Sherlock frowned deeply at the mention of an MRI being performed on John. Of course they would want an MRI on both himself and his friend, but that implied separating them and he wasn't going to stand for that. "Mycroft," he called loudly over his shoulder, "you'll want to join us for this. We're going with John for his MRI." He glared at the doctor and the technicians with equal force.
"That will be impossible," Doctor Grisham said with a flat smile. "No one can be in the room with him during the procedure."
Mycroft, who had crossed the room, placed a restraining hand on Sherlock's arm. He could see his brother's temper rusing. "True, but we will be in the control room." The smile he gave Doctor Grisham was cold and dangerous. It clearly dared the man to argue differently. If Grisham did, he would be removed from the case.
Doctor Grisham swallowed audibly and nodded. He knew better than to argue with Mycroft, though he didn't really know who he was beyond Sherlock's very protective, very powerful brother. "That can certainly be arranged, though it will be crowded." He turned to John. "Doctor Watson, you know this is a simple enough procedure. Perhaps you can convince your frie-"
John cut him off quickly. "They observe or it doesn't happen." He reached for Sherlock's smaller hand and grasped it like a lifeline. "I assume that was clear enough?" He could be as bull headed as any Holmes and he hadn't forgot Mycroft's admonition to stay together at all times. Frankly, Baskerville still gave him the creeps.
"Ahem, well, yes then. If you will all come with me, we'll get this done as quickly as possible." Doctor Grisham was clearly discomfited, but was trying to hide it.
"For the sake of time, wouldn't it be expedient to perform my MRI as soon as you complete the one on Doctor Watson," Sherlock suggested. "You won't have to drag us all to the MRI suite again." He smiled condescendingly at Grisham. "Because that's exactly what will happen if you don't."
Doctor Blankenship had joined the small group out of curiosity. "That sounds like an excellent idea," he agreed, oblivious to Doctor Grisham's irritation with the whole thing. "It will be exciting to compare Mr. Holmes' results with his old MRI scans, then compare Doctor Watson's to those same scans. It will be fascinating to see which ones provide the best match."
John looked at his friend. "You've had an MRI before?" he asked. "Why?"
"As part of a study." The detective shrugged it off. "I imagine it was to soothe ruffled feathers here, based on what Mycroft said."
"Entirely correct," the government official confirmed. "I did everything I could to keep them satisfied without jeopardising Sherlock."
They entered the MRI suite and the technicians wasted no time getting John ready. Just before the rest of them had to move to the control room, Sherlock moved to John's side. He bent low and whispered, "Remember the Mind Palace. It's how I get through these ghastly procedures."
The doctor snagged his hand again. "We need to talk," he said urgently. "I found a room. It was full of stuff about me. I..."
"We really must get started," Doctor Grisham insisted. "Mr. Holmes, if you'll join us." He looked and sounded even more irritated than before.
Sherlock had gone pale, almost as pale as his own body was usually. He dropped John's hand and stepped away fast, not seeing the doctor's stricken look. "Of course." The detective was in a panic. He hadn't realised that John had gained full access to his Mind Palace. He felt weak in the knees, panicked, nauseated even. He half staggered to keep up with the others as they made their way to the control room. How much time had John spent in that room? How much had he seen? He leaned against the wall and concentrated on not hyperventilating. Mycroft, of course, noticed.
"Sherlock, what's wrong?" the government official asked with concern. "Did John say something? Do you feel alright?" He moved closer and held out an arm as if to catch him should he fall.
The detective waved him off. He couldn't tell Mycroft, of all people, what had happened. His brother would scoff at his sentimentality and tell him it was his own fault for allowing it in the first place. Mycroft would sneer at the idea of a room in Sherlock's Mind Palace dedicated to the doctor. What must John, definitely not gay John think of him. His friend must be disgusted by him. The doctor was probably only putting up with him because of their current predicament. As soon as they were back in their own bodies and safely away from Baskerville, the doctor would leave and never look back.
Sherlock pushed away from the wall and pretended to be interested in the procedure. Mycroft gave him one last sidelong look, then he too turned his gaze on the computer that was processing the imaging information. The detective bided his time, letting everyone become engrossed in what was happening, then he quietly slipped from the room. He had to get away from it all. Away from the madness of what he had done to them, from the fallout of what John now knew to be the truth. He knew he couldn't hide forever, but he needed time to come to terms with the travesty he had made of his own life.