They moved Sherlock two hours later, John trailing behind wearily as Christian pressed the up button on the lifts.
"How many floors up are we going?" Asked John. Christian pulled Sherlock's bed into the elevator, Carter the nurse following suit, with John bringing up the rear. The doors closed, and the lift started its ascent.
"Fourth floor is set up a little differently to most wards; it's more for our longer term residents who require more specialised care. Mycroft has paid for Sherlock to be put up in the largest room we've got, and is paying for the other half of the room for you to stay in. Usually there are two patients to a room, but in this case, you'll be in there. It's unorthodox, but we believe it to be the best option at the moment," said Christian.
"Sounds fine by me." The lift doors opened, and John immediately noticed the difference between the fourth floor and the first floor where they had been earlier. The floors were tiled instead of covered in linoleum, the walls a warm cream colour instead of the customary stark white. Carter exited first, leading the way.
"Nurses station to your left," commented Carter, after they'd passed two private rooms. Each had a viewing window, similar to ICU, but the rooms were much larger.
"And this is Sherlock's room. Biggest room, two beds, adjoining bathroom. We've had your bed swapped out with a regular bed, seeing as how you're not a patient," said Christian.
"This… this is incredible. Thank you," said John quietly.
"Thank Mycroft, his credit card is paying for all this," said Carter. He set up the blankets for a transfer, and with Christian's help, transferred Sherlock to the clean bed.
"We've got all the same monitors as we did in ICU, so we can be there as soon as something changes," assured Carter.
"We're going to monitor him for a few hours then we'll take him to surgery. Neuro can wait for a little while for Sherlock to stabilise before subjecting him to their tests. We'll get him sorted out John, it just might take a while," said Christian. He glanced up, and realised John was swaying on his feet. Christian stepped forward and steered John towards the bed.
"You need rest. We're here, and we'll wake you if you're needed," reassured Christian softly. John kicked off his shoes, his eyes barely open before he slumped sideways, out cold. Christian covered him with a blanket then motioned for Carter to leave with him.
"I want fifteen-minute obs on Sherlock, and his blood glucose checked at the same time. Try and avoid waking John where possible. Surgery is scheduled in two hours; I want him to be as stable as possible before we move him." Carter nodded
"Got it. We'll look after him Chris. Get some rest."
Sherlock woke up an hour later, when Carter was taking blood.
"John?" He asked, slurring in his still half-asleep state.
"He's in the bed next to you," said Carter, moving aside so Sherlock could see.
"Oh. Thank you," whispered Sherlock.
"You're going down to surgery in an hour to fix up the damage cause earlier. John will still be here when you come back from surgery, okay?" Reassured Carter.
"Okay," mumbled Sherlock. He drifted back off to sleep, the sound of John's gentle snoring lulling him to sleep.
Half an hour later, Hannah and Tim were up on the fourth floor, checking on Sherlock before taking him down for surgery.
"Carter, how's his blood glucose level?" Asked Hannah. Carter handed her the file.
"It's fluctuating a little, but we're adjusting his glucose as required. He's burning it off faster than we can put it in," he answered.
"That's normal. He's not eating at the moment, so his body is struggling to regulate. After tonight's surgery we should be able to get him eating again, and start to balance everything out," said Hannah.
"Fingers crossed. Probably need to let the anaesthetist know that Sherlock's been burning sedation off much faster than expected, so you probably need to keep an eye on him during surgery," added Carter.
"Noted. Tim, do you need to see Sherlock before we take him down for surgery?" Asked Hannah. Tim opened his mouth to answer, when alarms sounded at the desk.
"That's Sherlock's room," said Carter, vaulting himself across the desk and into Sherlock's room. John was standing next to Sherlock, pushing the lanky man into the recovery position as he seized violently.
"Lorazepam, now! Tim, we need to take him to surgery now while the Lorazepam is working; you don't want to be doing this surgery while he's seizing," said Hannah, moving in to hold Sherlock on his side.
"You're right. I'll organise theatre now, and we'll get him down there as soon as the seizing stops." Tim ducked out of the room, leaving Hannah with John.
"This is insane. What the hell is going on?" Asked John.
"Could be a side-effect of the altered insulin, brain injury, increased intracranial pressure, anything. I'm sorry I don't have answers for you John, but we're working on it as fast as we can," assured Hannah.
"Christ. I hope we can find something to help him," responded John. Carter sprinted into the room, Lorazepam in hand, and injected it into Sherlock's IV line.
"Won't take long." Tim returned to the private room, scrubs pulled on.
"We can take him down for surgery now if you're ready," said Tim. Hannah nodded as the seizure started to abate.
"This is it. Carter, we're moving him. John, you need to stay here, we'll keep you updated."
John sat on his bed, running his hands through his dishevelled hair. He was worried about Sherlock and his recovery status, and the fact they had no idea what was causing the hypo's or the seizures had him a little worried. He glanced up as a shadow crossed the door.
"Greg."
"If I didn't know better, I would say you're the sick one," said Greg he stepped in, carrying a bag. Molly was right behind him, another bag slung over her shoulder.
"Mol, you didn't have to come down," said John quietly.
"I wanted to make sure you were okay," she replied.
"How's he doing?" Asked Greg, sitting on the edge of Sherlock's bed. Molly sat next to him, looking at John with practiced eyes.
"He's still seizing, and they're not sure why. He had an episode four hours ago where he was so determined to get to me that he got out of bed, tore open stitches, and worked himself into another seizure state. Hence the fact we've moved rooms, and I've not got my own personal bed," said John, clearly stressed.
"He's got the best team working on him John. Hannah Parker, Tim Marsden, Christian Shaw and Mark Wainwright are all the top in their fields, and you can be assured that Mycroft pulled all the appropriate strings to make sure that they were assigned Sherlock. He's in the best of care, and the fact that Mycroft is allowing you to be involved in Sherlock's care is nothing short of incredible," said Molly. John flushed a scarlet red, and Greg was hit with a sudden realisation.
"You're shagging him," he announced proudly.
"Shut up!" Exclaimed John, smiling.
"Oh John, no wonder he's been in such a good mood! I thought maybe he'd found himself someone but I wasn't sure. John, that's wonderful!" Gushed Molly.
"Mate, there is something seriously wrong with you if you think you need to shag Sherlock," ribbed Greg, grinning.
"There's nothing wrong with me," retorted John. He smiled at the two of them.
"Besides, what's going on between you two?"
Sherlock came to in Recovery, and promptly threw up over himself. His head hurt, body ached, and stomach was roiling.
"John, where are you?" He cried weakly. Nausea won once more, and he threw up again, tears streaming down his face.
"We're getting him for you Sherlock, just calm down," comforted Christian.
"John. Please, John," he whimpered. He heard footsteps approach, felt a warm hand take his, and he jerked it away.
"It's okay Sherlock, it's me," said John softly, gripping Sherlock's hand in his.
"John. John, I've been sick," whispered Sherlock.
"I know. Carter is cleaning you up now, and then we'll get you back up to your room, alright?" Reassured John. He ran a hand through Sherlock's dark hair, trying to comfort him.
"I can't think… I can't think straight John. I can't see properly. John, I can't see!" Panicked Sherlock.
"Shh, it's alright. Calm down, okay? Take a deep breath for me, try and relax," replied John soothingly. Sherlock took a deep breath and wrinkled his nose.
"It smells odd," he complained.
"It's normal for a hospital to smell odd," answered John. Sherlock shook his head, wincing at the movement.
"Hospitals don't smell like burning rubber," he responded. John stared at him, and Sherlock quirked an eyebrow.
"Do they?"