"He's asked to see his brother first." Doctor Hawkins addressed the three men who had returned to the hospital after a call had informed them of Sherlock's regained consciousness.
John looked as if he was about to say something, but Mycroft stepped in.
"I assure you that I shall not keep him from seeing you any longer than is necessary, John." he said, reassuringly. "Doctor Hawkins, are you able to give us any additional information about my brother's condition?" He looked to the young doctor who was trying to look inconspicuous as he studied his notes.
"Well, we haven't found any physical problems as a result of the overdose. The ventilator has been removed, and he has been drinking some fluids himself. Psychologically..." he glanced at his notes again, "we have not yet found any problems. If he shows no signs of relapse, we may be able to release him later today or tomorrow. However..." Doctor Hawkins hesitated, unsure how to address the issue of the actual overdose itself, "it may be that we recommend he be referred to a psychologist. The few words that Sherlock has spoken to us indicate that the overdose was not..." again, Doctor Hawkins scrabbled for words until a moment of 'sod this, let's just get it out' seemed to wash over him "... the overdose was not accidental. You brother, Mr Holmes, appears to have intended to overdose. This will need addressing, of course."
Doctor Hawkins was looking at Mycroft while trying actually not to look at the man. Mycroft, of course, was quite used to this and didn't call the man on it.
"Thank you, Doctor Hawkins." he said, with a nod and a clear tone of dismissal. The doctor returned the nod and left quickly.
Mycroft looked first at Greg and then to John who was stood biting his bottom lip. "I shall talk with my brother, John." Mycroft spoke, voice subdued in the light of the confirmation of what he had already suspected. His brother was an experienced addict. Even if he had been clean in recent years, he would never have been so careless as to have overdosed accidentally. It suddenly dawned on him that Sherlock hadn't been trying to escape the feelings as a temporary measure at all. This could be a long road.
John didn't respond, but Greg looked across at Mycroft and took his hand, squeezing it gently with his own. As Mycroft turned to approach his brother's room, he momentarily turned back and gave Greg a soft kiss. "Thank you, Gregory." he whispered to the detective before turning again and walking away.
As Mycroft left, Greg glanced across at John who gave him a smile which the detective wasn't entirely sure about. "You OK?" he asked the doctor. The news that Sherlock's overdose may have been deliberate was sure to have been difficult to John to hear. He already felt responsible for what had happened. They both did.
John snapped himself out of what seemed like a daydream, or a waking nightmare, and gave a slightly more believable smile. "Let's wait in here." he suggested, motioning to a small family room close by which was now vacant. Mycroft would be a while anyway. He was sure that the elder Holmes would have plenty to say to Sherlock about... well, about all of this madness.
"Do you think he tried to kill himself because of me?" John eventually asked after they had been sat in the room for a couple of quiet minutes.
Greg turned to John, trying to assess his frame of mind before answering.
"I don't know, mate," he began honestly, "but I doubt that Sherlock would do something this stupid just because of this." he concluded considerably less honestly. He really didn't think that being in love with John, even if Sherlock thought it would be forever unrequited, would drive Sherlock to want to kill himself. "There might be other factors involved." he continued, "I just don't know what... or who. Perhaps he will open up to Mycroft."
John's eyebrows raised at the unlikelihood of that. "I hope so." he replied.
When Sherlock next squinted his eyes open against the glare of the room, his brother was there. Mycroft leant towards his little brother and put a hand on his arm.
"Sherlock." he said, his voice filled with concern but still keeping an air of detachment. "Sherlock," he repeated, "Why?"
Sherlock turned his head towards Mycroft and in his eyes, the elder could see pain. Pain, sorrow and grief and... regret. Mycroft nodded. "Gregory told me..." he continued, turning his eyes from Sherlock's so his little brother wouldn't feel under scrutiny, "..about John."
Sherlock let out a long sigh. John.
"What are we going to do about John Watson?"
The Irish sing-song voice echoed in his mind. He swallowed awkwardly through his rough, dry throat before speaking.
"Jim was here."
Mycroft's eyes darted up to once again meet Sherlock's. This time, instead of pain and guilt, he saw fear. "Jim Moriarty?" he questioned although he knew full well who his brother meant.
Sherlock just raised an eyebrow briefly before his face returned to worry. It was certainly an expression that Mycroft had rarely seen on his little brother.
"He knows too." Sherlock added, lowering his head again.
Mycroft sat back in the hospital-issue armchair and groaned. Jim Moriarty. This was just what Sherlock didn't need. How did he find out about any of this? Mycroft needed answers, and he resolved to get some people onto it, but first, he needed some things clearing up by Sherlock himself.
"You've been seeing Jim Moriarty." Mycroft said. More of a statement than a question, but one for which he fully expected an honest reply from his brother.
Sherlock raised his head again but didn't look at Mycroft. He stared at the door to the hospital room as if he hoped somebody would enter and spare him the inquisition that he knew was imminent.
"Only in recent days." he finally responded. "He supplied me and..."
"You repaid him." Mycroft interrupted curtly. He knew how it worked between Sherlock and Jim. The same way it had always worked between Sherlock and Jim. Mycroft had watched his brother be drawn into it during university and it took him several years before he was in a position to be able to pull his little brother out of the cycle of abuse that he was trapped in. And then, of course, there was Suzette.
"I made a mistake, Mycroft, and I need to start fixing it." Sherlock admitted, not even sounding as though it pained him to do so. Sherlock was ready to move on. "I think I need to speak to John now, please."