Okay, another chapter now up. I'm sorry for any errors (grammatical or medical) that I make. Enjoy!

Sherlock gave the room a careful look. He needed to make sure everything was just right, otherwise, his escape would fail, and alert Mycroft to his plans. He needed to get out of here, or he was sure to die of boredom. He allowed himself a thin lipped smile, before wiping it away, and arranging the bed covers, just right. Then he settled himself down, and waited. He was sure Harry wouldn't thank him for this mild manipulation. But it could hardly be called 'manipulation' as he had given her all the facts. Almost. He waved his thoughts aside. Hopefully he had judged Harry's nature correctly. He glanced at his watch. Five more minutes...

At a minute and forty two seconds past ten, Harry hurried in, and froze on the threshold. She stared at him for several seconds, the frowned. Sherlock raised his eyebrows, and gave a slight nod.

"Quick! He's gone!" Harry shouted, her voice a little rough.

Two of his four guards immediately rushed into the room, only to see Sherlock seated serenely on his bed. They glanced from Sherlock to Harry.

"She must be intoxicated." said Sherlock steadily, playing the slight uneasiness in his voice to perfection.

The guards turned to Harry.

"N-no! I'm not! He's lying, I swear!" she shouted angrily, shaking a fist at Sherlock. "Wait 'til I get you!"

The guards grabbed Harry by her arms, and dragged her down the corridor, towards the exit. Sherlock smiled, then drew out his phone, and pressed the screen. He then jumped a little clumsily out of bed, and wobbled to the doorway, unseen by the two remaining guards. He threw his phone down the corridor, just as it began to beep with a countdown. The two police officers heard the beeping, and saw something lying on the ground. They immediately rushed over, obviously being deceived into thinking it was some kind of bomb. Sherlock resisted from sniggering as he slipped down the corridor, and to freedom.

Harry was pushed out of the hospital, rather forcefully. She landed heavily, and then slowly picked herself up, ignoring the stares from passers by. The two police men had already disappeared back into the hospital, and she guessed she wouldn't be welcome for a few hours. She couldn't believe Sherlock had tricked her like that. Well actually, she could. It was just the sort of cheating, dirty, underhand thing he would do. That look of wide-eyed innocence on his face when he had accused her of being under, was one that would only fool the dimmest of police officers. Still, he had to deal with the other two guards. She half hoped he would succeed, because then she would be able to have a 'chat'. But if he failed, that wouldn't do his over large ego to much harm. She crossed to a nearby bench, and sat down, watching the doors of the hospital closely.

Sherlock slipped through the corridors of the hospital, graceful and catlike. He attracted a few stares. Wearing the white hospital pyjamas, and covered in bruises, he wasn't looking at his best. He winced slight with each step. His rib hurt, but it would not keep him in a hospital bed. He just needed to find Harry. She would be waiting for him. He was sure of that. But he needed to word his speech to her carefully, or he could end up with a few new bruises. From the little he had seen of John's sister, he knew she was violent, and quick to anger. But, she could be reasoned with. Hopefully. The alcohol obviously has something to do with it, and then, her nature obviously wasn't pacifist. He walked easily into the waiting room, which was already crammed full of people. A receptionist watched him with only mild interest as he passed through the doors of the hospital. He spotted Harry sitting on a bench, a little way from the doors. She had half risen, but as he turned his steps toward her, she sank back into a sitting position. Sherlock primly seated himself next to her, and then allowed the silence to stretch on. Eventually Harry either decided what to say, or calmed herself down enough to say it. Sherlock guessed by her clenched jaw, it was the latter. This was going to be unrehearsed.

"What do you want?" she said, voice tight with anger.

"I want the keys to my flat, if you please." said Sherlock lightly.

"What! After accusing me of being dunk? Why would I want to give you them? Your better locked up in the hospital."

Sherlock gave her a frown. Harry looked away, and failed to notice Sherlock slipping a hand into her pocket, and pulling out a twenty pound note. Stealing those badges from Lestrade had been good practise.

"Well obviously you weren't. Anybody could have seen that, if you were, there would have been more slurring and-"

"Okay, okay. I get the idea. Still, you could have warned me."

"Then you would not have preformed it correctly."

Harry raised her eyebrows, then fished around in her pocket, and hurled the keys at Sherlock. He caught them without blinking, and stood.

"I need to get changed out of these." he said, giving Harry a slight nod.

He strode to the road, and after several tries, flagged a taxi. Not many seemed keen to pick up a tall man in white clothes and covered in bruises.

Sherlock pushed the key into the lock of 221b Baker street. After a moment of struggle, he opened the door, and pushed inside, staying as silent as possible. Mycroft would soon know of his escape, and be on the look out for him. The first place he would look, was obviously the flat. Sherlock only intended to grab some clothes, and then leave, for one night at least. Sherlock certainly didn't intend to stay away from his flat for long. He rushed up the stairs, dodging the places that would creak. Then he opened his flat door, and walked cautiously in. A quick glance round told him that Mycroft hadn't planted any new cameras. He strode in, pushing the door shut with his foot. The folder he had sorted out the day before was lying on the sofa, where Harry had tossed it. And on the kitchen worktop was the bowl of human fingers she had gotten out of the freezer for him. Sherlock gave a slight grunt of content, and poured the fingers into a plastic bag, before sealing it, and then dropping it back on the work top. He then hurried into his room, and stripped out of the hateful hospital clothes.

A few minutes later he was standing by the door, long coat firmly buttoned up to his chin, and blue scarf wrapped round his neck. He had left a carefully calculated amount of evidence, not wanting to worry anybody. Harry would be questioned, and say that Sherlock went to the flat. The hospital clothes were discarded on the bed. He had also taken some money from John's wallet, which he had found in the kitchen table. His own was probably lying in some police office evidnece box, along with the clothes he had been wearing. He really would have to get another set... Slamming the door, he locked it, before rushing down the stairs and onto the street, flagging a taxi.

All done. I hope you guys enjoyed it. I want to get the plot moving a little faster now. Next chapter up in a week... ish. Advice always welcome