[Sherlock Holmes felt like he'd been through Hell. Everything hurt. His arm and back were throbbing, and the bits of dreaming he could remember baffled him.
Moriarty and wings and John...
It didn't surprise him when he opened his eyes and saw white walls. Something must have gone wrong with either an attempt to keep working or an attempt to sleep. He'd never been sedated throughout all of his allotted detox before being sent to a clinic, but he supposed it was possible. Especially if he'd gotten into a fight-- felt like he had-- and needed pain killers.
He shifted, pressing his arms against the matress. His back hurt badly, which explained lying face down. Yet, even as he tried to sit up, he made a sound of pain, and his head throbbed. For a moment... he sank back to the bed.
(Luceti) [action, clinic : March 19th, morning]
Moriarty and wings and John...
It didn't surprise him when he opened his eyes and saw white walls. Something must have gone wrong with either an attempt to keep working or an attempt to sleep. He'd never been sedated throughout all of his allotted detox before being sent to a clinic, but he supposed it was possible. Especially if he'd gotten into a fight-- felt like he had-- and needed pain killers.
He shifted, pressing his arms against the matress. His back hurt badly, which explained lying face down. Yet, even as he tried to sit up, he made a sound of pain, and his head throbbed. For a moment... he sank back to the bed.
Getting up wasn't worth it right now.]