"I am out of the IC unit. I can tell because there aren't as many beeping gadgets. Without opening my eyes I know John and Mycroft are there. I keep my eyes shut to see what I can hear-nothing. I'm bored. As I open my eyes I look to my right, 45 degree angle, John is there. I try to raise my hand to beckon to him. I can't. I am handcuffed to the bed. I pull at the cuff like an animal caught in a trap. John, what is happening?"
John looks over at Mycroft, "Mycroft, are the cuffs really necessary?"
Mycroft levels his gaze at John. "He's going to rehab. We can't trust him. I thought we agreed on this John."
John stands in front of my bed, his stance that of a soldier protecting a fellow soldier. He then turns to me. "Sherlock, it's for your own good," he says as he lays a gentle hand on my shoulder.
I attack him with my full arsenal. I pull at the cuff. "You think this is good for me? What do you know? You've become just like him," I say as I point to Mycroft.
"Shhhherlock, you died on me several times. Not just once several times," John stutters as he looks down.
"Dearest John I want to take your hand. I don't. I just pout. You place your hand over the cuff as if to protect me from the cold metal. I look up at you….John. How can you not know? How can you not know how I feel about you? How do I feel about you? Do I love you as a friend? Do I love you as a brother? Do I love as a lover? I can't imagine what it would be like to kiss you. I can't. I can't imagine what it would be like to have you…to have you make love to me…I can't. I want you to read my mind. I want you to ravage my soul, like a pirate-like a pirate-dearest…John. Your brow is furrowed, your lips pursed. You are just as lost as I.
"Sherlock, everything is going to be okay. I will be with you every step of the way," John says as he fingers my boney wrist.
"I want to lean into you, but I don't. Instead I rattle my handcuff, making it slide back and forth with such force that you beg me to stop."
"Sherlock, you're going to break your wrist. Stop, please, now," John begs.
"I get off on your begging. I want you to suffer for my lack of courage. John…You run from the room. A short while later you come back with a nurse. She injects something into my line. Lights out."
"I wake up later. I'm nauseous. God, my stomach hurts. Though I try to control myself, I can't. I vomit over everything. You and the nurse come running in. She starts to clean me up, but you brush her hand away and do it yourself. Your hands are gentle as you slip off my gown. Until I am released you have to let the dirty gown fall to the side. It looks like a broken wing. You strip my blankets off the bed. The sour smell doesn't make you gag. Your gentle hands wash me. Like a savior you make me clean. I shiver wondering if I will become aroused as your hands wipe the vomit from my stomach. As you clean my navel I begin to shake. You jump into action, you read my vitals, and then you quickly slip a hospital gown on me. Then you leave, but you come back soon and wrap me in a cocoon of warm heated blankets. You then look into my eyes. I want to say something profound, but I don't. Tears stream down my face as you adjust my pillow. John you are my…angel. Shortly, Mycroft comes in, he undoes the handcuff and my useless soiled gown flutters to the ground-like a piece of paper it floats to the floor. You and I watch its descent. Mycroft watches me watching you. I don't care, he can just sod off. I look over at him. I expect to see his brotherly sneer, but I don't. His eyes are large-frightened. I am more confused than ever, so I turn my back on you both. John, I can feel your arms around me, tucking me in. Then you do something unexpected, you hug me."
"Sherlock, go to sleep. I've got your back," you whisper. Your soft words tickle the inside of my ear.
"I want to say something. What…WHAT? Oh, John we are both blind. We see but we do not deduce. We dare not deduce. I then rest my head against your arm. As I fall asleep I hear you and Mycroft auguring about my treatment. I smile for you are with me-John."
