The night was dull at Baker Street. Sherlock had nothing to do, but at least John was with him.
Sherlock had a cup of tea in his hands. John had refused all offered to him; which was a little concerning. "John, are you alright? You haven't had anything to eat or drink all day…"
"Isn't it usually me who asks you that?" John laughed, "I'm fine Sherlock, don't worry." The noise of footfalls on stairs filled the air in the flat. "Who could that be? It's much too late for a client…" John continued.
The door swung open to reveal… John. Standing in the door way. Sherlock's face drained off all colour. He looked back at John's chair and saw… John. Two Johns?!
"Sherlock… Are you alright?" The John by the door asked.
"Do you have twin?" It was worth a notion. It obviously wasn't the most likely explanation, but the others were more than a bit not good.
"No… I don't, Sherlock…" What was the matter with Sherlock?
"The crime scene! I heard whispering that wasn't there…"
"Sherlock it's ok…"
"Did you come here yesterday? Were you with me in the lab today?!" Sherlock became more agitated.
"No… I wasn't there, Sherlock…" John was concerned. There was a lot that could cause hallucinations.
"I… I… don't think I'm ok…" Sherlock confessed.
"I need you to tell me honestly Sherlock; are there any other symptoms, or just the audio and visual hallucinations?"
"Just the hallucinations," Sherlock confirmed.
"We are going to the hospital and getting you an evaluation. I don't want to argue Sherlock because it is important that you seek medical advice and have some tests."
"Fine." Sherlock's eyes were wide. John remembered the Baskerville case; Sherlock was convinced he couldn't trust his senses then and it obviously freaked him out a bit.
"Shall I call Mycroft?" John asked. Sherlock only nodded. There was no point staying there waiting if Sherlock's brother could speed up the process (even if it wasn't strictly moral). "Ok, I'll do it after we get a taxi…"
…
The taxi ride was silent. Sherlock was devoted to trying to remain calm. John didn't want to push him into talking if Sherlock was feeling uneasy.
They soon reached the hospital, thanks to the surprisingly efficient cabbie. Sherlock and John strolled through the doors; the only reason they hadn't gone quicker was the fact that Sherlock was hesitant and John was more focused on getting him through the doors rather than the speed at which they did so.
The receptionist had a dead-eyed, intimidating stare which seemed to agitate Sherlock slightly. "Sherlock Holmes – he's having both audio and visual hallucinations." John stated.
"Ah, Mr Holmes. As soon as the doctor is free he'll send you through," she directed the question at Sherlock who did not answer. "Ok, have a seat…"
John guided Sherlock to a vacant chair, but noticed that Sherlock's line of vision was fixed on a door and his eyes were open slightly wider than usual. "You ok?" he asked.
"I know it's just in my head… It has to be… But it looks so real…!" Sherlock's voice trailed off.
"What are you seeing?" John asked.
"You, in surgical scrubs…"
"Well that doesn't sound too bad," John smiled.
"… Covered in, I would estimate to be, eight pints of blood…" Sherlock continued.
"Ok, that's not so great…" John admitted.
"You're looking like a bit of a psychopath…" Sherlock commented.
"I hope you mean your hallucination of me," John smirked, trying to add humour to their situation.
"Of course I do…" Sherlock could not take his eyes off the sinister John that stood drenched in blood, cackling insanely. He couldn't imagine John acting or looking like that… Well, he must be able if his subconscious fabricated it.
About ten minutes of hearing blood-covered-John cackling was too much. Sherlock instinctively covered his ears – not that it would do any good as the cackling was inside his head. "Are you sure you're ok?" John asked innocently.
"It's just in my head, it's just in my head, it's just in my head…" Sherlock kept repeating. The whole waiting room consisted of people staring at Sherlock or trying to avoid staring at him.
"Sherlock Holmes!" the doctor called.
"Thank God for that…" John muttered.
He guided Sherlock into the room and shut the door behind them. Sherlock sat down, rapping his arms around himself.
"So, I understand you're hallucinating Mr Holmes…" Sherlock nodded. "Have you suffered any trauma recently?"
"Lots." Was the answer Sherlock provided. John was shock; not once had he thought of what Sherlock might have gone through during his time away.
"Any to the head?"
"Nothing major," Sherlock's eyes started to dart around the room.
"What's wrong Sherlock?" John asked.
"Watching. Always Watching. Can't do anything, he'll see…" Sherlock mumbled.
"Who'll see?" the doctor asked.
"Big brother! Can't let him know!"
The doctor looked surprised. "Sherlock… This is important," John began, "do you mean Mycroft? Are you with us?"
"The government. British government."
"Are you with us Sherlock?"
"There always watching. I hate being watched!"
"Paranoia," the doctor noted, "most definitely a psych. case."
"A psychiatric case?!" John couldn't believe his ears, even if it was obvious. Sherlock had been called insane; but John never thought that it would ever be true.
"Yes, Dr Watson. I'll get someone to take him to the psychiatric ward now, and he'll have an evaluation in the morning…"
"John, you take me. You aren't scary; you don't work for them. You'll keep me safe! Not drugged; never drugged!" Sherlock seemed to start calming down in John's presence.
"Someone will have to take you, Sherlock. I don't know the way."
"I could show you quickly…" the doctor offered, "We won't have to call someone then."
"If you don't mind. Sherlock, that ok?"
"If you stay with me. I don't trust him." Sherlock began to pout.
"Don't worry, Sherlock. I'm not going anywhere."
"Follow me." The doctor ordered.
The two obeyed and swiftly came to the psychiatric ward. It was plain and beige; not interesting at all.
"You ok, Sherlock?" John asked.
"Yes John, I'm fine!" Sherlock insisted.
"Oh good, you're back with us," John sighed, relieved.
"What is the matter John?"
"You had a paranoid episode…" John informed, "Which means that your problem is psychiatric."
"Oh, great! Please tell me I didn't say anything extremely embarrassing…"
"You ranted about big brother watching you and that you didn't trust the hospital staff; but that's pretty ordinary for paranoia."
"Brilliant…" Sherlock muttered.
The room was clinical and boring. Beige was and a white tiled floor. Nothing of interest. "Just get some rest," John advised, "you have to have an evaluation tomorrow…"
"So they can diagnose me…" Sherlock added.
"Yes. And I need you to behave. Don't joke around and don't pretend to be a psychopath or anything like that. Just be polite and answer the questions truthfully."
"John, I'm insane, not an idiot." Sherlock sighed. It was going to be a long night.