Repulsed by the smell of sterility, she quickened her pace to complete the task at hand. A hasty glance about and she slinked through the door; the heart monitor instantaneously caused her own pulse to spike before she commanded it into submission. The great and powerful Sherlock, back from the dead, even before she technically was allowed to be, lay deep in the throes of a drug induced sleep. Vases crowded the shelf to her left; a sly half-smile played on her unstained lips as she knew the proper way to leave her calling card in a way that only he would understand.

Deftly, her manicured fingers pulled, albeit tenderly, before extending upwards to persuade a wandering curl. Pausing to caress the bandage, she knew her visitation window was coming to an end and shifted to arrange her signature. She tucked the gown into her purse, refusing to part with his scent in her clandestine retreat.

Sluggishly, his eyelids pushed open by sheer force of willpower, the pressure cuff gripping his arm as it inflated. Of course he saw it, positioned so obviously, but Janine demanded her requital, rightfully so.

Morphine reduced following Janine's departure, a smirk tugged at Sherlock's lips realizing his state of undress, chastising himself for the lag of deduction. The single red rose, corresponding to her lips, swayed his gaze; the curve of the glass vase reminding him of her shoulders, waist, thighs, all flawless.

Unexpectedly agitated, he barked at the recently appeared nurse for his mobile, growling his request when she balked. The device retrieved, he held it in his palm, hidden under the sheet which elicited another grin at his near nakedness.

I'm bored. Let's have dinner. ~SH

His thumb pressed the delete key until it was gone, eyes never leaving the rose.