"It bothers you, what they say about me." Sherlock observed curiously. "Why?"
"Because I'm your friend, it's my job." John replied.
Sherlock smiled slightly at this news.
"Whatever happened to being a doctor?"
"I can multi-task."
It was true. John had somehow been managing to help Sherlock with his cases at the same time as working at the clinic. There was also shopping duties to take into account because his flatmate never would.
Speaking of shopping – John wandered over to the fridge. His stomach growled as he opened it but it was empty. Except for a rather gruesomely disfigured limb. John abruptly closed the door on one of his friend's more disgusting habits.
"I'm investigating – "
"I don't want to know."
John glanced at his watch. Looked like he didn't have the time for breakfast today. It wouldn't be the first time. On the bright side, at least he didn't need to worry about a diet.
"Pass me a pen." Sherlock commanded.
"There's one right in front of you. I've got to go or I'll be late for work."
"Skipping meals again John?"
"You're one to talk!"
"Digesting is a distraction."
John snorted.
"Goodbye Sherlock."
It was a particularly busy day at the clinic. Sarah had offered to see some of John's patients but he'd politely refused. He still needed to make it up to her for the 6 or 7 people she saw for him when he fell asleep first day on the job. One thing was for sure, today that debt was quickly repaid. By the 20th person John saw he was painfully hungry and just wanted to get the session done and over with.
An old man limped into the room and sat down.
"Hello how can I help you?"
"I've got a problem."
Well obviously, else you wouldn't be here! John thought to himself. His stomach chose this moment to loudly gurgle its unhappiness to the world.
"Sorry, please ignore my stomach."
"My problem is quite severe – " John frowned, that voice sounded so familiar. "I suffer from intense boredom."
"Sherlock? What are you doing here?"
The detective tore off his fake beard and hair, then removed the pillow from under his jacket. It seemed as if a miraculous transformation had taken place. In front of him stood Sherlock Holmes.
"Searching for a cure."
Dealing with Sherlock at home was one thing, but at the clinic?
"Sherlock," John began.
"I have food." said Sherlock holding up a paper bag.
"And I have patients to see." John replied.
He tried to avoid looking at the bag. He could already smell its mouth-watering contents. His stomach rumbled again, betraying his thoughts.
"I am a patient." Sherlock insisted.
"Oh – you – fine. Give it here."
Sherlock smiled triumphantly as he passed John the bag.
"It's a Chinese takeaway." He informed the doctor.
"Great." John replied as he started to wolf the food down.
Sherlock watched his friend in silence. All you could hear was John's munches. It didn't take him long to finish.
"Feeling better?"
"Yes thanks. So what are you really doing here?"
"Testing my latest disguise."
"Is that a new one?" John asked, gesturing at the fake grey wig Sherlock had tossed to the floor.
"Yes."
"Did it work?"
"You're the only person who's recognised me so far and I've seen Mrs Hudson, Sarah and Lestrade today."
"Lestrade? Did you get another case?" John asked.
"Yes but it was far too simple for a mind like mine." Sherlock replied arrogantly.
"Remember what I said about keeping a low profile – "
"Really John it was too mundanely gruesome for any reporter to approach."
"Well that's something!"
John wondered how bored the detective must've been to visit him at work. Sherlock seemed to read his mind.
"Very."
John wished he wouldn't do that.
"Okay, we're done now. Next."
"But I'm still bored." Sherlock whined.
John rolled his eyes.
"Then I'm afraid your disease is terminal."
At this point a young doctor entered the room.
"John what's taking so long? We need – " the man trailed off as he spotted the empty Chinese takeaway bag. His eyes narrowed. "You need to get a move on."
"Sorry Sir." John apologised. Sherlock frowned at the formal address John gave the man, was this stranger his friend's boss? "My patient was just leaving."
Sherlock stood up, turned to face the doctor and surveyed him. 2 kids, a dog and an affair with the receptionist.
"What sort of establishment do you run here, not allowing doctors to have breakfast whilst you date the receptionist?"
"I'm sorry?" the man spluttered.
"I'm considering making a complaint."
Startled by Sherlock's knowledge the man backed out of the room.
"Take all the time you want."
Sherlock smiled and sat down. John stared at him, a smile of his own stretched widely across his face.
"What was that for? Not that I'm not grateful or anything -"
"Because you're my blogger. It's my job to keep an eye on you."