A few hours later, a confused police officer follows my brother into the room. I'm awake, but I keep my eyes closed.

"Sherlock!" I hear John's stage-whisper from next to me. "Sherlock! The man who kidnapped me, he's here!"

I sigh. Now everyone knows I'm awake.

"John, calm yourself before you have a panic attack, and if you would be so kind, set down that vase. There's no need for things to become violent," my brother sneers.

I try to imagine John's confused face but I figure that the real thing was better so I opened my eyes. It was.

"Ah, Sherlock, I see that you're awake-"

"But - Sherlock! What's going on here?"

I sigh again, split between being thankful or not of Mycroft and I's very different physical appearances that force me to explain our relationship.

"John, I see you've met Mycroft."

"But he-!"

"My brother."

To this minute I can't quite fully explain the baffled look on John's face. If helpful, it's somewhere between a trapped cartoon fish and a confused woodland creature (read: hedgehog).

By passing John's baffled, rapidly moving eyes, Mycroft turned his attention back to me.

"Mummy phoned from Africa. She sends her regards."

"And you came all the way here to tell me that?"

"Of course not. Can you not see the man behind me?" The officer perks up. "He's come to collect what evidence you have."

"About tha'" interjected the officer. Second year, just now gaining confidence and respect in the workplace. "What case is this suppos-ta be abou'?"

"A new one," said Mycroft. While explained the situation John finally snapped out of whatever trance he was in and turned to me.

"He's your brother? But he kidnapped me!"

"Only at my request," said I. "And it's not like any harm came from it."

"Um, should I be concerned abou' a kidnapping now?" interjected the officer.

"Any HARM? SHERLOCK!" John paused and took a breath, lowering his voice. "Look at you! You're in a bloody hospital bed now because you got yourself beat up for no bloody good reason!"

I have upset John, something that I acknowledged with a look and momentary deep thought. Unacceptable. Must make amends. Privately.

Now to get rid of Mycroft.

"I'm sure this officer can catch up on the full report your people have made. Now, John, hand over the recorder so Mycroft can be on his way."

John did as asked, still keeping an eye on me, and Mycroft left without another word. Instead, he shot a knowing (read: arrogant) smirk at the both of us. The officer (in an attempt to be inconspicuous) left a card on the table by the door, no doubt with his private number on it.

Yet, as John's stare intensified - as a character from a hideously predictable comedy John forced me to watch one morning said - I've got some 'splaining to do.

A nurse came in shortly after and I found myself drift off to sleep once again - an annoying side effect of whatever dug they were pumping through my veins. When I woke later, John swam into focus against the private hospital background.

"John."

He startled and looked around, happy to see me awake again.

"Hey S'lock" he yawned.

"John, listen" I started not meeting his eyes, having readied for this speech while unconscious. "I had to get that recording to have the evidence against the Trio. I couldn't back down, that would disappoint you. I can't have that, then you'd leave and realize what an awful human I am..." I trailed off - obviously not as prepared as I thought to have gone off on such a tangent. "But it's not like I planned to get hospitalized! It just happened, like it always does. I didn't mean to make you upset." I looked up at him.

The look on his face - another I have a hard time recreating with words. It was so full of... was it love? Such a look has rarely been thrown my way that any remark I could've made blocked my airway.

"Sher... You thought you'd... disappoint me? Not be clever enough for me? Sherlock you're brilliant! You'll never be not brilliant and there's no way I'd leave voluntarily. I'm just mad that you kept me away from helping you, and you ended up here."

"I didn't want you to hurt your sh-"

"DAMN MY SHOULDER! Sorry. Just... I've lived with this stupid thing long enough that I hate being limited by it. I don't care if they had injured it or not if I had been there to help. Three against one isn't exactly fair, Sherlock."

He smiled and leaned down, obviously to kiss me. After we broke apart he didn't move far and whispered "Just don't count me out next time."

Next time.

Annoyingly enough I sank into a dreamless sleep once again.

Four physical therapists, two nurses, and three days later I was discharged from the wretched place and back in our dorm resting comfortably on John's mattress reading Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

"You should really catch up on your coursework," said John from his place on the floor.

"Done. And so should you."

"Done? How did you-"

"Get it all done so fast? Please. After they took me off that drug I did it at night. While you were gone."

John shook his head. "Well I'm practically caught up and I don't want to any more."

"What do you suggest then?"

"I don't know... Movie maybe?"

"Fine," I said and put the book down. John fetched his laptop and I scooted over to accommodate him on the narrow mattress, careful with my still-sore shoulder.

"How does... Harry Potter sound?"

"You mean they actually made it into a movie?!"

"Eight! And two musicals, but you have to read all the books before you can watch those."

My eyes widened, expecting a joke but none came. Wow.

The movie began to play