"You're coming to my mother's tomorrow for brunch, right?" John heard Mary ask as he continued to shuffle through the papers on his desk. He had his phone balancing between his shoulder and ear.
"Do I have a choice?" He replied with an exasperated sigh that he couldn't keep away from his voice. He looked out of his office window at the cloudy and humid London sky. He took a couple of seconds to fan his face with the papers in his fingers before continuing with his work.
"No, not really. I accidently told mum you have late afternoon shift tomorrow," she replied to which John groaned loudly. "But I'll make sure we don't have to stay longer."
"Why do we have to visit them every month, anyway? It's not like you are excited either."
"I never said I enjoy the visits. But come on. Just this time. You can spare me some You-Never-Call-Me whinging from mum," Mary mumbled.
"Yeah, alright. I'm just glad we don't have to do this next month."
"I can hardly wait for it, Doctor Watson," John heard Mary say with a little smile that he could hear through the phone.
"I know. Me too," John replied mirroring her smile. He grabbed his distilled water from across the table and gulped a large quantity down. "Were you running?"
"No, I'm sitting at my desk for last two hours. Why?" she asked sounding a little puzzled.
"I'm feeling a little exhausted suddenly."
"Are you alright?" she asked worriedly.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Must be the humidity," John replied while fanning himself with the newspaper on his desk. "Listen, M, I've got to dash. I'll pick you up at seven?"
"Sure, take care."
John ended the call with his fiancée. Fiancée. John still hadn't got used to the term yet. Very few people were fortunate enough to meet their Soulmate. And even more fortunate were those who spent their entire lives with them. John was one of those more fortunate ones. He'd had met Mary through a common friend, Mike Stamford. After a few hours of flirting, dancing and departing by midnight with a sweet kiss had made sure that John was smitten instantly. John couldn't neglect the instinct of meeting his Soulmate. He had nervously called Mary next day asking her out for another date. He didn't let his hopes up even if the instinct was strong. He didn't want to lose another date if the feeling was not returned. His mind was prepared for getting turned down but it never came down to it when Mary accepted the date rather enthusiastically.
The date- and many after that- had gone brilliantly well. And hardly after a month after meeting, they were engaged to be married. It all had happened really fast but neither of them cared as this felt the most natural thing to do. After all that was what Soulmates did.
A sharp knock and unlocking of his office door pulled John out of reverie. A nurse entered with abrupt certainty.
"Doctor Watson, there's an emergency. Doctor Sawyer wants you to handle it," the nurse said in huffing breaths.
"What happened?" John was instantly on his feet and rushing out of the door as the nurse followed him briefing him about the patient.
"Sherlock Holmes. 34 years old. Preliminary analysis says opioidal overdose. BP is lowered. HR, RR down too."
John increased his pace ignoring how exhausted his body was really feeling now. Within a minute he was pushing open the door of an emergency ward.
And something changed.
John saw Sherlock Holmes lying loosely on the bed. Nurses were hovering over him, taking pulse and fighting to keep him alive. His lifeless limbs were dangling from the bed. If the man's head wasn't swaying on pillow in pain, John would have thought he was already dead. The black tangle of hair on the man's head was glued to his scalp with sweat. His body was sweating, his eyes unfocused.
And something about the man was absolutely undeniable.
"Doctor Watson?"
The nurse shook John by his arms and John realised he had been standing two steps inside the ward rooted to his position, and still was. There was heaviness in his chest and he couldn't say why. His throat was constricting making him unable to speak. His skin was breaking out in cold sweat. John could feel his heart sinking as he watched the man groaning almost inaudibly. He wanted to sit down. But he couldn't move a limb. Neither could he take his eyes away from the man. He was unsure of what was happening.
But one thing he was absolutely sure about was he had to save this man. He had to.
John was taking the man's, Sherlock Holmes's, pulse in the next instant. His fingers trembled as they made contact with the pale skin- as if a current was sparking in his finger tips- but he didn't stop. He tried to say some soothing words but failed to make any sound. Every time the man whined in pain John's insides churned. It felt almost as if he felt the pain too. He thought like he was going to be sick but he couldn't bring himself to leave the man's side.
He pressed his palm lightly on the man's pale chest and there was the same electric feeling in his fingers which he tried to ignore. The body under his hand quivered more, as if John's touch was spurring on the pain. At this point John realised it was his own touch that was paining Sherlock Holmes, however twisted that sounded even in his mind. The man had his eyes squeezed shut and lips gripped between his teeth when John lightly touched his wrist again to test the theory. The patient once again flinched, fingernails pressing into his palms as he violently thrashed his head.
"It's okay. You're okay," John spoke in a small voice after breaking the contact with Sherlock. His fingers bore painful sting all the while where they held the wrist.
"Epinephrine," John signaled the nurse never looking away from Sherlock's tightly shut eyes. His heart rate picked up and steadied slightly as epinephrine entered the system. John's own heart was beating faster now, along with the man's making his work much harder. Another nurse began shoving oxygen tubes down Sherlock Holmes's throat as he directed.
"Any sign of seizures?" John inquired while grabbing one of the IVs and took Sherlock's wrist in his hand again. He had to make sure the man didn't dehydrate. As soon as there was skin to skin contact, Sherlock's body recoiled. John understood there was something about him that made Sherlock retrieving away from his touch. And John also sensed that he couldn't help but touch the man. It was physically hurting him. He gave himself a mental shake. This was not the time to feel... whatever it was.
"Mr. Holmes, I need you to open your eyes," John whispered neglecting the man's protests as he slowly injected an IV. It was important to see for any signs of seizures.
"I want you to open your eyes, Mr. Holmes. You're going to be okay. Open your eyes. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm a doctor. We're here to help you," John whispered again.
Abruptly, Sherlock ceased struggling. The nurse who was struggling with the oxygen mask tried to ease it into place but the man batted her hand away. His eyes flew wide open and stared right into the doctor's own. John's fingers halted on the wrist. Pale hue of stormy eyes pierced John's. He stared back, unable to look away and unable to continue doing so under the intense gaze. The man had the most fierce set of eyes John had ever seen before. He looked straight into John's eyes leaving him feeling utterly stripped.
John wasn't sure how long they stared at each other. He cleared his throat and said, "D'you- Do you feel dizzy? Any nausea?"
"No, I haven't had seizures. Not yet," the man growled.
"O-okay," Is the man doctor, John wondered. "Can you look here please?" John produced his index finger between their faces, urging Sherlock to focus at it instead of his eyes.
Sherlock tore his gaze away from John's, looking as if it took him a lot of effort to do so. John noted pin-pointed pupils though he could tell the focus was improving.
"Your BP should be at normal rate in a minute," John thought it was wise to tell the man what he was doing since it looked like he, too, was a doctor and could tell him if he had any allergic reaction to drugs he was going to use. "I'm giving you naloxone now." Sherlock didn't reply and John interpreted it as go ahead.
John added the drug in IV drip. He took Sherlock's wrist between his fingers once more, looking for a pulse. The man again winced at the touch. John noticed his patient's pulse steady and slow. The monitor tracking his heartbeat matched this diagnosis; its once sporadic beeping had become a gentle rhythm.
"Are you in pain?" John asked calmly, in a small voice. The man nodded. "Your pulse is normal. I'm going to give you benzodiazepine that'll help you sleep."
John injected the drug alongside the first. Slowly the man's eyes drooped close. John was unable to look away from the man. Something was definitely different and he couldn't pin point what.
"Doctor?" John almost jumped at the sound. "They want you on the second floor."
Embarrassed, John nodded with a tiny bob to his head. Reluctantly retrieving his fingers away from the man's wrist, he hurried out of the ward rather abruptly.
John approached the table where Sarah was eating her lunch alone. "Long day, was it?"
"Very. I could sleep right here on this steely cold table," Sarah replied, indicating John to sit down. Hospital was in a frenzied rush since yesterday when a bus carrying forty something travelers had collided with one carrying another fifty-odd people.
"Tell me about it. Thought wouldn't get time to have lunch either," John said in a tired voice, stretching and rubbing his injured left shoulder when he sat down.
"Hey, I'm sorry you had to take the overdose patient. I had to rush down to Chris's school. He got his leg fractured," Sarah said, knitting her eyebrows together.
"Is he okay?"
"Yeah. He fell off a swing."
"Shouldn't you be home then?"
"His nanny is with him for now. He'll be fine." Sarah was digging in her pasta with half interest. "How's the patient?"
"Yes, about that," John hesitated for a moment. "I was wondering if you could take over from here?"
"Anything serious?"
"Oh no. It's just… I don't know but it seems like the man's repelled by my touch or something," John said in a small voice, now unsure of his observations.
"Repelled by you touch? Are you serious?" Sarah laughed as she playfully slapped John's arm.
"Yeah, he wouldn't let me touch his wrist, yet he was fine when the nurse did it."
"He was under influence, John. He wouldn't have been very attentive to his surroundings."
"It didn't seem like it," John said. He remembered when Sherlock had told him he hadn't had any seizures. "He kept retrieving away from me for some reason. And I don't even know the guy."
"You're reading too much into it, John. And I would take his case but I've got a four hour long surgery in an hour. Sorry," Sarah replied.
"You're right. I'm thinking too much of it," John said finally. "Will Chris be okay? Mary and I can look after him for tonight, if you want. Mary's very fond of him. He'll be fine with her." John offered. Mary and Chris had bonded exceptionally well over the barbeque party they had in the backyard a week ago. He was sure Mary would love to have Chris over for the night.
"He's very fond of her, indeed. Wouldn't stop blabbering about her magic skills all night," Sarah smiled at John. "Are you sure about watching him? He can be handful sometimes."
"Yes, I'm sure. We don't have anything planned for tonight," John said mirroring her smile.
"Thank you so much, John," She grasped his hand and gave it a squeeze.
"Don't worry about it. It's going to gain me points in favour from Mary," John added with a wink. Sarah giggled.
"So how's the wedding planning going?" Sarah asked conversationally.
"Very good. I'm doing a fantastic job of what's asked of me."
"And what's asked of you?"
"Staying out of the planning and showing up on time," John said in all seriousness before laughing along with Sarah.
John had visited all his patients by evening, leaving Sherlock as his last. He was still not sure if he could handle another meeting with the man, whether he was conscious or not. Doctors made challenging patients but something about this man was different. John couldn't pin point what.
At last he entered the private room of Sherlock Holmes when he had all his other patients checked and no other excuse left. The pale man was sitting on the bed looking at the ceiling with the utmost expression of concentration. His fingers sat under his chin in a praying position. John wondered if he should give him some privacy, but Sherlock's pale eyes locked with his for a brief moment before returning to nowhere.
"Ah, Mr. Holmes. You look better," John said as he advanced into the room. He didn't look up from diagnosis pad in his hand when Mr. Holmes turned to look at him but he could feel the gaze penetrating.
John lightly placed the pad on the bed. He knew he was acting stupid. He was a doctor for God's sake. He shouldn't be awkward around his patients as if he were some smitten teenage girl; and he was not smitten.
Steeling himself he looked up and gave a warm smile that he knew usually had a calming effect on patients, yet apparently not on Sherlock Holmes. He looked straight into John's eyes leaving him feeling exposed. As if the man could see right at his soul and know every little secret and lies and private moments he left deep buried.
John cleared his throat and indicated to the patient's wrist as he asked, "May I take your pulse?"
"There's no need to take my pulse. Monitor to your right is indicating everything you need to know," the man spoke in a low baritone. John wondered if his voice normally was so deep or the drugs were having that effect.
"Thank you, but I prefer to do it manually, if you don't mind," John replied keeping his voice distant.
"I do mind. The machine would be spot on," the man spoke with disinterest.
"I'm sorry but do you have a problem with me?" John spoke in a clipped voice. He bit at insides of his cheeks to keep from shouting. The man was infuriating.
"I've sent my brother to assign me to another doctor. You are under no obligation to look after me. I will do fine until my doctor comes."
John glared at the man for some time before stating, "That wasn't an answer to my question."
There was a sharp knock on the door before it swung open allowing a tall, posh-dressed man inside.
"Doctor Watson, I presume," he said and held out his hand to John. John took it. "Mycroft Holmes. Sherlock's brother."
"Nice to meet you," John said just because he had to follow niceties with patients and relatives to maintain reputation. The man smiled; it seemed so forged that John wondered why he even bothered. The man, Mycroft Holmes, turned to Sherlock.
"I'm afraid there are no doctors available at the moment, dear brother, due to the dreadful bus accident. Doctor Watson will take good care of you. Won't you, doctor?"
"It's not a one way road," John replied, glancing at Sherlock.
"Move me to another hospital, Mycroft." Sherlock spoke through his teeth.
"I don't serve you, brother," Mycroft said with a smirk.
"Mycroft." There was something in Sherlock's voice that had Mycroft fidgeting on his feet before replying.
"No, Sherlock. I wasn't the one whose reckless and obtuse behaviour got you here."
"Excuse me," John said gritting his teeth together. "Is there something wrong here?"
Sherlock's eyes flicked where John stood and then rested on his finger which now adorned a soul-ring on it.
"You do understand what is going on here, don't you, doctor? Or are you choosing to ignore it because you are engaged?" Sherlock spoke as he again fixed his eyes on John.
"What are you talking about? And what does my engagement have to do with any of this? How do you-"
"So you don't know then."
"I don't know what?"
There was silence in the room for one long minute. Finally Mycroft Holmes spoke, "Doctor Watson, you don't have to listen to my brother's rambling ons. Do you wish to continue looking after him?"
"As I said earlier, it's not a one way road. I do intend to have some participation on my patient's behalf," John replied.
"My brother can be a little... difficult to work with. And in your case it is going to be more challenging than expected. But he will be co-operative from now on, won't you, brother?" Sherlock snorted at that.
"Why is working with me more difficult than working with any other doctor?" John asked, trying to keep his frustration subdued.
"I'd leave it to you figure it out," Mycroft Holmes said, flashing another brightly false smile. Before John could ask more, he continued, "Doctor Watson, let's not make it difficult than it already is. I hope you'll find a way through this. Goodbye. Take care, brother."
And with that the posh man exited, leaving a very confused and angered doctor behind.
"You were an army doctor," Sherlock said abruptly. Not a question, just a statement. John sighed and turned to his patient.
"And how do you know that?" He walked straight to the monitor and started taking readings while avoiding looking at Sherlock all along.
"You aren't checking my pulse manually," he said not bothering to answer the question.
"Very good observation."
"Do you not want me to be okay soon?"
"You sure do ask a lot of questions." John took readings and went to Sherlock's bed to refill his IV.
"Of course, I do. That's part of what I do."
"So you're a doctor too, then?" And with a whisper John added, "No wonder you're so difficult."
The man laughed and something inside John jolted at the sound. "No, I'm not a doctor. My mind needs stimulation and when it doesn't get it, I become arduous to work with."
"So you don't have anything to stimulate your mind right now?" So you'll shut up, John chose not to say.
"I do."
Sherlock's altered tone made John look at him, only this time he held his gaze. There was something between them. Something which John couldn't understand and had never experienced before. But he knew what Sherlock meant, how he felt almost as if it was written on his face.
"I have these codes to solve." Sherlock's voice broke train of John's thoughts. Sherlock wriggled some official looking papers in his hand but eyes remained fixed on John.
"Oh that- yes, of course," John stammered. He felt stone cold guilt at where his thoughts had taken him. John quickly changed the subject by asking for a blood sample that the hospital already had. Sherlock stretched his arm in front of John. John hesitated but took it eventually.
As soon as there was skin-to-skin contact, electricity ran through John and he shivered involuntarily. Sherlock closed his eyes looking broken but fixed simultaneously. John couldn't bring him to look anywhere but the pale face in front of him. Smooth and pale like fine, bone white porcelain. He had a moment of crazy instinct to touch his face, the high cheekbones and perfectly shaped lips. John shook his head. This was getting out of hand. He had to make it stop. Very quickly he found pulse all the while avoiding the gaze that burned on him. Inserting the needle he drew blood.
"Right. That should do it," John said. He hooked the pad at the end of the bed and hurried away from the man's immediate side. Finally he gathered some courage and looked at his patient. "Erm- everything's in check. You can call the nurse if you need anything, Mr. Holmes."
"Sherlock," he replied. "My name's Sherlock."
"Right. I'll see you tomorrow… Sherlock."
Sherlock nodded and John bolted from the room.
John picked up Mary from her clinic before going to Sarah's house. Sarah had informed the nanny already that John would be coming to collect Chris.
Chris was four years old. His hair was just like his mother's but his eyes clearly came from Matt; Sarah's ex-husband. Matt had left Sarah for another woman three years after they had tied knot. John had always been very protective of Chris since then, knowing very well what it was like growing up without a father. Nevertheless, he was a very bright and chatty kid which John was very thankful for as he kept Mary busy on the way to John's house.
"-and then I-I-I flew so high in the air. I saw birds on the tree!" Chris exclaimed. He was buckled up on backseat with Mary on his side. The kid had insisted to sit with her.
"Oh did you? Did you say hi to the birds?" Mary asked. Her eyes were big and she looked genuinely interested in whatever story Chris was making up of his great fall from the swing that day.
"I did! I did! The little bird waved at me!"
"That's cool, Chris. Would you take me to the park next time? I'd like to say hi to that little birdie too."
"Of course! They'll like you. I'll tell 'em, you-you are my favourite aunt. Uncle John, will you come with us?" Chris asked, jumping up and down in excitement in his seat. Mary grinned at John. She kept a hand on Chris's injured leg to keep it less disturbed.
"Of course, Chris. I'd love to go to the park with you. But some time later, okay? You need to rest for some more days," John replied. He looked at Chris from rearview mirror and saw his evident pout.
"No! I wanna go now!"
"Not now, buddy. We'll go home and play videogames instead, alright?"
"But that little bird will fly away, uncle!"
John laughed. "No, it won't. And if it does, we'll find him again."
"No! I wanna go," Chris was on the verge of crying when Mary interrupted.
"Hey. I didn't tell you we have a surprise for you at home, Chris."
"Surprise?" The boy's eyes lit up.
"Yes. A very very tasty surprise."
"What what what!" Chris clapped and shrieked in excitement.
"Chocolate cookies! Just the way you like them. You'll help me to make it, won't you, Chris?" Mary asked with a gentle pout on her face.
"Alright. B-but you'll take me to the park next time?"
"Pinky promise." She vowed solemnly. Mary's little finger looped with Chris's pinky. Sight of the two warmed John's heart making him forget about his worries for now.
"Are you okay, honey? You seem a little distracted," Mary asked. Her deft fingers combed through John's ash blonde hair as they lay side by side on the bed. Chris was tucked in bed in the next room after planning how they would find the birdie again. Mary read him nighttime story while John sat in the living room flicking absently through channel, thinking about Sherlock and their weird encounter.
"Nothing. Hard day at work," John said closing his eyes, relishing touch of Mary's fingers on his scalp. Mary hummed and continued to massage his forehead lightly.
"Actually there is something," John spoke after some time.
"Oh?" Mary rested her head on her palm, inching closer to look up at her fiancé.
"There's this man, Sherlock Holmes. He came into hospital today with an OD. Sarah was busy with Chris so I went to check up on him," John hesitated. "It seemed like he was very reluctant to let me touch him, but was okay with nurse doing it. Seemed a tad bit odd."
"Do you know the guy?" asked Mary, eyebrows arching up.
"No, never heard of him. I've never even seen him at the hospital before," John said and waited, not sure if he should continue. "Then there was his brother, Mycroft. It seemed like they knew something about me, something very private. It was... spooky."
Mary laughed and rested her chin on John's chest. She looked up at him. "What made you think that? That they knew something about you?"
"Sherlock knew I was an army doctor. And both of them looked very oddly at me." John felt more puzzled explaining it.
"Maybe, that Sherlock guy has a crush on you?" Mary winked and moved to lie on top of him with their lips barely apart. John could feel her gentle breath running along his face. She continued to giggle.
"Mary, I'm serious."
"I'm serious too. You don't know how sexy people find men in uniform," she said, placing an open-mouthed kiss on John's jaw.
"He knew I was getting married."
"Even sexier."
"Mary."
"John." John didn't reciprocate or lean into the kisses. Mary stopped.
"John, you are over thinking this. We meet all sorts of people everyday. Maybe the guy's just playing with you. You are thinking too much and neglecting me a privilege to bring you to orgasm."
John laughed. He tightened his arms around her.
"Chris's next door." John kissed her cheek with a moist sound.
"I'll keep it low, Mister," Mary said and kissed John's cheek and making an even more filthy noise. John laughed and let his hands toy with his lover's shirt.
"I love you, Mary."
"I love you too, John."
I started writing this story in December'13 which was before S3 was aired. You might find Mary out of character but I hope it's not a total turn off.
Secondly this story is extensively beta'd by the amazing beta the universe could have arranged for me,FACELESSWRITER11 . If you find any mistakes they're entirely mine.
Lastly, This story is complete and will be updated every week on Saturday. If you do- or don't- like this story please let me know in the comments. You can also contact me here on my Facebook page, Hamish. John Haish Watson, in case you're looking for baby names. My admin name is John's Jumper.
That's all. I'll be shutting up now.