Sherlock moves to sit back in the drivers' seat, trying to work out what it is that he wants from this, from giving her up. He can't---he shouldn't care about her safety, he tells himself. He shouldn't care, but he does. He tries to delete that emotion, but finds it impossible. He tells himself he simply wants to be more efficient at his plans. This works for a moment, but he knows that it isn't true.
He's wrapped up in his thoughts for so long that he fails to notice the male nurses who come out to the car until they have their hands on his arms.
"We've got you," they say. "It's all right, man, we'll get you help."
Whatever the Woman told the nurse, it keeps him from convincing them he's fine. He finds himself in his own room with a sedative drip on top of the fluid IVs he has. A bone in his hand is set, and the cuts he failed to take the glass out of are cleaned and stitched.
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Date: 2012-08-19 05:09 am (UTC)He's wrapped up in his thoughts for so long that he fails to notice the male nurses who come out to the car until they have their hands on his arms.
"We've got you," they say. "It's all right, man, we'll get you help."
Whatever the Woman told the nurse, it keeps him from convincing them he's fine. He finds himself in his own room with a sedative drip on top of the fluid IVs he has. A bone in his hand is set, and the cuts he failed to take the glass out of are cleaned and stitched.
He hates the Woman for putting him through this.