"He's got more monitors on him," remarked Sherlock two hours later. Carter was in the room with him, noting down John's observations.
"His heart stopped Sherlock. We got it going again, but we've got more monitors on him just in case," replied Carter.
"Mycroft is a bloody twat," muttered Sherlock. He noticed his hands twitching, and started picking the blanket with his fingers. Carter glanced at him, and took note of the change in behaviour.
"Sherlock? What's wrong?" Asked Carter, putting John's chart back on the end of his bed.
"Hands are shaking," replied Sherlock quietly. Carter glanced at his watch, then looked at Sherlock's chart.
"Almost time for a blood glucose level, so let's do that now," said Carter easily. He replaced Sherlock's chart and disappeared out of the room for a second, before returning with a prick test kit.
"Alright. Pick a finger," said Carter. Sherlock extended a thin index finger towards Carter, and he pressed the needle against the flesh.
"Ow! You've made me bleed," sulked Sherlock.
"You're going to be doing this for the rest of your life Sherlock; we've been doing it for you at the moment, but we're going to start teaching you," said Carter. He pulled out a test strip and pressed Sherlock's finger against it, the blood seeping onto the strip. Sherlock watched on with renewed interest as Carter shoved the strip into the meter, before waiting a few minutes. It beeped, and Carter hit the emergency call button on the wall behind Sherlock.
"What's going on?" Asked Sherlock.
"I want another reading," said Carter absentmindedly.
"What was the number?" Asked Sherlock, words slurring a little. Christian sailed into the room, and looked at Carter.
"What's going on?"
"Reading of 2.3. He shouldn't be talking, let alone coherently," responded Carter, not looking up. He continued through the procedure again, hoping time would move faster than possible.
"Getting a secondary reading to confirm?" Asked Christian.
"Waiting for the reading," answered Carter. The machine beeped again, more insistently than before. Christian looked over Carter's shoulder at the number.
"2.2. Sherlock, do you think you could eat or drink something?" Asked Christian. Sherlock nodded wearily, and Carter darted out of the room. He returned with a lemonade and a packet of chocolate biscuits.
"It's all we've got in the lounge until Lucy comes back on shift," apologised Carter.
"It's fine. Sherlock, we've got to get your levels back up. Drink this lemonade and eat two of the biscuits, and we'll retest," said Christian.
"Sherlock? What's going on?" Asked John's sleepy voice.
"John, Sherlock's blood sugar level is 2.2. We're trying to raise it back up, and then we'll explain everything," promised Christian.
"Okay," replied John, his eyes sliding closed again. Sherlock finished the lemonade and biscuits, and leaned back against his pillows, eyes closed.
"Sherlock, how are you feeling?" Asked Christian.
"Less… shaky," replied Sherlock.
"Good. Five more minutes, and we'll retest, then get a meal for you from the kitchens," said Carter.
"Please, check on John," pleaded Sherlock.
"I'll do it now, I promise," assured Christian. He left Carter with Sherlock, and crossed over to John, taking vitals.
"His core temp is coming up, and he was a little more coherent when he woke up. We'll keep an eye on him still, until he's awake," said Christian, covering John back up with a blanket. Sherlock sat back against his pillows, sighing.
"Good. Bit good."
"I'm sorry to call you in at such late notice, but I wanted to talk," said Mycroft, gesturing for the pair to take a seat.
"It's never just wanting to talk with you Mycroft. There's something involved; what do you want us to do?" Asked Greg.
"I may have… created some tension between my brother and I, and as a result, am no longer allowed into the hospital to see him," mumbled Mycroft.
"Christ. It was your fault John was walking around in the freezing rain for hours, wasn't it!" Exclaimed Greg.
"I thought I had the best intentions for my younger brother!"
"Apparently not," responded Molly.
"So basically, you're asking us to spy on your brother and report back to you because you don't want to patch things up?" Summarised Greg.
"Yes."
"No. You can patch things up with Sherlock and John when you're ready. Come on Mol, I want to see them before I start at the yard. I can drop you off at the morgue," said Greg decisively. He pulled Molly up to her feet, and headed for the door.
"This is something you need to fix Mycroft. Don't send your little minions to do it for you."
John woke up, disoriented and confused. He glanced at the bed across from him, and realised that he was in the same room as Sherlock. His heart sank as the realisation hit, and he stumbled from the bed. He ripped the IVs from his arm, silenced the monitors and alarms, and padded from the room, grateful that Sherlock was still sleeping.
He wasn't allowed to be in here.
He crept along the corridor, hiding from nurses and cameras, making his escape.
Mycroft said Sherlock didn't want him.
He was a mistake.
He chose to use the stairwell instead of the lift, making it to the last flight of stairs before his legs gave out on him, and he fell down the last twenty. He crumpled at the bottom, unconscious.
Sherlock pulled the call button closer to him, pushing it with all the urgency in the world, his heart pounding, body trembling.
John was gone.
He could feel the change in his body before it happened; a sure sign of a seizure. Sherlock gritted his teeth, frustrated, the stress bringing on the symptoms much quicker than his previous events. His body tensed up, back arched, head thrown back as he seized violently. Carter, Christian and another nurse crowded into the room, pushing Sherlock into the recovery position as Carter timed the seizure. None of the medical staff glanced up when Greg and Molly entered the room. Molly gravitated to Sherlock's side, helping the medical team.
"How long?" Asked Christian.
"Coming up on five minutes," answered Carter tersely. Sherlock's body relaxed, and the staff breathed a sigh of relief.
"He's going again," said Carter suddenly, feeling the tension of the muscles change underneath his hand. Sherlock started seizing again, barely finished from the last seizure.
"Shit. Come on Sherlock, you can come out of this," muttered Christian.
"Where's John?" Asked Greg.
"In the bed over there," said Christian dismissively, still focussing on Sherlock.
"Um, he's not," answered Greg.
"Alice, I need you to locate John, immediately," Christian ordered the other nurse in the room.
"I'll go with you. Molly, you right to stay here?" Asked Greg. Molly nodded, focussing on Sherlock's quivering body.
"I'll check the monitors, see if I can see him on camera somewhere. He's probably gone to a bathroom and fallen asleep somewhere," commented Alice cheerily. Greg didn't look so positive, and glanced at the tiles outside John and Sherlock's room.
"Is… is that blood?" Asked Greg. Alice joined him and glanced at the floor.
"It looks like it is. I'll call maintenance, get them up here to clean it up," said Alice.
"Humour me for a second, but it looks like it's leading away from Sherlock's room," said Greg. He started to follow the trail of drops, Alice right behind him.
"They lead to the stairwell," said Greg, confused. He flung open the door.
"John? John! Are you in here?" Called Alice.
"The drops; they still go down the stairs," said Greg. He started down the staircase, round each bend, then stopped.
"Christ. Alice! I've found him! John, wake up. Come on John, you've got to wake up." Alice was beside him in seconds, pulling out a pager. She paged the emergency and trauma team to the stairwell, then glanced up at Lestrade.
"Trauma will be here as soon as possible, and we'll get him sorted," said Alice gently.
"Christian is part of the trauma team; he's dealing with Sherlock. Is there any way we can get him here?" Asked Greg.
"I'll call Sherlock's neuro, get him up to monitor him; they'll need his okay to give him any further medication," decided Alice. She pulled out a mobile, and dialled the nurses desk on the fourth floor.
"Mia, I need you to page Dr Wainwright to Sherlock's room immediately to take over from Dr Shaw, we're going to need him down here in trauma," said Alice quickly. Greg caught a few muttered words, then Alice hung up.
"Mark was already on his way. Christian will be down here any minute." Greg heard the door on the fourth floor swing open, crashing against the wall, before footsteps pounded their way down to where the odd trio were sitting.
"God. John, John, can you hear me?"