(Untitled)

[sh_consulting]

WHO: sh_consulting and paints_lanterns
WHERE: Sherlock's hospital bed (Rossum Facility? not sure.)
WHEN: Saturday Jan 28
WARNINGS: Sherlock is an ass as always
SUMMARY: Sherlock is just so bored he finally caves and sends Rapunzel a ludicrous number of texts to come see if she can heal him.
FORMAT: Starting para but you can switch to action if you like :)

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[paints_lanterns]

Rapunzel's phone had been very angry at her when she'd woken up and eventually extracted the beeping device from somewhere in the sea of hair that surrounded her bed. 'You have 39 new messages' it declared rather pointedly at her, the message blinking in what she was certain were much bigger, far more accusatory letters than usual.

So she read them, and they were all from that same rather rude man who'd completely dismissed her offer to help him before. And had apparently changed his mind, which didn't actually surprise Rapunzel. No one enjoyed being injured, right

[sh_consulting]

The very rude man whose initials were SH was lying in the hospital bed, staring irritably at the ceiling as the fingers of his right hand tapped incessantly at his side. The knock broke through his thoughts instantly, and he straightened up to look, wincing as the pain lanced through his side.

When he saw her, tiny white notes began to pop up everywhere, but they were entirely jumbled in strange little symbols. Reading everything about her at a glance but working hard to keep it to himself. He didn't need to antagonize her.

"Perfect." His voice was better than it had been in the days previous, but it was still rough.

He was bandaged nearly from head to toe, a laptop to his side on the right, the communicator resting before the keyboard. Trying to keep himself busy.

"I see you got my texts."

[paints_lanterns]

"Well, there were so many, I couldn't have missed them!" She closed the door as she stepped into the room, and Pascal hopped out of her braid onto her shoulder, peering at Sherlock with an 'I don't trust you' expression on his little lizard face.

"Are you supposed to be sitting up?" Her voice sounded worried, despite him being a jerk, as she moved over to pause next to the bed, staring down at him. "You look terrible." She added, unconsciously wrapping on arm around her waist and tugging at a spot of fabric on her dress, an unconscious, nervous habit really.

[sh_consulting]

"Effective communication is important." He said, before he frowned at the lizard, brows knitted. Were they supposed to be quite so expressive...?

"Thank you for pointing out the obvious." He said dryly after the word 'terrible'. He tried to pull himself further up, grunting slightly. "It is the general reaction to gravity, yes." His eyes, however, were trained to her hair. "I assume it is the same length that it was? The braid seems... especially effective."