[When John wakes, it's beyond disorienting. Every memory from Norfinbury is sharp and fresh, which is why he has a momentary panic reaction inside his body bag. He gets himself out and sits up on the slab, staring around. Mary is there, staring at him wide-eyed and concerned, of course.
This... isn't Culverton's hospital, she offers.]
I noticed.
[But then, what is he doing here? Five years of memories are packed into his head and the most recent three and a half months of those feel just as sharp and vivid as the ones from here. Beating Sherlock, standing with him in Culverton's hospital, looking over his bed, Mary's final message...
Is this a dream? Or was everything else a dream. He looks over at Mary again, brow furrowing in confusion. She's real.
Are you sure?
No, he's not. He's not sure of anything right at this very moment, except that the tablet at his feet is pinging incessantly with missed message notifications. It's Sherlock. Of course it's Sherlock. So, he's here, back from the dead. No. Wait, did he die, or did John just imagine that? It's difficult to tell at the moment. He does respond, regardless, because he's not sure if this real and if it is, then maybe he's drugged at Culverton's hospital. And Sherlock is trying to get to him, escape Culverton. John knows the other man is in danger, either way.
Put himself in danger for you, Mary corrects. John casts her a mild frown.]
Yeah, Sherlock, I'm here. Where are you?
[Christ, John, he just told you he loves you. Say something else.]
@jwatson; audio
This... isn't Culverton's hospital, she offers.]
I noticed.
[But then, what is he doing here? Five years of memories are packed into his head and the most recent three and a half months of those feel just as sharp and vivid as the ones from here. Beating Sherlock, standing with him in Culverton's hospital, looking over his bed, Mary's final message...
Is this a dream? Or was everything else a dream. He looks over at Mary again, brow furrowing in confusion. She's real.
Are you sure?
No, he's not. He's not sure of anything right at this very moment, except that the tablet at his feet is pinging incessantly with missed message notifications. It's Sherlock. Of course it's Sherlock. So, he's here, back from the dead. No. Wait, did he die, or did John just imagine that? It's difficult to tell at the moment. He does respond, regardless, because he's not sure if this real and if it is, then maybe he's drugged at Culverton's hospital. And Sherlock is trying to get to him, escape Culverton. John knows the other man is in danger, either way.
Put himself in danger for you, Mary corrects. John casts her a mild frown.]
Yeah, Sherlock, I'm here. Where are you?
[Christ, John, he just told you he loves you. Say something else.]