Tick tick tick

John stared up at the clock on the wall of the waiting room.

I wonder if all our appointments are going to start late, he thought to himself. But as eager as he was to meet Dr. Lecter, John was glad to have a little extra time to himself before the appointment. Switching psychiatrists can be hard. You grow accustomed to them. You spill your life secrets and troubles to them in confidence. Having to start over with someone new was nerve wracking to say the least.

John let out a sigh. Ten minutes late already. Maybe this Dr. Lecter wasn't as good as his previous psychiatrist had led him to believe. He was referred to the doctor when he deiced to move to the states after the incident. He wasn't sure what he would find in America. He was just looking for a new beginning.

A sad smile spread on John's lips.

A new beginning? When he left, I was living a repetitive boring life in London. And here I am living a repetitive boring life in America…

Lost in his thoughts, John hadn't noticed the door to the waiting room open.

"Dr. Watson?"

John looked up at the sound of the thick Lithuanian accent. Holding the door open was a tall very well dressed man.

"I apologize for the wait. It was very rude of me," said the man.

John stood up and extended a hand.

"No apology needed, Dr. Lecter. And you can call me John. I stopped practicing a while ago," he said.

The psychiatrist shook his hand and gave a small nod of understanding.

"Well, John, being new to the area I don't know if you've read the papers then," said the doctor.

"About the Chesapeake Ripper? I thought I saw your name in there somewhere," replied John.

Hannibal led the shorter man into his office.

"I've been busy with the investigation," he said calmly, "thus the lack of punctuality of your appointment today, for which I do deeply apologize."

He gestured to two chairs sitting across from each other.

"Please take a seat and we can begin."

John sat down and looked around the room. It was extravagant and the high class décor was noticeably reflected in the man that sat before him.

"Now, I've read through your paperwork and have acquainted myself with your military history. You've had problems in the past with post-traumatic stress after your service. The nightmares have come back but they aren't military related. Why are you here to see me today John?"

John closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"My best friend…" he said, voice slightly shaky, "Sherlock Holmes…is dead."