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Greg screwed his eyes shut and rubbed at his temples while the duty nurse - a young lady with a mercifully soft voice - checked the register.
He didn't like hospitals at the best of times. He was never anywhere near one for anything good and the fact that he currently felt more like he should be a patient than a visitor was not helping.
Then he remembered who he was here to visit - and why - and suddenly his pounding head and tired, gritty eyes didn't seem like so much of a problem. He'd feel better after a good night's sleep - not everybody was so lucky, and certainly not anybody in here.
The nurse directed him down the hall. He didn't need to look at the room numbers to know which one he was after; the lad in uniform sitting outside the door was a dead giveaway.
The constable stood up as he approached, checked his identification, apologised for not recognising him - despite the fact he'd never clapped eyes on Greg in his life before that moment - and sat back down as Greg pushed the door open.
The room's occupant was lying on his side in bed, facing the door. He looked at Greg warily.
"Major Sholto - I'm Detective Inspector Lestrade."
A suspicion of recognition crossed Sholto's face. "You were at the wedding," he said, hesitantly.
"Yes, we spoke briefly just after the ceremony. Mind if I sit down?" Greg gestured to an empty chair.
Sholto shook his head. "Help yourself. There's some water there as well - you look a bit… dehydrated."
"That's one word for it," Greg admitted as he poured two glasses. "Hungover as hell would be another."
"I'm glad the party wasn't spoiled - and not entirely sorry I missed it to be honest. Not really my thing." Sholto winced as he shifted in his bed to accept the other glass from Greg. "Could have done without the skewering though."
Greg sipped his water as he took a longer look at the man in the bed before him. They were of an age but Sholto clearly kept himself in good physical condition, his injuries notwithstanding. Quite a fit bloke - in every sense - but then Greg always had had a weakness for military types. Sherlock wasn't the only one who'd cast an appreciative eye over ex-Captain Watson.
"I said, were there more questions? Because I already gave a statement."
"Oh, sorry. " Greg quickly set aside his water - and his daydreams - and hoped Sholto didn't spot the flush that he felt come to his cheeks. It had been quite a while since he'd been caught looking - but then he wasn't firing on all cylinders today. "No, I'm not here in any official capacity."
"But you are with the police?"
"Yes, but I'm with the Met, so this is outside my jurisdiction. I called it in when Sherlock tipped me off but then I handed it over to the local nick. They're dealing with it now."
Sholto studied Greg's face again as he tried to remember the previous day's events.
"You left just before Mr Holmes told me I was the target. Something about going to the Gents."
Greg huffed a laugh. "Yeah. He sent me a text asking me to lock the place down. God knows what you all must have thought he was actually asking for."
"I did wonder. Had a hint of the George Michael about it." A quick smile flashed across Sholto's face. Greg got the feeling not many people got to see that.
"Oh God, it did, didn't it?" Greg chuckled and covered his eyes in mock embarrassment.
"But that was before he'd worked out what was going on. Before he even knew it was me that had been attacked - or who had attacked me. You just took his word for it that something had happened - or was going to?"
Greg shrugged. "I've got a healthy respect for Sherlock's intuition - and he's got a healthy respect for how angry I get if he gets me to waste police resources unnecessarily" he said, adding a muttered "Or at least he does now."
"So if you're not here as part of the investigation, what are you doing here?"
"Well, I promised John Watson I'd check in on you. He's a bit busy - what with being off on his honeymoon."
"Oh. That's… that's very kind of you."
"It's no bother really - and I know how miserable it can be being stuck somewhere like this with no visitors."
"Taken a few knocks yourself?"
"Nothing too serious thankfully." Greg tapped his knuckles against the side of his head. "Touch wood. Had a pretty similar one to yours a few years back. Knife to the ribs. That was probably the worst."
"I won't be recommending it to anyone, that's for sure."
Greg smiled again. Sholto had just the kind of dry humour he enjoyed.
"Actually, I did have a few questions about another suspicious character from yesterday," Greg started.
"Oh?"
"Yeah - that groom. Born trouble-maker from the look of him - I wondered what you could tell me about him?"
Sholto frowned but there was the ghost of a smile still on his lips as he did so.. "You're asking me to betray a comrade?"
"Absolutely," Greg replied, face deadpan serious.
"I don't think I could possibly let you know what John got up to under my command…"
Greg had suspected as much but it had been worth a shot.
"That time in Kabul with the trained eagle for example - it would be very bad if John knew I'd told you about that." The smile was much more than a hint now.
Greg settled back in his seat and reached for his water...
When he next checked his watch he was amazed to find they'd been sitting chatting for nearly an hour. "Ah, heck. Didn't realise the time. I really should go. Got a ton of stuff to do before I'm back at the office."
"No, I understand. Thank you for taking the time."
"Honestly, it was my pleasure." Greg was surprised to find just how much he meant that. He dug in his wallet for a card. "Here. This is my card - I'll put my mobile number on the back. You need anything, just let me know."
Sholto took the card and read it. "Detective Inspector G. Lestrade - Geoff, wasn't it?"
Greg sighed. "Greg, actually - Sherlock has a bit of a blind spot about my name for some reason. Always getting it wrong. I don't mind though, if he gets everything else right."
"I certainly can't complain. Anyway, it was very nice talking to you, Greg."
"You too, Major."
"Jim, please." Sholto held out his hand and Greg shook it warmly.
"Jim. I'll be free tomorrow evening if you're feeling up to being bothered again?"
Jim hesitated and Greg wondered if he'd been too forward, but then he nodded. "I'd like that."
"So would I. See you then."
Greg stepped out into the hall, startling the young constable who looked as though he'd forgotten Greg was in there.
"Buck up, son. That's a war hero you've got in there, don't want anything happening to him on your watch, do you?"
Especially not before Greg had had a chance to get to know him better and see if there was something there worth going after...
Maybe hospitals weren't entirely terrible places after all...