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Sherlock wasn’t able to sleep, powerless to find a good position. The hospital bed wasn’t at fault as it was top notch and designed to be as comfortable as possible for the patient. Like sleeping on a cloud the nurse told him! Maybe when dark clouds are not floating over your head…
He was simply not able to stop thinking now that the morphine level was lower in his blood. He was restless… Thinking about John.
About his friend… laying down in a suburb near the woman who shot him, far away from his real home, Baker Street.
You don’t tell him…
Mary’s voice was ringing in his Mind.
You don’t tell him…
Not knowing what to do was killing him… Which is a nice euphemism when I actually died on the operation table a day before!
Should I talk to John? Egoistically, the chance to kick Mary out of John’s life was tempting… No, I can't do that… He chose her, I shouldn’t let my lov… sentiment cloud my judgement. But I can force her to reveal herself and John to see her for what she is… A woman who he loves and that clearly needs our help.
With a strong will, he rises and without disturbing the alarm until the last moment, he prepares himself for the inevitable battle.