A/N- Hello to those who've read this chapter at the end of "Sherlock- not the first Avenger (more of a gate crasher)" can skip this if they want but it might be nice to give it another read? It's my fist angst fic so forgive me if I jump randomly into comedy or anything else :P
BTW- John got a job at the doctors just after the trial, part-time but was offered it full time whenever he was able. (I just needed the setting it's not cannon (forgive me))
The invitation
John Watson sat at his desk chair; he had taken a few days off work after…that. But now he was determined to live and work normally (or try).
John said goodbye to his patient - who looked more worried about him than the tonsillitis he had caught from cheating on his wife with his secretary – and watched as he closed the door.
Maybe three days wasn't enough, his mind was still jerking him back to the sight of Sherlock falling with the tiniest of reminders. He had dealt with the PTSD from Afghanistan by being distracted by his adventures with Sherlock Holmes, now he was the cause of the nightmares. Even in the battle of New York with aliens and gods he had had Sherlock to talk about it with after, rather than going mad inside his own mind.
John sighed quietly and leant his head against his fist. No time now John, pull yourself together and do your job. He pressed the intercom to let reception know he was ready for the next patient and rubbed both hands over his face roughly.
"Doctor Watson?" he vaguely noted the American accent but didn't look up, instead opening up a new patient document in the NHS system on his computer. He hated that moment when his patient sat down across from him, only to recognise him from the papers and either gape at him, apologise or tell him about Sherlock being a fraud, because he had to stay calm and professional (and try really hard not to punch him/her in the face).
"Yes hello." He took a deep breath through his nose and glanced up at the patient.
"Looking rough English." John took a double take before staring at the man before him; he shook his head and couldn't hold back a small smile. He chuckled at the ceiling before looking back at the man with dark hair.
"And what seems to be the problem…" he mock- looked at the computer "…Mr Stark?"
"Too many things to count doctor." Tony laughed before becoming serious "How you doing John?"
"I'm fine Tony; you didn't have to fly all this way just to see me." John scolded.
"Who says I flew here just to see you? I might have business in London?"
"You could," John deliberated "But your hair and clothes are creased by your suit, you wouldn't come in that for a business trip because you'd have more to carry even if it's just a change of clothes. You're not planning to stay for long just popped in to see an old friend."
Tony laughed "Ha, you've not gotten any dimmer since we last met."
"I'll take that as a compliment." John smiled weakly.
"I heard what happened, thought you might want some company, thought I'd invite you over to Avengers tower for a bit?"
"Avengers Tower? You got rid of your name off the side?" John raised his eyebrows.
"Pepper said I was being too big headed, but it is my tower so I think I could have gotten away with it."
John smirked, he had missed Stark and all his humours narcissism, he looked down at his desk. Could he just run off to America? He didn't want to feel like he was running away from his grief, even if it would be a very welcome distraction.
"I don't know Tony, I've got Mrs Hudson to keep an eye on, and I still haven't heard anything from Mycroft. Moriarty might even be around somewhere with a group of snipers for all I know." He sighed loudly, Tony looked like he was going to try and convince him so he continued swiftly, "Ok how about I think about it and you go be a tourist for a bit, fly past the people on the London eye and give them something to look at. I'm off in four hours."
"Square deal." Tony got up and shook John's hand as he also rose.
"Don't start a riot before I get off work, you know what it does to the traffic." John smiled as Tony shut the door behind him, he realised where he had heard that phrase before, and sank back into his chair as his leg gave out.
On the second day of knowing Sherlock, he had accused his brother of being able to start a war within half an hour; John had thought it was ludicrous that one man could have that much power. If anyone could- it would be a Holmes.
Those four hours passed frighteningly quickly, and it was half past five before he knew it. Tony Stark was waiting for him outside the bland surgery in his red and gold suit.
"You're going to get me sacked if you stand around here in that thing."
"Pretty awesome way to get sacked though..." Tony argued, John let a small laugh escape and smiled.
"True."
"So, are you coming?" Stark questioned, "Don't be silly of course you are! I'll send my jet to Heathrow tomorrow at four pm, which should get you there by eight-ish? It's all squared with your boss. Ok, good see you tomorrow morning!" John had his mouth open to reply but got as far as "I…" before dust from the surrounding pavement was sent flying as Stark took off.
"Right… ok. Looks like I'm going to America then!" He said to no one in particular. It then dawned on him that at least five people were staring wide eyed at him, shock, awe and one old man who looked a bit cross!
John was sure he heard him mutter "Bloody tourists" but he couldn't be sure.
(I own nothing unfortunately)
There you are, if you've now read it twice – thanks – if it's the first time then let me know how awful or otherwise it was in that lonely looking review box…
SR x
