This is in response to a challenge on GW about unlikely people who would whump Sheppard - and when I saw this prompt, I couldn't resist! Speaking of challenges, my thoughts go out to all of you in the path of hurricane Irene - please, keep safe. As this is only a short fic, I didn't trouble either of my two wonderful beta's with it, so please excuse any errors. And to my good friend Sherry57, I'm dedicating this story to you.

Warnings: - None.

Disclaimer: SGA still isn't mine.

HOUSE CALL.

The screen was going fuzzy, and Carson leaned back on the chair and closed his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose, and when he next looked back everything came back into focus. Carson guessed he was either needing spectacles or was overly tired – probably a combination of both. Tomorrow he would make an appointment with Doctor Salezanski for an eye exam, but in the meantime he decided to settle for a wee dram and a good nights rest.

It had been a long day, made even longer with the emergency admission of private Fuller. The poor laddie had wrongly thought the pain in his side was due to indigestion, but by the time he'd opened him up his appendix was close to rupture. Fortunately, he'd managed to remove it in time, and the young man was now tucked up, sleeping off the anaesthetic in recovery.

The report he was working on was overdue, but wasn't so important that it couldn't wait, so Carson pushed back the chair, and stretched out the kinks in his back before making his way out the office. He was almost at the door when a familiar voice spoke through his radio.

"Hi, Carson, it's Sheppard here. Er…any chance you'd be able to make a house call?"

The usually confident commander sounded hesitant, embarrassed even, and Carson looked at his watch. It was nearly twenty-hundred hours, well past the time the Colonel would normally have gone to bed, and he'd passed Ronon with Banks in the mess a little earlier, so it couldn't be a training accident. He wondered what it could be.

"Is it an emergency, Colonel?" Carson asked. He felt a little guilty at not agreeing to come immediately but he was exhausted, and if it was nothing urgent Doctor Biro was perfectly capable of handling it.

"No…not really, nothing that can't wait until tomorrow." John's drawl got a little higher as he continued. "I just wondered if you could send someone by with an icepack, and maybe some Tylenol?" Sheppard coughed, then suddenly his voice hitched, going up at least two octaves, before it trailed away to a low groan.

Now Carson was concerned as well as curious. He quickly went for his bag, putting in the requested ice packs - his early night was going to have to wait. "I'm on my way to your quarters now, Colonel."

"Wait…not my quarters, Carson. I'm at Teyla's."

"Teyla's?" Carson blurted out, unable to conceal his surprise.

John let out a long sigh. "I'm babysitting Torren." He explained with a hint of exasperation. "Teyla and Kanaan are attending a festival on the mainland."

Carson felt the heat rise in his cheeks. It wasn't like him to make assumptions, but he'd always hoped John and Teyla would have 'hooked up' as the American's put it. They had seemed like a perfect match…but then Kanaan arrived on the scene. Still it was good to see they were still close friends, and it was clear John doted on his namesake.

All the way from the infirmary to the accommodation block, Carson wondered what was serious enough to make the normally reticent colonel ask for a house call. It was common knowledge amongst the medical staff Colonel Sheppard would rather walk around with his leg hanging off, rather than seek their help. Well, maybe that scenario was a slight exaggeration, but Carson didn't think it was too far off. For some reason John seemed to think admitting to being hurt, or unwell was tantamount to weakness on his part.

At the door he rang the buzzer, and Carson was just about to use the emergency override when he heard John inviting him to come in. The door opened, and once he grew accustomed to the dim light, his eyes grew wide at the sight in front of him. John Sheppard was lying with his head back against the couch, holding a bloodstained cloth to his brow. His face was as white as Carson's old grannies china, and his legs were stretched out wide apart in front of him. It was clear from his pained expression the man was in agony.

"Bloody hell, son – what happened to you?" Carson came straight to his side, and started taking vitals.

John flinched when he flashed the penlight in his eyes. "Long story…Thanks for coming – do you have that ice?"

Carson stopped, looked at the sheepish expression on his patients face, but without asking questions he pulled out the bag and was about to put it behind Sheppard's head, when John took it off him and put it on his groin instead. Sheppard shivered, but his sigh of relief and the release of tension from his body, told Carson there was quite a bit more to this story.

He stopped what he was doing and sat back. "Would you care to tell me the whole story, colonel?"

John had closed his eyes, but cracked one open again. "I suppose I have to, huh?"

"Aye, laddie, that you do."

"Well…it was an accident." The colour grew on Sheppard's face. "I'd been teaching Torren how to play catch earlier on, and just after I put him to bed he threw a ball at me…"

Carson shook his head in disbelief, raking his eyes down from the large gash on his temple, to the swollen groin. "A child's ball did all this?"

"Uhm…well, it was my own stupid fault. I'd been letting him play with one of Teyla's stress balls – you know the small hard ones you roll in your hand?" John cringed as he tried to get comfortable. "Anyway, he shouted 'catch' and caught me by surprise. I lunged to catch it but I was too slow and the damn thing hit me…there. Anyway I stumbled, fell over the pedal car I'd bought him last Christmas and hit my head on the table. I think I've sprained my ankle as well." He mumbled the last part, almost with reluctance.

In response Carson rolled his eyes, and resumed his checks saying nothing for at least a minute. He examined the head wound and sighed. "I'm sorry, John, but this wound is going to need stitches." He told him, and saw Sheppard's face fall. "I don't think you have a concussion," he continued, "but I need to get you under the scanner to make sure - and to check your ankle isn't broken."

"Great…that's just peachy. Whose going to take care of Torren? Not to mention when this gets out I'm going to be the laughing stock of the whole base." Sheppard moaned, and flinched again as he moved his legs.

If it wasn't for the fact Sheppard was in so much pain, the situation would have been laughable. Except Carson couldn't even crack a smile, at least not yet, as his friend looked completely miserable.

Carson looked at the couch Sheppard was sitting on, and the large easy chair opposite. He instantly made a decision. "When does Teyla get back?"

John's eyes sprang wide open. "Tomorrow afternoon, why?"

"Because, I'm going to patch you up here." At John's surprised look, he explained further. "I'm sure you'll be comfortable enough on the couch, and I'll sleep on the chair to keep an eye on you. First thing in the morning, after a night's treatment, the swelling should have gone down enough so you'll be able to walk…or should I say hobble, there under your own steam. Torren can even come with us while I check you out properly."

"Seriously…you'll do that?" John smiled, then his face clouded over again. "Uhm…just one thing, Carson. What will I say happened to me?"

Carson narrowed his eyes as he caught his friend's worried look. "Well I'm not going to say anything, son – but at the end of the day what you decide to tell folks is up to you…"

The End.

Just a short tale but I hope you liked it - and please review.

BTW, it's came to my attention that some people who reviewed my recent stories didn't get a reply. For that I apologise, but I don't know how that happened. I can honestly say I reply to every review, as I appreciate people taking the time to send me their comments.