Thursday, 17 May 2012
06:14:16 PM (GMT)
He glanced at his phone for the billionth time, his thumbs dancing over the
keyboard. A weekend at Harry's house, and all of a sudden, John wasn't talking to
'Idiot. I'm bored and Anderson's irritating me.
All day. Did the man not realise just how infuriated Mrs Hudson was? And how bored
he was... And worried, although he won't admit it...
A glance at his watch. Half seven in the evening. And- a buzz. Finally! Sherlock
pulled out his phone, and opened the message:
'Sherlock, this is Harry. John's in hospital. He had a heart attack and hit his
head on the bathroom sink. He's not conscious.'
Sherlock stared at the screen for about a minute, rereading the text. This wasn't
possible. Another buzz.
'You can't come. Mum's in tears.'
'Seriously, Sherlock, stay at Baker Street. I'll keep you updated, and you can visit
'Are you there now?'
'When will he wake up?'
'The doctors say tomorow.'
'Can I come then?'
'No, Sherlock! The day after, maybe.'
This was not possible. Not at all. How could John have possibly hit his head on the
sink in Harry's bathroom? He... actually, his height changed things. A wound to the
head. A heart attack. A horribly disturbing thought lingered in the back of his
mind. What would he remember?
Sherlock stormed through the hospital doors, leaving a very flustered Harry to
explain to the nurses. He burst through into John's room, and glared at him.
"You're an idiot, John. Do you realise how boring Baker Street is without-"
"I-I'm sorry... Who are you?"