(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 :)

Comments

[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?

It took her about an hour to braid her hair, get dressed and gather up Pascal, and then another hour to find the proper bus for getting to the address in the messages. Which resulted in her having to wait till a second bus, since the first one refused to let her on without shoes on. Of course.

But eventually she arrived at the hospital, tucking Pascal into her braid while she asked at the desk for 'that very rude man, his initials are SH' and eventually getting directed to Sherlock's room. She hesitated for almost a minute, not really looking forward to an argument about magic but certainly wanting to heal someone before she knocked lightly, pushing the door open a couple inches with her fingers so she could peer inside.

"Hello?"

[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."

[paints_lanterns]

Well, whether they were supposed to be or not, Pascal certainly was. His disdain was rather evident on his face, really, as he watched Sherlock like a hawk.

"What? Oh, yes..." Rapunzel seemed content to ignore his snips, focusing instead on the actual question. She looked around until she found a chair, then scooted it over next to the bed and sat down, tugging her braid into her lap. It was heavy enough it actually thumped.

"I've had a lot of practice getting it just right." She explained as she undid a small section of it, letting several feet of her hair spill out onto the floor.

[sh_consulting]

He ignored the lizard soon afterward, a mental check note assuming it had something to do with the Porter, and therefore not of his interest.

He watched with no small amount of curiosity as she undid the braid, a small counter appearing next to it that accurately measured it as she let it fall lose, the numbers rolling like a ticker. Then math started scrawling across the air, mental arithmetic to determine the rate at which the braid was created, how many inches of braid meant how many feet, and then adding them up accordingly.

The numbers seemed to match.

"As I said. Efficient. Does the power work even when braided?"

[paints_lanterns]

Once she had let out about half of the golden locks, pooled around her chair, she stopped, leaving the rest of it braided. "I don't know," she said, turning back to him and smiling. "It should. But I've never had a reason to try, and wrapping my braid around an injury would be..." She smiled a bit sheepishly. "Heavy."

She was studying him as she talked, and finally she pointed at his arm. "Since you were scared, we'll start with just your arm, okay? And if it doesn't bother you anymore, we'll do the rest!"

[sh_consulting]

He narrowed his eyes at the word 'scared', and held out his right arm. He left was the broken one, but the right still had long, scabbing gashes down the back and shoulder where it had met pavement.

"Start with the flesh wounds." Communicator in hand, he set a clock to 0:00:00. Despite the narrowed eyes and the slight wariness, there was a burning curiosity there too. He didn't blink.

[paints_lanterns]

Rapunzel wasn't sure what she had expected, but thinking about it, the bluntness seemed appropriate considering how he typed. Not that it would have stopped her either way, considering she was such a softy, but the thought of not helping him almost crossed her mind.

After a moment though, she picked up some of her loose hair and wrapped it gently around his arm where the bandages were. "Now, this may feel a little bit strange, okay? But don't freak out or anything and try not to move too much." She closed her eyes, resting her hands on top of the hair wrapped around his arm, and began to sing.

As she sang, the light raced out from her forehead in a gentle wave, vanishing into her braid, which lit up much akin to lights stuttering on in a skyscraper as the hair rushed towards the ends. When it finally reached his arm, he'd feel a tingle along his injuries, and they'd even start to glow faintly under the bandage.