The Hound, The Spider, and The Kitten
Hello! Neve here with another new project. It's sort of similar to The Deal, but rather than having Avie, who's just plain evil like Jimmy, we have Katherine. I chose the name Katherine because I was thinking about the Tudors, and how Katherine Howard got involved in a relationship and affair with men who were very powerful, and it brought about her doom. My Katherine obviously isn't involved with kings, but being torn between Sherlock and Moriarty is dangerous enough. Katherine Rochester is a doctor, because she needs to be able to keep up with these two geniuses! Anyway. Please review!
Katherine Rochester was in a sort of hazy dream-bubble, the sort that encloses you when you've only had a few hours sleep. She brushed a bit of fluff off of her pale blue scrubs and yawned. Unfortunately for Katherine, her supervisor, Doctor Cheng, chose that moment to round the corner. "Rochester, I swear, if you're sleeping again…" Leah Cheng was nice enough, but when it came to keeping her task force of residents and interns under control, she was scary.
"I'm not, ma'am, I swear," Katherine said, blinking to make herself look more awake.
Leah surveyed her for a moment before she sighed. "Alright. Get your butt down to the emergency room. They need hands. A couple of policemen have just arrived."
Katherine perked up at once. No more paperwork! She gave Leah a grateful smile and then shot off to the emergency room. Once the elevator dinged and Katherine had collected her chart, she went off to find a patient that wasn't being attended. Towards the end of the long room she could hear people arguing. "For god's sake, Sherlock, you're bleeding!" a grey-haired man was saying irately.
"John could have fixed it, he's a doctor," a voice belonging to someone out of Katherine's vision line said almost petulantly.
"No, I couldn't," a dark-blonde haired man, presumably John, said.
The grey haired man finally noticed Katherine.
"Oh, good. This one's bleeding. I warn you, though, he'll probably be a pain in the arse before he lets you fix his arm," the grey-haired man said.
Police officer, Katherine decided in her mind.
"It's fine, Mr…?"
"Lestrade. Detective Inspector Lestrade."
"Well, then, Detective Inspector, I'll be fine. Can you give us some room, then?" Katherine asked politely. Lestrade and John moved.
"Behave." John called warningly over his shoulder.
"Behaving is dull," the third voice said. Katherine walked around the curtain and got a look at the man who was injured. He was tall, really tall, with dark curly hair, and the palest blue-grey eyes Katherine had ever seen. He had a long coat draped over one arm and he wore a scarf. He'd rolled up the sleeve of his dark purple shirt, to reveal his arm, which was bleeding rather profusely. Katherine pulled a biro out of her scrubs pocket and picked up the chart which she'd set aside. Laceration to the forearm. Reasonably deep. Stitches required, she scribbled down.
"Alright, then, sir. I'm going to need to take down your basic details…" Katherine said politely.
"Sherlock Holmes. The address is 221B Baker Street," the man said, wincing as he inspected his arm. Katherine couldn't help but gawk for a moment.
"Sherlock Holmes? As in, the consulting detective?"
"The very same, doctor…?"
"Rochester. Katherine Rochester."
Sherlock flashed her a half grin. "Am I going to need stitches, then, doctor?"
Katherine pulled on a pair of gloves. "I dare say you might, Mr Holmes."
She reached for the clean tray of surgical equipment. Thank god he didn't need surgery, just a few stitches. "Damn. Forgot the morphine," she said, "back in a tick."
"Wait." Sherlock Holmes' voice startled her.
"Pardon?" Katherine was confused.
He looked a tad sheepish. "Can you do it without the morphine?"
Katherine surveyed him for a moment, trying to sense a masochist. He didn't look the type.
"Why? It'll hurt like hell," Katherine asked. She knew it wasn't necessarily her business to ask, but Sherlock Holmes intrigued her. His sheepish look increased, and he looked down at the polished floor.
"I used to have, shall we say, a fondness for morphine," he admitted.
Oh. Katherine felt bad for asking. "Sorry," she mumbled.
He grinned at her again. "Don't apologize, you didn't know. I'd appreciate if you kept that to yourself though, eh?"
Katherine nodded. "I can do that." She reached for the needle.
"Keep me distracted will you? I'm in no doubt when you say it'll hurt." Sherlock grimaced.
Katherine was surprised by this one too. "Umm… okay. What'll distract you?"
He didn't answer, so she supposed she was meant to come up with that answer. Aha! He was Sherlock Holmes, was he not? Katherine had an idea.
"They say you can tell someone's life story just by looking at them," said Katherine as she began to stitch up the deep wound. Sherlock visibly winced. Katherine bit her lip, empathizing with him.
"That's true," Sherlock agreed.
"What can you tell about me?" Katherine asked, genuinely interested.
Sherlock considered for a moment. "Katherine Rochester, twenty… five? Nearly twenty six. Born in London, lived here all your life. You became a doctor because you want to help people. Your parents are dead. The only family you have is an estranged aunt, and you'd never go to her for help, probably because of her lifestyle choices – drugs, maybe? Or alcohol? I would hazard middle to upper class when you were growing up, you're bilingual, most likely in Latin. Oh, and you prefer diminuatives when among friends and loved ones. Is that all of it?" Sherlock reeled off without batting an eye.
Katherine blinked, stitching in silence for a moment. That had been amazing.
"You're right. I am nearly twenty six, I was born in London and have lived here for the majority of my life. I became a doctor because I wanted to help people, didn't want to sit by whilst people died. My parents are dead, and I don't speak to my aunt because she's a crack addict on the dole. I was middle-upper class, and I speak Latin fluently because I began in med school. And yes, I prefer diminuatives, but that's not entirely professional for a doctor. Here you are. You're all done." Katherine finished up with the stitches and carefully bandaged the detective's arm.
"Thank you, miss Katherine," said Sherlock gratefully.
Katherine returned his smile. "I hope I don't see you back in here again," she told him, though I hope to see you again elsewhere, she added in her head silently.
"I try not to get injured," said Sherlock, "But if you ever need anything, miss Katherine, the address is 221B Baker Street."
And with a final smile, he was gone striding out of the emergency department with Lestrade and John on his heels, leaving Katherine gazing after him. 221B Baker Street, Katherine commited the name to memory.
"Oi, Katherine Rochester!" Leah Cheng seemed to appear out of nowhere.
"Ma'am! Sorry!" Katherine jumped.
"You, my girl, look like you've just fallen in love," said Leah, shaking her head.
Katherine blushed furiously. "No, ma'am," she stammered out.
Leah rolled her eyes. She was fond of Katherine, really, but sometimes the girl's detatchment from the moving world around her was a tad infuriating. At the same time it was endearing. Still. It was her job as head of the team to keep her team members moving.
"Back to work, Rochester," she chided.
"Yes, ma'am." Katherine said, and, still blushing furiously, she hurried off to attend her next patient, trying to push all thoughts of the handsome detective from her mind.
Okay. So, let me know what you think? And can someone who has recently watched Grey's Anatomy remind me of the ranks again: I know it goes Intern then Resident, but what's the head of a team of Residents called? Thanks!
Please review, tell me what you think so far of how I've written Sherlock, and your thoughts on Katherine!
Next chapter, they meet again!
Til then!
- Neve