrassment. "Sir, I assure you, this was all me, she had nothing to do-"
"The both of you," Anderson repeated, and turned to leave. Dr. Watson and Ms. Hooper followed, beginning to wonder if they still had their jobs.
Sherlock, struggling on the floor with both arms now in the jacket, called out, "Why do you think the head doctor of this place isn't treating the most famous and difficult patient? Why would he hire a green psychiatrist to treat a patient even he couldn't get a grasp on? Ask him, Dr. Watson!" Sherlock's laughs echoed through the North Wing, sending chills down Anderson's spine.
John glanced back towards the open cell door with guilt heavy in his heart. Something didn't seem right at this place.
"Ask hi-" the patient's repeated words were cut off by what sounded like a gag being shoved into his mouth. Anderson never looked back and kept his stride without a word.
I hope you enjoyed this very long awaited update. (Hopefully), more to come. Leave a review and let me know what you think!