I Want to Know, Too

Mad Texter

I'm not rabid. Your rose bled me. -SH

Sherlock was sitting in his bed clicking the keys and ignoring Lestrade and Mycroft standing beside him. Molly was fine. Jim had not been able to be contacted to deny John's story. The yard was just now really being set out to find him. This disappointed Sherlock, but was distracted because Mycroft had handed him a phone that was meant for geriatric patients. It would only call the police and two other connected numbers: John and Mycroft. One number as far as Sherlock was concerned.

"Yes, you're welcome Sherlock. So glad I could make your stay better. Really it was nothing to hunt down a service that the hospital and the charming detective inspector Lestrade would allow." Mycroft tapped his umbrella in frustration at the end of every sarcastic sentence.

Thorns are meant to keep away pests. -JW

Mycroft and Lestrade continued to make word noise as he smiled at John's text. Words about Sherlock's current medical condition and even his drug problem. Sherlock paid just enough attention to catalog their true opinions while they believed him to be completely ignoring them. He felt slight surprise at the sincerity of Mycroft's concern over his brief allowance of morphine. Not Mycroft's political fake sincerity he so often heard, but tones of genuine concern.

They aren't working for Mycroft and Lestrade. -SH

Sherlock allowed a smirk at his own cleverness. Rather, he was smirking at the idea of getting a laugh out of John. It had been two days since the surgery on his ACL, which he had missed thanks to the wonders of morphine. Lestrade had insisted on a less powerful and less addictive painkiller. The pain was still there but it was dull and his mind was clear. John's visits had also been stopped while he was in recovery. Though he faked it for Sherry, he had not slept since the new medicine. All of this made the time between morphine and the cellphone seem like a long time.

Get your Fairy Godmother to fix that for you. -JW

Sherlock liked the idea of Sherry being a fairy godmother. She had brought him chamomile tea and scones when he complained about difficulty sleeping. After tea, he had pretended to take a nap to reassure her of her nurturing skills. She was just the tool to get the two men, now trying to one up each other on who had the more long suffering experience with Sherlock. Just one tap to the nurse before returning to the screen of the cell phone.

I may have to play Rip Van Winkle. -SH

Are there any cases of sleep texting? I have no internet access. -SH

Once the question hit him, it was maddening to have to wait to know an answer he should be able to research himself in a matter of seconds. Now he had to wait for John to slowly perform the search himself. This did not even account for the time possibly spent responding to texts to reassure the doctor that he really did want an answer.

Sherry appeared at the door to be a brief distraction from the nagging question. She purposely walked through the conversation between the two men to alert them to her presence—they had completely ignored her knock. Mycroft stopped telling Lestrade a story about Sherlock outing a gay boy in grade school that was sending the heart monitor into a fit. Sherry put down the chart she had just copied his data onto and bent down to his head.

"Why don't you pretend to take a little nap again while I get these gossips out of here?" She whispered for his ears only.

Sherlock smiled and sent a final text.

I'm serious. I expect a full report ASAP. -SH

Are you serious?-JW

The John's response to his original request text returned just as he hit send with the other text. John would think he had lightning fast reflexes. He flipped off the phone and slid under the covers to play his best Van Winkle. Sherry informed them that their presence was increasing Sherlock's blood pressure. She had to reassure Mycroft as she escorted him out that Sherlock was not tired from any new drugs. With a final wink at Sherlock, she shut the door to his room.

The heart monitor had been set to silent, unless within a certain range. So now the room was very still and quiet. He imagined John cursing him while sitting at a computer searching articles on sleep texting. Informal sources first, such as blogs and internet magazines. Then he would roll his eyes at the thought of Sherlock demanding to know his sources and begin to seek out more professional journals and newspapers. Sherlock felt the tiring pull of sleep for the first time since the morphine. If he had felt any of the warmth, he would have suspected Sherry had slipped him more of the drug.

Sherlock rolled to face the phone which sat next to the lillies. John's original hand written text lay beside it. The little dot of blood had dried to a dark red. The little dog rose was beginning to look wilted as it drooped down over the side of the glass vase of the lilies. The sunset was visible through his window. The sunlight hit him directly in the face. Sherlock closed his eyes against the light.

Sherlock unclosed his eyes to see a still well lit sky.

A noon sky.

"It looks like that Dr. Watson is the most effective drug for Mr. Holmes."

"I'd say he's already addicted."

Sherlock sighed in annoyance of the laughter coming from Anderson and Donovan at their own jokes.

"What's so funny?"

The Detective Inspectors voice came from beyond the room. Anderson and Donovan's shoes scraped the floor as they likely scuffled to make distance between them.

"Sherlock took in quite a breath a moment ago. Maybe he's finally waking up."

"About time, too. 16 hours is a bit much."

"Oh, shutup. We had to shoo nurses away to get him this sleep. They wanted to wake him up for blood tests not an hour after he finally went to sleep. We've been beating the wolves off; he seems to only remember anything after a long sleep."

Sometimes Lestrade could surprise him. After only three occurrences Lestrade had managed to see a pattern. However, Sherlock suspected the morphine had been a helper as well.

"Sherlock."

Lestrade was leaning over him and touched his arm. Sherlock began to fake a slow, tired awakening.

Deep breath. Slight groan. Flutter eyes. Wince at light. Groan again. Open one eye.

"Detective Inspector. Fancy meeting you here."

Sherlock made movements to sit up.

"Stay down. They're going to bring you lunch soon. While you're eating, see if you have anymore information about that Moriarty character."

Lie down and eat?

"Thanks, I'll do that."

Sherlock waited until Lestrade had shooed away the two watchmen, no doubt volunteers after learning of Sherlock's mini coma. When the door shut, he snatched the phone up. The bright screen greeted him with several minutes of reading material from John.

You should try getting some sleep. -JW

Turns out there is some sleep texting. Suspected real sleep texting is mostly babel though. Anything meaningful is thanks to usual sleep amnesia. -JW

Damn, these kids need to sleep, too. This study says they exchange text every hour or so during night -JW

Are you finally asleep? The Fairy Godmother cast a spell on you? - JW

Dropped off some scones from Mrs. Hudson. Resupplied your flower. -JW

A new crisp dog rose stood in place of the wilted one he went to sleep with.

Ha. Love you too, sleep talker. -JW

Sherlock scoffed. He could count on one hand the number of times he had said that as an adult. Most of them had been lies.

It's not nice to lie to people in hospitals. -SH

John must have been at lunch, because the answer was quick. The blond nurse, Jill, had brought in a tray of food.

Awake? Can't even deceive you in text format, eh? -JW

People had a bad habit of stating the obvious. Was it not John that just sent him information that sleep texting was not possible? Sherlock had lectured him enough about talking about the weather. That had not stopped him. No need to waste time texting about stating the obvious. Jill told him to put the phone away so he could eat and reminded him that food was necessary for living and other obvious facts. He put on his best charming smile and proceeded to spoon the chowder she had brought. The smile caught her of guard and she blushed and quickly left. Sherlock picked up the phone and began his reply.

Knowing you, not a big lie. What did I say? -SH

Sherlock had little experience with being exposed to other people while sleeping. He had few roommates in his life and no lovers. No one was around to test him for sleep talking.

I told you about Mrs. Hudson's scones. You said, "I love scones." Made Mrs. Hudson VERY happy. -JW

The thought of Mrs. Hudson's scones again made the chowder taste even blander. He did love those scones. He took a sip of the bitter tea and dry toast that came with lunch. Hopefully Sherry would sneak him another tea time today.

I suppose my secret is out. I'll be home in a few days. I need to get after Moriarty, the police are doing a pathetic job.-SH

They didn't trust my vague information. Your site was cryptic. Why didn't he kill us?-JW

I want to know, too. Why a bomb? Why not just use the snipers? -SH

These are things we will address soon. And scones. -SH

My experiments better not be out of place. -SH

Don't worry. I have not done any cleaning since my return. -JW

Sherlock was tired of the hospital. His memories needed a little extra push during his REM sleep to come back to him. A non restricted phone was needed get in contact to resupply him with what the doctor denied him. On his way home he would get a nicotine patch. Even if he had to rip it off Lestrade's arm.