Chapter 3
In this chapter we will find out what is wrong with Sherlock! I watch Star Trek Into the Darkness earlier this week I actually really enjoyed it and all I can say is hello Mr Cumberbatch! I really hope that you like this chapter. Thank you so much for your reviews they mean so much to me. Please keep them coming I really want to know what you all think of this! I have reread this chapter and caught some spelling and punctuation errors but don't know that I caught them all. I am going to be looking for a beta for all future chapters. If anyone is interested please let me know, thank you!
Disclaimer
I still own nothing apart from the DVDS
"Well are you going to tell me what's going on?" John asked as Sherlock maintained a stony silence that he knew he was stubborn enough to keep up for hours or even days if he wished.
"You are a doctor John, make your own deductions," Sherlock responded in an unreadable tone.
John knew little of Sherlock's past but Mycroft and even Sherlock himself had hinted that he had dabbled with narcotics so naturally his mind went to that but it couldn't be. Sherlock had been doing so well and had shown no symptoms of being on drugs or craving any drugs, the only thing he had seen him crave was cigarettes.
He forced himself to see past the intense worry for his friend and actually think about this, afterall as Sherlock had pointed out he was a doctor. He looked again at the tablets in his hand they didn't look like any drug he had even seen but then he hadn't seen that many drugs and God knows what kind of drug Sherlock could deem necessary as part of some experiment. He looked closer at the pills they almost looked like...but they couldn't be, could they? How could he not have noticed? He was supposed to be a doctor! He looked closer at the tablets and saw the small engravings that confirmed the tablets' identity. How could he have missed this?
"You have arrived at a solution, lets hear it, it must be better than the solutions you have provided to how I survived," he said quietly.
"The tablets are Tegretol which are used to control seizures, most commonly used to control epilepsy, are you telling me that you are epileptic and you never told me?" John demanded as the reality of this set in.
"I haven't actually told you anything John," Sherlock corrected.
"How long have you had it?" he demanded ignoring his comeback.
"Long enough," Sherlock said almost icily John could tell he didn't like talk about this but frankly right now he didn't care.
"So you do have epilepsy?" John pressed.
"Yes, obviously," he snapped.
"So how long have you had it?" he asked again.
"Is that relevant?" Sherlock asked.
"I'd say so yeah," John answered.
"Fifteen years," Sherlock said evenly.
He had been suffering headaches for some time now, that in itself was not a cause for concern, he had always suffered bad headaches. He put this down to the fact that everyone kept trying to fill his mind with information that was of no importance to him and therefore distracted him from the things he felt he really did need to know. It took him hours to sift through everything that his mind retained and delete everything that was irrelevant leaving only the important things, it was no wonder he suffered headaches.
It was the other symptoms he was starting to display that were causing him concern. He found there were large amounts of time that he was unable to account for. He didn't like that he was always in control but he knew something was going on inside him that he couldn't control. The knowledge of that alone was almost as unsettling as the confusion he was experiencing.
He tried everything that he could to beat whatever was causing this but it was becoming harder to control he was starting to lose control of his thoughts at times. He experienced intense feelings of depression or euphoria that were often unlinked to what he was doing at the time. He was determined to beat this his mind was fast becoming his greatest asset he refused to allow anything to compromise it.
"Sherlock? Sherlock, what have you done this time?" a voice demanded standing over him. Sherlock willed his mind to clear so he could function and work out what was happening. Why was he on the floor and what was that smell? He frowned slightly as he realised he had vomited. What had happened to him. He was still struggling to think clearly, his thoughts felt jumbled and mixed up and not entirely his own. He wished that voice would stop, he needed to think!
He tried to get up slowly, as his thoughts were slowly starting to clear he realised it was Mycroft standing over him and that he was currently lying on the floor of his bedroom in a pool of his own vomit.
He swatted his hands away as he tried to help him up. "Leave me alone," he said alarmed to hear the slur in his voice.
"What is wrong with you Sherlock? What have you done?" Mycroft demanded trying to keep the worry out of his voice. He had seen his brother in a variety of states due to his 'experiments' but never anything like this. He had thought his brother was acting different lately but with Sherlock it was hard to tell. He had a feeling this was something more than one of his 'experiments' backfiring.
"What's wrong Sherlock?" he asked more softly as he was forced to accept his help to sit on his bed.
"Nothing, i'm fine," Sherlock uttered. He refused to answer any more questions on what had happened to him and how he could claim to be fine given the state he had found him in.
Eventually Mycroft had been forced to let the matter drop but he kept a closer eye on his brother regardless of Sherlock's open fury and demands that he left him alone.
It was after the second time he found Sherlock in the same position that he told their mother and against Sherlock's protests he was taken to hospital. He remembered little of the tests they ran on him and number of times they sent him home before the same thing happened again, before he was eventually diagnosed with epilepsy.
It was better once he knew what was causing his symptoms, it meant that he could do something about it. They tried him on many different types of medication before finding the one that worked for him. The medication allowed his mind to remain clear and lessened the seizures though failed to stop them completely. The diagnosis left him with one particularly irritating side effect, his brother now seemed to feel it was his job to look after him.
"This, well this actually explains a lot," John said looking at him.
"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked with an edge to his voice.
"Well I mean you have always been somewhat of a puzzle and this helps slot a few of those pieces into place," he answered.
"How so?" Sherlock asked dully.
"It explains long silences you have where you refuse to talk for days and the mood swings those are classic symptoms of absences or petit mal attacks," he answered. A look crossed Sherlock's features but John ignored it. "Are your seizures under control?" he asked.
"They have considerably lessened," he said.
"So you still take seizures and you never thought to mention it?" he snapped. "Does Lestrade know?" he demanded.
"Of course not, don't be stupid," Sherlock snapped.
"Sherlock do you have any idea how dangerous that is?" John exclaimed.
"Why i'm fine and you will not tell him," he said in a tone that made it clear it wasn't up for discussion.
He sighed. "Fine, I wont say anything but you really need to be careful," he said quietly.
"I am," he said simply. The look on his face told John that amazingly he did trust him, he was all too aware of how big a deal that was for Sherlock.
"Is that why you don't drive?" John asked suddenly. He had wondered why Sherlock didn't have a car especially after he had seen him drive. He had often thought it would be easier for him to drive given the nature of his work.
"Yes," Sherlock said in a forced calm tone.
"You know that you still take seizures yet you drove a car? Why didn't you let me drive?" John demanded.
"I wanted to drive," he said simply.
"You said you were in hospital you know after..." he trailed off a moment it still pained him to think of that time he had spent believing his best friend was dead.
"Yes," Sherlock reluctantly agreed.
"Was it for this? What are the doctors saying? How could I have missed this? I am supposed to be a doctor and your friend. How could I have missed this..what kind of doctor am I to have missed something this significant?" he asked concern lacing his features.
"Why are you making this all about you? You did not know because I did not wish you to know. Do not make this about your shortcomings, though I am sure you have many, your skills as a doctor is not one them. So please stop making this about you. I thought it was supposed to be me that was the arrogant one. I no longer wish to discuss this John, or should I say Doctor Watson based on how you are acting right now," he said.
John allowed himself a slight smile at that comment before continuing, "I don't care if you don't want to talk about it Sherlock. You have kept this from me long enough. We are going to talk about this whether you like it or not," he said firmly.
"Fine, but only the essentials," he said at last.
"You said you were just in hospital, was it because of this?" he asked.
"Yes," Sherlock said.
John bit down his anger as Sherlock refused to elaborate. He didn't care how much he didn't want to talk about it, this time he had no choice. "Why?" he asked forcing Sherlock to meet his eyes. Why with a man of Sherlock's great intellect fail to understand that he asked because he cared about him?
"They wanted to run some tests so they can change my dosage," he answered.
"Why?" John asked again trying to keep the worry out his tone.
"It's not as effective as it should be, obviously," he said as though it were obvious.
"Your seizures are becoming more regular?" he asked. How could he have missed this...what kind of friend and what kind of doctor was he? His mind flitted back to all the time he spent alone in his room when he thought he'd been working, shame flooded through him.
"Yes," he said.
"Have they come up with a suitable treatment plan? Look if you just took bloody better care of yourself maybe they would lessen more. If you would eat and sleep properly it would make a big difference surely they must tell you that and why the bloody hell didn't you tell me?" he demanded.
"You know why," he said mildly.
John sighed he knew it was because he knew he would fuss and worry about him but he was his friend of course he was going to worry about him. "I'm your friend Sherlock, of course I am going to worry," he pointed out.
"I already have a brother who fusses annoyingly over me for this I do not need another person added to that list, and that isn't the only reason I didn't tell you" he said in a clipped voice.
"Mycroft knows?" he asked in slight surprise though he wasn't sure why he was his brother afterall.
"Yes," he answered.
"Why else wouldn't you tell me?" he asked.
Sherlock sighed. "You did what I knew you would do, though you are not alone it is what everyone who has had to find out does," he said.
"What?" John asked confused.
"You take everything that I do and fit it into the epilepsy," he said bitterly.
"No I didn't," John protested.
"Yes you did, the driving though I suppose I will give you that one as it was the only one that was due to this, this condition but the others the way I act are nothing to do with the epilepsy. I will not be defied by it, those actions came purely from me," he said heatedly,
"I...you're right i'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that I was just...I was jut trying to work out how I had missed this, but you are right, i'm sorry," he said seriously.
"It's fine apology accepted now can we please move on?" Sherlock asked.
"In a minute, but first you need to promise me you will take better care of yourself and tell me what is going on with this so that I can help you and I promise not to fuss, too much, deal?" John asked.
"Deal," Sherlock said with a trace of a smile.
"Can I ask you one more thing?" John asked.
"If you must," he said with a slight smile.
"Were you ever going to tell me?" he asked.
"No, you are a doctor I figured if anything happened you would know what to do, a doctor for a flatmate has to have some advantages," he answered.
"You are unbelievable," John uttered as he met his eyes causing both of them to laugh.