"Why are you here?"

Mycroft just smiles at him. "Merely concerned for you. Is that alright?"

"No, it's not. You've never been this worried when I was in the hospital. For what reason are you now?"

Mycroft twirls his umbrella and shifts. "Oh, I think there are plenty. Shall I start with the mildest?" He takes Sherlock's silence as a go-ahead and continues, "You've been at this hospital all night. Not only has this affected your health and judgment, but it's unusual for you and warrants my attention. You haven't eaten properly since three weeks ago when I forced you, and you now appear to be rejecting food again, much like you do when on a case."

"You are not planning on taking care of basic hygiene since it is too 'inconvenient' at the moment and you look a wreck. You are not planning on taking any cases, including the one Detective Inspector Lestrade is about to phone you about as you are too wound up with this. You are angry and want to hurt someone, preferably the people who harmed John, and you are concerned about John's mental state as it is no longer something you understand and can balance. How far this whole matter has fallen from your hands has made you feel incapable and irritated, but what's worse is that as prime health contact, flatmate, and 'best friend' it is technically your duty to help 'fix' John, which has made you uneasy and has given you the odd feeling of being... Unqualified."

"Of course not!" Sherlock snaps angrily.

"And why not?! Admit it brother, you have absolutely no idea in the slightest on how to care for someone as needy and dependant as a thoroughly traumatized torture victim." His eyes narrow. "You're over your head just considering it. I suggest you-"

"I what, Mycroft? Step back? Let someone else handle him? He has no one else!"

"No Sherlock, not exactly. I meant that you should let someone more capable take care of him," Mycroft says sternly. "I know a few select professionals who could-"

"No Mycroft! That won't help him and you know it! You'd just be alienating him from what he knows," Sherlock snaps. "He'll just get worse. He needs-"

"How would you know what he needs?" Mycroft asks, enunciating it carefully as if speaking to someone less intelligent. "You can't even decipher his emotional process when he's sane so let me help you."

"Lestrade will help me. And Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock decides firmly.

"Ah," Mycroft counters. "But how much 'help' will they be? The Detective Inspector doesn't have a lot of time on his hands with his job, and Mrs. Hudson is just an elderly landlady. You cannot possibly expect her to be of much help. Face it Sherlock, he needs help that you can't give."

"You can't give it either! The only reason you're doing this is so I won't be affected by him, isn't that right?"

"Caring isn't an advantage Sherlock. Isn't that what I've told you? And now look at yourself."

"Mycroft, I am fine."

"We both know that isn't true."

" I am! And I'm perfectly capable of handling John without your 'assistance'!"

"Denial proves nothing brother."

Sherlock angrily grabs a basket of pens and throws them at Mycroft hard. "Get out!"

Mycroft easily dodges them, then turns to leave. "I'll be monitoring your 'handling' of the situation. My offer will remain open." And then he's gone.

Sherlock remains on his feet, fuming until a nurse tells him he's allowed to go into John's room.

John's eyes are half-lidded and glazed, a clear effect of the medication he's on, but he's still able to turn his gaze towards Sherlock.

Sherlock shifts uneasily. What did one say to someone in John's state? 'Good morning' seemed a little out of place.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, likely the call from Lestrade predicted by his brother. The reminder of their argument sparks Sherlock to move, wanting to disprove Mycroft.

He steps a foot or two closer and hesitates before commenting, "you're looking... Not as bad."

John's eyes drift from his, losing focus just as easily as he had in their last recent meetings. With a sigh, Sherlock grabs a chair and sits next to the bed. "How are you?" He tries.

His flatmate continues to ignore his existence in favor of studyinging a collection of medical tools on a counter across the room and Sherlock finally, losing his patience, presses both hands on either side of John's head and guides him back to face him. John's only response is to stiffen uncomfortably, but he makes the effort to struggle to focus on Sherlock's eyes after a moment.

"Listen to me John, I know you're in a bad way from what's been done to you, but I need you to listen," Sherlock starts. "We have to know who did this to you so we can catch them. You don't want them to hurt other people, correct? Of course not. So I need you to remember. You have to tell me."

John shuts his eyes tightly and tries to pull away.

"John-" Sherlock cuts off when two hands softly press on his chest, pushing him back.

Somehow he had discomforted John with his actions already. Was he being too blunt? Was it his timing? Those were usually his two main failures with emotionally imbalanced people. Either way, he was clearly supposed to back off.

Sherlock settles back against the chair with a sigh. That information was important. But he had to take care of John first.

Glancing his way, he notices that John had gotten shivery again. "I... I'm supposed to take care of you now... I think," Sherlock tells him, wanting to make sure John was told before he fell asleep again.

John simply watches him drowsily, either not understanding or not caring about the information.

.£.

Mrs. Hudson greets him with a smile when he walks through the door.

"Oh, hello dear! I didn't expect you back!" Her expression sombers slightly and she adds, "It isn't about John right?"

"No Mrs. Hudson, John's... Well, he's as well as can be expected." He assures and goes upstairs to the flat.

Human nature was not his specialty. He didn't know how to fix a broken person, he was a detective for heaven's sake! Not a bloody psycologist!

How the heck was he supposed to manage this?

If there are any Brits out there that want to correct my silly American ignorance in any subject, feel totally free.

Actually, any readers who feel my writing failing, feel free to critique and help. I can't keep ideas straight in my head and they come out all weird in writing, so I'm bound to have a few spots that deteriorate.

Also, any ideas for odd behavior? I have a few, but suggestions are completely welcome.