For John Watson

[howdull]

[Sherlock is still finding pieces of the melted laptop in the carpet.

It had actually been quite an ingenious booby trap to be devised by a fourteen year old boy with only household chemicals to work with but, as Sherlock surmised, rather overkill to keep his mother from finding his extensive porn collection. Not one of their more illustrious cases, but it had been quite entertaining to watch both the boy and mother's faces as he revealed that he did know the how and why. He lost interest after the mother started shouting and John started shouting and the whole thing turned tedious.

He rather thinks John won't actually be doing a full write-up of this one on his blog.

It's been two days since their last case and he's beginning to get more than a little antsy. Lestrade has sent him nothing, just a boring hit and run that he refused to even leave the flat for, and nobody interesting has appeared through the blog. Said blog he is currently scrolling through on John's laptop, having borrowed it again.

He did ask, it's not his fault John hadn't been in the room at the time.]

Bored, John.

[He doesn't even know if his flatmate is even in, but that's hardly a necessity for him to actually speak to John. Frustrated, he throws the laptop across the room to hit the wall, where it summarily breaks. Which is where he can be found whenever John appears, sulking amidst pieces of laptop, both from the melted one of their last case and John's poor broken one.]

Comments

[jumpthegun]

[His brows rise. That was right? Oh! He feels a little lighter, in spite of things. Granted, it probably took Sherlock two seconds to work that all out, but it's nice of him to let John get there on his own every once in a while.]

So, I've got two people who hate my guts? That's nice to know.

PLEASE PRETEND I SAID SHEPHERD'S BUSH NOT BAKER STREET UP THERE gdi brain

[howdull]

Perhaps. Perhaps not. The accomplice could be someone who cares about her enough to assist her, they may not have any direct link to you at all.

[Or possibly they do, but it's unlikely. John is far too amenable to have two deadly enemies.

He pulls Molly's car to the curb and kills the engine, getting out of the car and staggering a step before recovering his balance. Damn poisoning.]

NEVER

[jumpthegun]

[John pulls himself out, as well, a little preoccupied with his own struggles to remain active and upright to notice Sherlock's initial stumble. He grabs the bag with the extra clothes and the medicine Molly bought, and heads around to get the door. He does notice that Sherlock's moving slowly. Hopefully the supplies he requested from Mycroft will be there.]

Mm... so a family member or friend? [A pause before he adds.] We need to get you on that respirator immediately.

[howdull]

Yes, I agree.

[At least Mycroft probably isn't petty enough to have sent the equipment to the Hilton instead, but one never knows with big brother. He gets the door unlocked and steps aside for John to go up first.]

We'll need to work quickly, the survival rate for ricin poisoning is only thirty four percent and I refuse to die with a case unsolved.

[jumpthegun]

[Luckily, Sherlock's continued survival in this world outweighs pettiness. The IV equipment, saline fluid, oxygen mask and canisters, and blood pressure and seizure medications are sitting near the bed when they enter. The activated charcoal and tubing are there, as well, but in retrospect, they probably aren't going to do much. Sherlock didn't ingest castor beans. He'd been injected. Still, it might come in handy for something else if the Alphabet Woman does decide to poison them. There's a distinct air of the place having been cleaned... or maybe it was just swept for drugs. John's not sure at this point.

He'll set down his bag before starting to set up the equipment. The oxygen is a priority, and John ignores the aches and pains in his own body as he bends to attend to it.]

Take off your coat and put a shirt on if you want it. Don't do up the cuffs.

[The direction isn't meant to be particularly patronizing. John's going into doctor mode. That means directing the patient.]

[howdull]

[Luckily for John, this is one area where Sherlock will take direction fairly easily, because he trusts John's capability as a medical professional. He notes the equipment and makes a mental reminder to mock Mycroft for losing that particular battle of wills later.

The coat comes off and Sherlock crosses to his closet to pull on some loose pyjama pants and a t-shirt, easier to deal with than being properly dressed for this.]

I suppose she intends for me to die tomorrow, thus marking the starting pistol of her 'main event'.

[jumpthegun]

[Then they'll be making sure her gun jams. John's tone is darker when he speaks.]

There isn't going to be a main event. Lie down on the bed.

[A part of him knows that he should try to show some level of empathy for this woman and what she's lost. That she's been driven mad in her grief is extremely troubling. But she murdered his big sister, blew up his home, shot an innocent kid through the stomach, and tried to murder Sherlock. It's difficult to look past.]

Lestrade will be here in a few hours. Once I have you hooked up to everything and you've taken your meds, you'll lie there until he arrives. Have you got that?

[howdull]

No, a few hours is too long, I could well be delirious by then and of no help to either of you.

[He sits on the bed rather than lying down, and settles himself back against the wall ready for John to begin his doctoring.]

The first thing we need to do is find out which hospital your Danny was transferred to after he left your care, then ring them and get access to their records on his recovery.

[jumpthegun]

[Should he be writing this down for reference? No. He'll try to remember. John finishes hooking up the first bag of saline solution to the IV, then takes Sherlock's arm and sets that to rights in him. The oxygen is important, but he needs to take pills first. And also, talking with the mask on will be harder.]

All right. Bill might know that. Or Lestrade can probably find out.

[He hates calling Bill back after leaving off with him on such an ominous note. Molly might be able to request the records for them, as well, if Lestrade isn't an option. She has the fax at Barts.]

What are we looking for in his recovery records? Just what turned him suicidal?

[howdull]

[He gives John a Look. The sort of Look that says that he is contemplating just how it's possible for someone to maintain motor function with such a limited brain capacity.]

Obviously.

[They're hardly looking up his blood type!]

Complications during recovery, any other family or friends who may have visited and would be able to be contacted to discuss the state of both his marriage and health.

[jumpthegun]

Right.

[Just checking. John feels chastened as he heads into the kitchen to find a glass. It's nice all of the utilities have been kept on here for whatever reason. He rinses one off that he finds quickly and fills it up. The doctor hands Sherlock the glass while he checks the medication that's been left. A moment latter, the correct dosages for each are being handed to him.]

And you said there was a baby. Should we check for a death certificate?

[howdull]

Yes, it seems likely that the child is also dead.

[Sherlock looks at the medicine impatiently for a second, before he tips it all back. None of it is the good stuff, utterly boring.]

There might be other children involved, but it seems unlikely that she would risk revenge and imprisonment if she had any remaining children to care for.

[jumpthegun]

[John can't help grimacing at the thought of other children involved with the Alphabet Woman.]

Told you she seemed a bit mad. I wasn't exaggerating. I think she really has snapped. Dunno if risk would factor in.

[Although...]

But why did she start doing this now? Something had to have triggered it. [Maybe whatever Lestrade pulls up on Danny will be illuminating. If he only died relatively recently, that could explain it. Or the child. He holds up a hand to forestall Sherlock's reply.]

We need to get your oxygen mask on. It'll be harder to talk. Anything you absolutely need to say before that?

[howdull]

Everything I say is of importance, John.

[Which is a no.

They can't do much else until they have the information on the child and whatever caused Danny to kill himself. The suicide, at least, Sherlock is sure has to relate to his injuries in Afghanistan, otherwise there could be no reason to blame John. Even so, the act of blaming John for not reaching him faster seems to be the desperate actions of someone with nobody else to blame.

He won't fight John putting the oxygen mask on him, though he does look disgruntled by the odd smell of it.]

Tedious.

[It's an irritated mutter, muffled inside the mask.]

[jumpthegun]

I know. Not dying so tedious.

[John heads to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water for himself and just try to relax. He pulls out the note the woman left and glances down at it before moving back over to Sherlock.]

Here. Deduce what you can off that while you're still conscious and sensible.

[As sensible as Sherlock ever gets.]

[howdull]

I am not going to fall unconscious.

[He sounds almost offended at the suggestion, though he does reach out and take the piece of paper to examine it properly.

Luckily, it's not too much longer before there's a knock at the door. Lestrade decided he couldn't wait after all.]

[jumpthegun]

[John goes to fetch the door, relieved for the distraction. Lestrade's not going to like what he sees, though, no doubt. At least John is still in relatively decent shape. Relatively. He's still working on broken ribs and a burned back.]

Come in. He's on the bed. You'll want to talk to him first, and maybe save the yelling.

[Because Sherlock is the important one to talk to immediately thanks to his condition.]

[howdull]

[Save the yelling isn't something he's going to be able to do, looking a cross between furious and worried as hell when he looks between one and the other.]

You idiots. Give me one good reason why I don't call for an ambulance right now? You're going to kill yourselves and save that woman the trouble.

[jumpthegun]

I can take care of him. We've got what we need. [John sounds mildly affronted.] And if you put us in hospital, we might not be able to work. You really want to do that with some psychopath running around? They knocked me out long enough Sherlock might have died if I hadn't esca- hadn't left when I did last time.

[howdull]

You know, contrary to what both of you think, the police aren't completely bloody useless. This is what we do, we catch psychos for a living, so maybe you could've left it to us?

[He's so mad, and it isn't helped by the fact that Sherlock is completely ignoring him, eyes closed and fingers laced on his chest.]

You're both under bloody house arrest, you hear me? I'll let you help with the clues, but you're not leaving here until she's caught.

[jumpthegun]

[John glares at Lestrade, looking positively mutinous. He smooths that expression over after a moment and locks into something cool and calm... Captain Watson.]

He's got ricin poisoning. Of course we aren't going anywhere for a while.

[Which is to say, John seriously doubts Lestrade can keep them under house arrest longer than that.]

Molly needs her car back. And why d'you think we contacted you? We work together, detective inspector. It's my understanding that's how you've worked with Sherlock on the past. We don't have all of your resources, and you don't have all of ours. Or have I missed something?

[howdull]

[Lestrade isn't going to let himself be bullied, glaring right back at John as he slips into the role of army officer.]

Yeah-- yes, we work together, and I stick my neck right out on the line letting it go as much as I do. But I'm still a damn police officer, do you know how much trouble I'd be in if they found out I let two injured people, victims and relations of victims of the perpetrator, get involved with this?

[He sighs.]

Besides, you're my friends, I'm not keen on watching you kill yourselves. So you stay here and work on clues I bring you, we have a deal?

[Sherlock rolls his eyes, opens his mouth to deliver a scathing retort, and instead finds himself having to tear the oxygen mask off and roll over to be sick in the bin. Irritating.]

[jumpthegun]

[John watches Sherlock impassively.]

I think that means yes for now. [For now.] What have you got?

[howdull]

[Lestrade wrinkles his nose at the smell, but he gets his notebook out all the same to read from.]

Danny Matthews suffered a gun shot wound to the abdomen, he was treated in the field by Captain Watson and then shipped back to England in a coma. When he woke up, they discovered that he'd suffered brain injuries, likely because of a lack of oxygen or blood loss during the time taken to get to him on the battlefield. He killed himself seven months later.

[jumpthegun]

[John's expression only flickers for a moment to something pained. He draws up his walls a moment later.]

I see. And the wife?