Once the drug had worn off, Sherlock awoke to find himself back in his hospital bed and, even more disappointingly, in a new hospital gown. He attempted to jerk upright, only to find his wrists had been strapped down at his sides by a pair of thick leather bands. The man yanked at them with little success and grunted out loud, "You've got to be kidding me!"
"I don't think they are kidding around anymore," someone said from his side.
Sherlock craned his neck and spotted a rather disgruntled John looming over him with folded arms. "You're upset with me," the detective observed.
"Bloody right I am!" John hissed back. "I'm told Nurse Wretched had to use an animal tranquilizer on you."
"Well, technically speaking she didn't have to-"
"An animal tranquilizer! For the love of God, Sherlock, do you even realize how embarrassing your behavior has become for me? I was just sitting down to eat dinner when I get a panicked call from the hospital's front desk demanding that I come down immediately and talk some sense into you! And of course they failed to mention that you'd be in an induced coma for the following two hours, so yeah, waiting around for you to wake up again was sure fun as hell!" John stopped for a moment to take a deep breath and calm down some. "I signed up to be your flatmate," he went on, "not your babysitter."
Sherlock looked away. "You're being narrow-minded again," he sighed. "You and everyone else in this damned facility."
Neither of them spoke for some time. Finally John took a seat in the wooden chair beside Sherlock's bed. "I suppose you're going to say all this was because you were just trying to catch your infamous murderer red-handed," he murmured.
"What does it matter? Regardless of what I say, no one believes me. Even you called me a liar."
"...Those weren't my exact words."
Sherlock snorted. "May as well have been."
John exhaled slowly. "What if I could prove it?" he asked.
"Pardon?"
"What if I could prove it," the man repeated. "That what you thought you saw didn't really happen. Or at least not the way you think it did."
Sherlock met John's eyes suspiciously. "How so?"
"Well. You wanted to march over to that flat and investigate yourself, did you not? Suppose I went in your place."
"You wouldn't do that for me," Sherlock replied quickly.
"Hang on, let me finish," said John. "I'll make a deal with you. If I sneak into that poor bastard's flat and don't find any cause for suspicion, then you have to promise me you'll stop going on about what he supposedly did, and only do exactly what the doctors and nurses ask of you. No more talking back, no more refusing to cooperate, no more trying to sneak off on your own, got it?"
Sherlock mulled this over for a moment before responding, "And if you do find, say, the remnants of a lifeless body?"
"Then I'll do whatever you ask of me in order to put this bloke behind bars."
"And you'll sign off that I'm allowed to leave this place on the spot," Sherlock added hopefully.
"Don't push it."
Sherlock frowned harder than John had ever seen him frown before. "It isn't like this is going to solve anything. He was ready to dump the body hours ago, which you idiots likely let him get away with while I was unnecessarily drugged, and I doubt he's going to have the still-bloody knife lying around in his dish drainer."
"Well, there's nothing to be done about that now," John said. "It's this or waiting until you're released to investigate on your own."
Pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek, Sherlock glared for several seconds more before agreeing reluctantly. "Fine. I'd shake your hand, but seeing how-"
"Yes, yes, I've noticed," John said. The man stood up and walked over to the window at the room's opposite end. John pulled open the curtain and peered outside. "Which one is it?" he asked.
"Third from the top. Right in front of you."
They both watched in silence as the man in question walked into his living room, fished around for a nearby coat, and then flicked off the overhead light and disappeared through the doorway. John glanced over his shoulder at Sherlock, who still said nothing. He looked back to the opposite building. The suspect suddenly reappeared from a back door at ground level. John watched with interest as he reached the end of the alleyway where it merged with sidewalk. He clicked a button on his keys and got into a nearby vehicle before driving off.
With newfound determination, John made for the door. "Wait, you're going right now?" Sherlock called after him. "Just like that?"
John didn't either didn't hear Sherlock or chose not to answer. Instead he stopped in the doorway for a brief moment before going back to Sherlock's bedside table and pulling out the detective's mobile. John placed the device in Sherlock's right hand.
"Just in case," he explained.
"John."
John looked over his shoulder at Sherlock, who hesitated for a moment before saying, "Be careful." John nodded and exited the room.
-x-
It occurred to Sherlock that he wasn't entirely sure how John planned to break into the empty flat, but within ten minutes the lights came back on and sure enough, there was John, waving back at him like a berk. Sherlock wished he could reach the binoculars so as to keep a closer eye on his friend, but there was no way he could move his arms enough to pick them up, and they were just out of reach when trying with his mouth.
John walked back and forth through the flat for some time, peeking into closets, the fridge, and anywhere else he thought someone would hide homicidal evidence. At some point he gave up and called Sherlock, who had to put his mobile on speaker phone in order for them to hear each other.
"Place looks clean," John stated rather matter-of-factly.
"Well I didn't suppose he'd make it obvious enough for someone like you to figure out in one quick attempt, but points for trying," Sherlock replied waspishly. "Now hurry back before he returns and you find yourself in a spot of trouble."
John chuckled. "Know what? I think I'm actually going to stick around for a bit, enjoy myself. Consider it a part of the whole 'I told you so' experience."
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Please don't."
Ignoring him, John began fooling around with the suspect's stereo, and suddenly Sherlock could hear the YMCA song coming through the phone's receiver with a horrible, crackling quality. He considered hanging up, but was distracted by his flatmate, who had begun enthusiastically performing the number's traditional dance in front of the stranger's living room window. As the dancing became increasingly ridiculous, Sherlock struggled to decide whether he was amused or annoyed.
Eventually John grew bored of this and began fumbling about in the cupboards, where he found what looked like a bag of crisps. Still leaving the call connected, he set his mobile down on the coffee table and got comfy on the couch. Sherlock rolled his eyes and was about to hang up when he spotted the headlights of a car pulling in just outside his line of vision. Sure enough, the man who lived there was back from his quick errand, struggling to carry four paper grocery bags and talk into his own mobile's wireless headset at the same time.
"John," Sherlock said, raising his voice in hopes of being heard over the music that was still blasting. "John, I don't mean to alarm you, but your host is arriving sooner than anticipated. John! God damn it, John, are you listening to me?!" Starting to panic as soon as the third party vanished through the side door, Sherlock pulled against his bonds as hard as he could. "John!" he kept yelling into the receiver.
At long last the doctor seemed to become aware of his distress and clicked off the radio. "Sorry?" he asked, holding the mobile up once more. "Did you say something?"
"Yes! John, I need you to please put things back the way you found them and vacate the area immediately! Mr. Whatshisface is on his way up right now!"
"Oh, shi-" John cut himself off by disconnecting the call, and shoved the phone into his back pocket. Fists clenched, Sherlock watched nervously as John hurried to turn out the lights. The apartment went black, and mere moments later, the murderer entered the room, turning them on again. John was nowhere in sight.
Noticing he'd been holding his breath for some time now, Sherlock finally exhaled.