"Doctor, I'm hungry."

The doctor walked over to the wiry man's bed. "I'm sorry, but you just had lunch."

The man clenched his fists. "But I'm hungry!" he shouted.

The doctor sighed. "Later, you can have a snack."

The patient made a face and curled up on his bed. "It's so boring here," he confessed. "Nobody will let me do anything."

"Well, what do you want to do?"

The man stared at him blankly. "I don't know, Doctor. I don't know."

"There must be something that you used to like doing," the doctor prompted. "What did you like to do before you came here?"

"I didn't like to be bored," the patient chuckled. "Doctor, would you mind reading one of those books to me? I'm pretty sure that you have before, and, well, I don't really remember them."

The doctor smiled as he reached for the top book. "If you ever need to hide a pack of cigarettes, hide them under a skull."

The doctor read the story for the remainder of his visit, keeping his eyes on both the pages and the patient. Sometimes the man laughed, other times he just sat and listened. Yet now his face was entirely different. He was concentrating on him.

"Honestly, John, were you really that daft?"

The doctor looked up at the patient, searching his eyes. Sparks danced in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, what?" The doctor asked, hoping for a miracle.

"You were really quite idiotic," the man said with a smile. "Now don't take offense to that, John. I think everyone's an idiot. Even myself."

"Sherlock, you're not an idiot."

"John, I can't remember where I am most of the time. And I used to be so clever."

"You still are," John answered.

"Now you're just being kind. I have early-onset Alzheimer's at the grand old age of fifty-three. Well, let's see what I can do today. You have bread crumbs on your sleeve that are too big to be from toast, so I'll guess muffin," Sherlock rattled. "You have dirt under your fingernails, suggesting that you've been planting something in the flower pots outside your apartment. The circles under your eyes-" he stopped and shook his head. "The circles... I'm losing it again, aren't I? And I really don't want to go. I'm so tired of forgetting the adventures; forgetting Mycroft, Molly, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade... and you."

"Sherlock..."

The sparks were gone.

"What was I saying?" Sherlock asked, his eyes wandering around the room. "Doctor, I'm tired. I'm just going to sleep."

John nodded. "I'll visit again soon. Be good for the nurses."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Good is boring."

John squeezed his friend's shoulder before making his way to the door. "I'll see you soon, Sherlock."

"Before you come back, would you buy some milk?"

John turned and smiled. "Of course I will. Always have."