Hello, whilst writing my sequel I've been quite distracted by this idea. There will be guy love in the future so be warned :)

Love to you all

Nicole

[Music: The Heart Asks Pleasure First- From The Piano {Classical}]

John Watson hurried down the corridor of the clinical building, strip lights shadowing his face as each one passed overhead. His pager let out another shrill cry as he swept into the Chief of Medical Staff's office.

"Ah, Doctor Watson, so glad you could join me," he said, sighing in impatience

"I'm so sorry sir; I've been caught up doing rounds with the interns, one of the doctors decided to go home and no-one realised until one of them said-" John tried to explain but the Chief cut him off.

"Be quiet Doctor Watson, I'm not here to tell you off, I'm here to promote you," he said simply

John's rambling stopped immediately.

"I'm sorry what?" John asked, dumbfounded

"I'm promoting you, you've worked here now for just over 4 years, from your work I think you're the perfect candidate for this opportunity," the Chief continued "it will require you to move but from your dedication to your profession I hardly doubt that will an issue, you have no girlfriend, boyfriend or ties?" he asked, John shook his head awkwardly "yes, well, sometimes it's better this way and you never know, this may be a good opportunity to find someone, start a family, I'm sure you'd want that"

John smiled politely and lightly nodded in agreement "Sorry, sir, but where is this placement?" he asked

"It's in London, John," the Chief replied, smiling at John's reaction, as his jaw hit the white, sterile floor "and don't worry yourself for accommodation, the hospital you'll be working in have it all under control, they'll provide you with the money for it for around a year or so until you get your bearings in the new environment and then you'll start earning your keep,"

"And the salary?" John added hesitantly

The Chief looked around, walking past John, peeking out of the door, checking either way and closing it, a nervous look on his face.

"It's £45 000 per annual," he said quietly "I was just checking no-one could hear, I don't want the others to know this opportunity was open, or they'll all hate me,"

John laughed nervously and started to leave, his legs like jelly and his brain hazed over in happiness.

"Oh and Doctor Watson,"

"Sir?"

"I don't think that I could have picked anyone better," he said honestly, smiling genuinely "the papers will be with by the evening, you can prepare your things to leave now if you like, you are dismissed,"

Breathing out shakily John walked back to his locker room, pulling off his scrubs he still couldn't believe what was happening to him, he was being referred to a better place. London! He thought excitedly. As a young adult John had always tried to go to London as much as he could, it was one place felt so at home and compared to the town he lived in now his excitement was almost to the point of being uncontained, John couldn't believe he was going to start living in the place he'd only dreamed to live in a few years ago. And as he excited the building and made his way to his hospital accommodation he couldn't help but feel the spring in his step.

This is what these years have been for he thought all the training, the exams, the adrenaline and the revision. This is what I've been working for; to have reached my dream of living in London and to have reached my dream profession. It just feels like my life's beginning to fit somehow, like the many pieces of a puzzle were chucked out at sea but are now washing up onto the beach below, forming the perfect picture. John smiled even more as he reached for his keys, opened the flat door and ran into his room, desperate to pack his belongings, not caring just how little he had.

X-X-X-X-X

Later that evening there was a knock at the door. John walked over to it, a bottle of beer in one hand and opened the lock with the other. He was greeted by the informal picture that was his former Chief, a file in one hand and a Dominoes pizza in the other.

"This is your information pack, with train tickets and directions included," he handed over the file, then handed over the pizza, John placed the file on the magazine stand next the sofa and returned to get the pizza "and this is a peace offering from me being a complete bastard when you first arrived," he finished, John placed that on the kitchen work surface and turned to see his Chief holding out his hand "goodbye John,"

John smiled "Goodbye sir," he said clasping the hand and shaking it thoroughly and with one more nod of the head and a smile John waved goodbye to one of the people in his life to whom he'd never forget.

Running a hand over his face he picked up the pizza, took a swig of the beer, which had been in his hand all the time, flumped onto the sofa, grabbed one of the pieces of pizza and carried on watching the TV, leaving the file for the morning and when he felt like he could face his exiting new future because if he was honest, it was all moving a bit fast at the moment.

X-X-X-X-X

The next few days flew past far too fast for Johns liking because one minute he was being told about his new life and the next he was waiting on the platform, all his possessions stored within two rather large suitcases as the rest had been gotten rid of or, as John preferred to call it: "donated to the local charity shop". John was never one for sentiments and was quite happy to depart with some unnecessary objects he'd held onto for too many years.

As he got onto the waiting train he took one last deep breath of his hometown, pushed his wheeled suitcases onto the luggage racks as best he could and then took his seat, waiting for the train to depart from the station. After a few minutes the final people ran onto the train in a flustered manner and the door closed with the electronic beeping John was used to and the journey began to his new home.

He watched the countryside whirl by for a while, smiling at the prospect of London but decided to put his time to better use. Pulling out the London A to Z he had in his satchel (he'd had it since he'd been a teenager, it had always been something he'd shied from using on the street whilst in London if he could, wanting to look like a city boy, walking confidently around the city, and he really felt as if he belonged there. He had the map for the hospital he was working at and his new home all on one sheet and he just wanted to go over it to check he had it right one more time. His flat was in St. John's Wood, on Cavendish Avenue, he'd been assured the rent would be kind and that there was two bedrooms and a comfortable living space for him to relax in, a new kitchen and a small back yard.

The two hours passed reasonably well, John decided to use his oyster card for the first time rather than buy a day travel ticket like a tourist (to which he now sniggered at the idea of being a Londoner rather than a tourist) and as he alighted from the train a sense of nervousness and adrenaline swept his system but he brushed it to one side and set off to get onto the right line to get to his new abode.

Checking his phone for Underground updates (yes, he really had taken moving to London completely seriously) John hopped onto the tube East bound to Baker Street then got onto the Metropolitan Line until he reached St. John's Wood station, got onto Wellington Road and then, after a short walk, found the right hand turning to Circus Road, took another short walk until he saw the sign for Cavendish Avenue and turned off to his new road and his new home. Walking down the street he saw all the houses, they were terrace, Victorian, and incredibly beautiful, their wrought iron gates in a coal black and the intricate swirls that stood on the posts like aged steel guards.

Finally finding his new house he stared in awe at its size. It was a two storey building but it was stunning, the old frame windows were painted white and there was a bay window in the front room, a huge step introduced itself as John lugged his two massive suitcases into the small porch of the house before reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out his keys and opening the front door for the very first time.

John gasped as he saw the surroundings for the very first time. The floor was old Victorian white and black tiled with red tiles on either side of the corridor floor leading to the base of the stairway. There was an immediate right turning into the front living room and the second living room was the next right off the corridor, John followed the second right and then walked into the second living room and dropped his stuff, looking around in amazement. The room was completely white, but he'd been told he could paint it any colour he liked but if John were honest he preferred things neat, tidy and clinical. There was a Wenlock fire in the hearth that looked almost original, the quarry tiled floor was authentic and beautiful, the window that was looking out over the small yard he had was on the left hand wall, it was to one side because of the kitchens positioning and let white, clean light stream through as the white voile gave the room a creepy edge, there was also a new sofa, nothing posh, just a cream bog-standard sofa with an accompanying armchair. John wandered into the kitchen, noticing the new oven and the new work surface, noting how the entire house was set up for a person to just start living there.

Exploring upstairs John found the bathroom, the spare bedroom, his bedroom, kitted out with a wardrobe, a set of Ikea Chester-draws and whilst he went back onto the landing he decided to venture up into the attic conversion which was quite small, John realised it hadn't been noted as a proper bedroom because it'd be for a normal family to put boxes of spare possessions but John reckoned it could be quite a nice study to work in if this new job needed him to.

Walking back down the steps from the attic conversion John decided it was about time to start unpacking his things.

But he started by unpacking his favourite mug and a tea bag and relaxed with a cup of tea.

X-X-X-X-X

It didn't take long for John to unpack everything, a few ornaments had come with him and they were placed around the house, making it home. A few books were set over the fire on the mantle-piece and John had set his jacket in the hallway on the waiting hook, as it had waited patiently, ready to serve its purpose.

John sat down on the sofa and knew, in that moment that he'd be happy here.

He also knew something else.

He desperately needed a TV.

X-X-X-X-X

John woke the next morning to the soothing sound of Classic FM. Pulling on his terry cloth dressing gown he walked to the bathroom and grabbed a nice, long, warm shower.

Approximately 13 minutes later he got out of the shower, his normally tanned face, bright pink and flushed, he looked like he run a marathon, not had one of the most relaxing showers of his whole life. Sighing he pulled on a new pair of pants and some clean, smart clothes before walking to his new hospital 'Hospital of St. John and St. Elizabeth' which was cleverly situated incredibly near to his new house. As he approached the building he noted its gauntness, its shadowy windows, like old men's eyes glared down at John. Its grey brickwork making the gothic period features stand out cruelly against the array of cars parked in front of the building, like the building was disgusted by the colour on the street below.

Using his new pass-card he swiped the modern security door and walked into the large yard, heading for the main entrance, but as he made his way to the door it opened and a tall man walked out. His hair was dark brown, almost black and the natural curls twisted around his pale face, framing it spectacularly. His pale blue/grey condescending eyes followed John as he made his way forward, cat-like features looking patiently at the new man. John assumed he was a doctor, the clinical white scrubs where hanging from the man's thin frame and as John approached him John gave him a warm "Hi" and pushed the door open and walked inside.

Three facts were obvious about what John found out in the five seconds:

He knew this place was a mental health facility, but he would have never guessed it would be to such a severe degree, there were bars on the windows, padlocks on doors, baby doors on the door frames to stop patients from escaping and a box of new straps waiting by the door.

The man outside had certainly piqued his interest because he found he couldn't get him out of his head, even after discarding his relevance to John's (new) life.

John was panicking in his brain. It screamed "Oh god, are those scratches on the walls?" "Is that a stain of blood on the floor?" "Was that a scream for help I just heard?" "I'll never get used to it here…I'm screwed," all at the same time, making John feel light-headed and faint.

Walking into reception as confidently as he could muster he got directed by the receptionist to a corridor just off the main hall and saw the door had:

Professor Michael Fletcher

Head of St Johns and St. Elizabeth's Hospital

John took a breath and knocked on the door.

"Enter," called a voice

John walked in and saw in front of him a man, in his mid-forties, balding head with short grey hair, thin rimmed spectacles perched on his nose, a nose that John had to admit was larger than most, thin lips and an intrigued look placed upon his face.

"Ah, Doctor Watson, I was told you were starting today," he said, smiling warmly extending a hand "I'm the boss here so if you any questions please, feel free to ask, and I'll do my best to help in any way necessary."

John nodded and let Michael continue.

"Here at St John's, (we refer to here as that, saves time) we have three rules:

One, remember the person you're treating is a human being, so be completely respectful.

Two, always help other doctors or nurses in any way that is possible and finally;

Three, if you find your patient is being abusive, loud and disrupting other patients, administer a sedative as soon as you can, we don't want the other patients to suffer because one selfish patient it making them uncomfortable or upset,"

John's brain was a flurry of cogs Sedate? What? Surely that isn't ethical, you can't sweep it under the carpet… John realised Michael was talking again and he tuned back in to the conversation.

"-because your last boss said that you were extremely hard working and took no nonsense and we need more people like you Watson, we need people who do their job well, and for that special achievement you'll be working with one of our best doctors for now until you get used to this place, then we'll see what happens from there, yes?"

"Urgh, yeah," John said quickly, making sure that Michael thought he'd kept up with the conversation.

"So," Michael, yet again continued, swiftly moving towards the door, beckoning John in tow, "you'll be working with Perry for a while, you can call him Perry by the way, he likes it more than Doctor Birtles, he says it sound more informal and makes the patient connect more on a one-to-one basis with him," Michael chuckled idly, as if the Doctor's ways were ridiculous and unprofessional, when John himself had used the technique to make the patients at his last hospital feel more comfortable with what he was doing for them, they moved in corridors and out of doors until they reached a man who was about six foot and had the most wonderful wavy, jaw length hair, it was a caramel-ginger and it had the occasional ringlet, his chocolate eyes and lean body made John ache.

This is ridiculous John thought as he greeted the man in front of him I'm working with a surfer for my first time few weeks or so, how am I going to get anything done with a man who looks like he belongs on a beach in Australia, and should be in red trunks running across a white sandy beach rescuing me from drowning in his big, brown eyes?

John shook himself from the daydream he'd comatose himself into. He'd never felt this strongly between men before, yes, he was gay, but he didn't check out every man who he met, but apparently his brain disagreed today because it was on overdrive, trying to work out what his other parts, covered in a white lab coat and lovely fitting shirt and trousers.

Stop it! He cursed himself, trying to pay attention as he left himself on auto-pilot and bade goodbye to Michael and followed Perry down a ward of men.

"So this is a Mr Jefferson, he is currently undergoing tests for a certain condition we are yet to confirm, we just keep him in bed and make sure he's comfortable with his surroundings, there's not much we can do now, once we get his blood results back we'll have a clearer idea of what's wrong with him," they moved to the next bed, John continued auto-pilot, letting him have until lunch to pull himself together and get on with some work, they moved for a few beds until John was pulled from his trance by a familiar face smirking at him uncontrollably "and this is Mr Holmes, now he's got absolutely nothing wrong with his brain, being able to disseminate my life from how I take my coffee, never did thank you for that Sherlock…" he added sarcastically, to any other patient John would have been shocked by this lack of professionalism but as John looked at the patient he realised it was the man who he'd seen when he'd first came in, he thought he was a doctor but obviously not, he didn't particularly look ill, just like he'd done too many late night shifts.

"Good morning Doctor Birtles," he chimed evenly in a clearly put on cheery tone

Perry narrowed his eyes at Sherlock "Be quiet Holmes," he whispered venomously, John mentally shook himself, this man's nasty side was horrible.

"Tut tut, still not listening to what your councillor is telling you about the anger from your childhood?" Sherlock said back, looking smug.

Perry shook his head, disgraced by the human being in front of him.

"Look, John, I need you to look after Holmes for me, just as a starter, I need to see what you can do before we move you onto the more mentally ill patients, although Mr Holmes here," he spat Sherlock's name with the upmost detest "if giving some of the less able patients a run for their money,"

Sherlock put on a confused face "I'm sure my family aren't paying you to look after me with your kind words of dedication," he drawled "I wonder what they'd do if they found out how you treated me,"

Perry smiled smugly "They're not going to believe you Holmes, because you're in a mental facility and funnily enough, you're in here for a reason," he picked up the chart, still smiling to himself while Sherlock fumed silently, though John could practically hear his blood boiling "Sherlock here is in for a course of mental therapist help, he's tried to kill himself, yet again, he needs his wounds re-bandaged and needs a good surveillance on him for most of the time. Him arms need bandaging because he's got into the habit of cutting himself like a love deprived teenager (sneer from Perry) and he needs his nails cutting to prevent his skin on other parts of his body from breaking, now Doctor Watson, if ever in doubt, check the chart, you probably knew that already, see you at lunch," Perry gave the clip board to John and winked before leaving Sherlock and John by themselves, the mumbling of the rest of the hospital going unheard for them as they both looked at each other, trying to see if they were on the same page.

"Well, ergh, he's a bit of a wanker, eh?" John said light-heartedly, smiling warmly, Sherlock smiled slightly and knew John meant no harm.

"Yes," Sherlock mused for a few seconds "you know he's married, so there's no chance of you asking him to dinner," he finally said

"I'm sorry what?" John said dumbfounded

"Oh don't worry, it's fine, I thought the same on the first time I came here, he was so nice to look at, but like an onion as you unwrap the layers it seems to just reveal something that seems a bit different to what you first thought," Sherlock smiled and patted the bed, offering John a seat "as you're going to be my doctor for the foreseeable future then I'd rather like to disseminate you, so we can get on a little bit better than me and Perry," Sherlock said simply

John nodded dumbly "By disseminate you mean?"

"Deduce," Sherlock said "deduce what kind of person you are, although I have no doubt you're kinder than your new mentor,"

"Okay then, fire away," John said, perching down on the bed.

Sherlock leaned forwards and looked deeply into John's eyes, he could feel the hands from Sherlock's eyes rummaging around in his brain, in his soul, looking at him, searching him for things and making him feel slightly worried about the amount of power Sherlock had over him.

"You're sibling, how old is she?" Sherlock stated "three, four years older than you? Old enough to know he days of setting an example are over. She's an alcoholic. You try to see her as much as you can but now you've moved down here you're letting her go, the years you've spent tending for her are over, you've decided to take this new opportunity to gather better prospects and live a new life. You had a room by yourself at your previous workplace, your mother and father have moved away from you and your sister, they couldn't deal with the "loss" of their daughter and a gay son, their Christian so I can only assume you were brought up in those rules of homosexuality being a sin because you got nervous when I started talking about me myself preferring the same gender,"

John sat there, transfixed "How did you know all of that?"

Sherlock smiled and leant back before beginning:

"I know you're new to here because of the fact that you have part of a map of London sticking out of your back pocket, printed from Google maps so you don't want to ruin you're A to Z because you'll need it in the future because you're living in London now. I know it's recently because there are a few hair strands, much longer than your own but the same shade of blonde, stuck to your jumper on the left shoulder from where you were comforting your sister, there are a few grey/white strands amidst them, then I can assume she's at a later stage of the loss of hair pigmentation, also women tend to grey/whiten later than men. I know she's an alcoholic because your jumper gives a slight smell of it, your breath doesn't however so I can also assume it's hers too, this is all adding to the idea you're new to London, but you've always enjoyed coming here so you decided to start afresh because you needed to get away and start a family with someone, not a woman but just something to make your life worthwhile. I know you had a non-shared accommodation at your last workplace because you seem very confident with people, you have your space but you don't hold onto the edges of your sleeves like most first day-ers do, insinuating you like people on the whole and don't feel threatened by new experiences. Your mother and father moving away was rather difficult until I picked out that you had a small crush on Perry, then it hit me that you lack a parental figure, your confidence shows me that you've taught yourself how to compose yourself but it's different to how most people do, you seem much more easier than most people John, more kinder, and as for the idea that your homosexuality causes aspersions in your mind, well, I've already explained that…"

John sat there, shell shocked and feeling like he was the one needing mental help. This man, this incredible man had just said to him what it's taken 10 years for him to come to terms to.

"Mr Holmes," John started quietly

Sherlock cut in "Sherlock, please," he said kindly.

John started again "Sherlock…when I first saw you outside over an hour ago I thought that you were just a doctor, but now I realised you're ten times what these doctors are worth. Why, in all that sanity inside your mind, did you try to take your own life?"