Brightness. that was the first thing I thought. The bright light was shining right through my eyelids. I wanted to tell John to put those dam lights out. But the only sound that came out my throat was some dry croaking. My lips and throat was dry. Why were my lips dry? I tried to open my eyes. But I regretted it immediately. John had still not turned those lights off.
I still had no idea where I was. I knew it wasn't my flat. Even the floor of my flat felt better than this crappy bed. Maybe I was in John's clinic. But what would I do there and how could there be so much light. I took a deep breath. This was enough for me to know where I was. The hospital. Only the hospital smelled like this. But why was I in the hospital.
A heard a few people come in. 'Oh God. Is he still here? One of them said. (A woman in her late 30) Where they talking about me. 'Yes, he refuses to leave before he wakes up.' the doctor answered. 'Who is he?' 'It says it is his brother.' Those words were enough for me to lose every sense of direction. So I was in the hospital and my brother has been here, for apparently a long time, refusing to leave until I was awake.
The nurse started again: 'What is he doing here anyway?' 'Overdose. Or that is what the files. His brother there claims someone tried to kill him.' Oh right, the murder attempt. Almost dying. Now I remembered. I tried to sit up, but groaned. I felt a terrible ache in my stomach. 'Doc, he is waking up.' I felt their hands pressing me in my back pushing me upright slowly. 'Can you open your eyes Mr. ... Holmes.' I tried to tell them it was too bright but again only a croack came out. 'Wait a second sir.' I heard water running and a cup was pressed against my lips.
I slowly started to drink. Knowing that drinking to fast could upset my stomach. 'Thank you. Could you maybe dim the lights? It is a little bright.' When they did it i was finally able to open my eyes. A few tubes were sticking out of my body. 'We had to...' 'Pump my stomach. I know.' i interrupted the doctor. I turned to look at my brother and saw him sit in an uncomfortable chair. Sleeping. Next to him there stood a little cabinet. On it stood the picture.
'He was the one to call the police. Mr. Holmes. A little after you were in operation he came here. He demanded that he could stay. He stayed here the entire night and day. You were out an entire day. He took this picture with him. He said you dropped it.' The nurse said.
'Could you leave me with my brother. We need to talk.' I told her. She seemed to hesitate. 'Now.' I said. And they were of.
PS: I don't own anything but the things that aren't in Sherlock. All the rest is owned by BBC, Mark Gatiss, Steven Moffat and the rest of their crew.