Okay, this is going to be the last of the boring chapters. I hope your enjoying it thus far.
Sherlock sat, arms crossed. Harry Watson should be arriving any moment. With the case files. At least he could do something while confined to his bed. Even though he was planning to leave the next day. He gently figered the bandage that was wrapped around his broken rib. That was by far the worst of his injuries. The rest was simply bruising and minor cuts and scrapes. The door swung open, and Harry appeared, staggering slightly under a heavy folder.
"Here, the files that were on your desk, if you can call it that." she said, dumping them on the bed side table.
Sherlock nodded, snatching a piece of paper from the middle, and gestured that Harry should sit. This she did.
"How's John?" he asked, scanning the paper.
"Fine, thanks to you." she admitted. "The surgery was successful, and he should wake up in a few days."
Sherlock didn't respond, examining the paper. It contained a very limited amount of information on Chinese smuggling gang he and John had disbanded a while back.
"So when will you be allowed out of here?" asked Harry, trying to make conversation.
"Hmm, what? Officially, I'll be out next week."
"Officially?"
Sherlock lowered the paper, and gazed at her for a moment, before returning to reading.
"Well obviously I'm not spending all that time here. I've got to catch Moriarty before it's to late."
"But what about your brother? You promised."
"He promised to let me see John, yet I have been informed I'm not allowed to leave this room. Our 'deal' is off."
Harry stayed silent, watching as Sherlock pulled a few more sheets of paper from the folder, then crumpled one and tossed it onto the ground.
"Do you mind if I stay?" she asked.
"No, I probably wont talk though."
"That's fine. I feel a bit lost at the moment..."
An hour later, and the floor was littered with crumpled papers. Sherlock was still sorting his way through the folder. So far, he had only kept about twenty pages. He scrunched another sheet up, and tossed it towards the door, where a pile was steadily growing.
"Moriarty masterminded all sorts of crinimal enterprises. Smuggling, serial killers, all sorts. He had such an extensive network that nobody ever got to him." said Sherlock, speaking the first time in an hour.
"Huh?" said Harry, rather unintelligently.
Sherlock handed her a stack of papers.
"Crumble these." he said, tossing them onto her lap.
"And chuck them around the room?"
Sherlock looked up and surveyed the room.
"It wont make any difference, but do it quietly."
Harry scrunched up the papers, and dropped them onto the floor.
Half an hour later, the nurse appeared with lunch for them both. She cast a disproving eye round the room and huffed.
"What have you been doing?" she demanded, laying the food on the table.
"Working." muttered Sherlock, ignoring the food. "Don't clean it up, I'm not done. Leave."
The nurse huffed again and left the room.
And another hour later, Sherlock was going through the final few files. Harry had eaten his lunch, and was still sitting in the chair, feeling a little stiff. There was a knock at the door, and Sherlock looked up as it opened a crack.
"Mr. Holmes? There's a woman wanting to see you."
"Who is it?" asked Sherlock.
"Say's her names Sarah -"
"Let her in, I know her." said Sherlock impatiently.
A second later, Sarah walked cautiously into the room. She waded through the papers, and sat opposite Harry. They exchanged suspicious smiles, and then the room lapsed into silence. A minute later, after Sarah had finished examining the full extent of the crumpled papers Sherlock had thrown away, she turned to him.
"Hi, how are you doing then?" she asked.
"Fine." snapped Sherlock, throwing another paper at the door.
Another cautious glance at Harry from Sarah.
"I'm Harry Watson, John's brother." she said, feeling an explanation was needed.
"Sarah, John's... erm... friend." said Sarah, nodding slightly.
"I guess you know Sherlock then?" asked Harry.
"Only slightly, we met once..." Sarah trailed off.
Another silence.
"So, what are you doing?" asked Sarah.
Sherlock shot her a cold look.
"Sorting out."
"Oh, right. Obviously."
Sherlock carefully placed the last file onto his pile of about fifty papers, and placed them in the folder, then sat back and examined Sarah and Harry with a contented twitch of the lips.
"Any reason your here, Sarah." he asked, grey eyes reading her soul.
"I actually wanted to know what happened... I mean, obviously something did. Otherwise you and John wouldn't be in hospital."
Sherlock sighed in a long suffering way.
"John and I were hunting down a bomber. We went to a swimming pool, and got blown up."
"Oh."
"John's going to fine, Sherlock's paying for the treatment." said Harry, seeing Sarah frown.
"Mycroft, actually." snapped Sherlock.
"Oh right, Mycroft...?"
"My brother. British government."
Another awkward silence.
"I'm surprised they let you in here." said Harry, grasping at straws.
"Well, they wouldn't let me see John. There's three guards outside his room. So I thought I would see how Sherlock was..."
"How many guards outside my room?"
"Four."
Sherlock's lips twitched again, and he gazed intently at the door.
"Then escaping will be easy. I need your help, Harry."
"Escaping?" asked Sarah.
"Yes, Sarah, escaping. Do you really think I would sit here while a crazy bomber runs around London, trying to kill John and me? Much better to go out and get him, before he gets us."
"What do you need me to do?" asked Harry.
"Oh, just come in here at ten tomorrow, and say that I've disappeared."
"Right." Harry checked her watch. "I really should be going anyway."
"Of course, if you go back to the flat, can you take the fingers out of the freezer?"
"Fish fingers?" asked Sarah, sounding a little unsure.
"No."
Harry nodded, and hurriedly left the room.
All done. Next chapter, Sherlock shall make his escape, and starting looking for Moriarty. I'm begging you to review! It's feeling rather lonely at the moment...