A/N: Yes, C&D go together. Most of these chapters are standalone stories all their own, but occasionally a couple of them might be continuations of one another. I'll be sure to let you know whenever that happens. Enjoy!
D. Debilitated Detective
I suppose it's unnecessary to say that Sherlock survives the stabbing. Of course he does. He's Sherlock. A mere knife inserted into his lung will not be the thing that takes him down. No, surely it will be far more complicated than that.
But sitting here, in the hospital room where Sherlock's sleeping away the week, it's not something I want to spend a lot of time thinking about. It was too close a call for comfort, and it doesn't bear consideration just yet.
Mycroft stands behind my chair, dark eyes on Sherlock, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He's been mostly silent. He's been in and out since Sherlock was admitted. I suppose he probably has some international disaster to look after or orchestrate and that's why he hasn't lived in one of these uncomfortable visitor's chairs like I've been doing. He doesn't explain when he leaves, I'm just left to assume.
And if it's actually because he's a little intimidated by all this, I can't really blame him. It seems to me he often feels responsible for Sherlock's well-being. I know how that feels. I've been in that place before, and it's not always the most comfortable. You're supposed to be there, to watch out, because you're older. Responsibility always falls to the older brother.