Title: Why John hates 3-year-olds
Summary: A side story to my previous one, 'In my world there is only you', the title sums it up quite well.
Warnings: Slash, might be insulting to three-year-olds + perhaps some OOC
Disclaimer: As always, I don't own this and only will in my dreams
Author's Note: Please bear in mind that I have no idea how things work at a hospital, but hopefully it won't be too unrealistic. Tell me what you think? Enjoy!
-Past, at the Hospital-
John had just started his training as a Doctor. It was hard work but in the end it was always worth it. He had wanted to become a Doctor to help people, after all.
"Doctor Watson?" Oh how he loved that title.
"Yes?" he asked the receptionist who had just spoken.
"Would you mind taking over a shift tonight? It's not for long." She looked pleadingly at him.
"Um, sure," he said, flattered that he was trusted to that extent even though he had just recently started.
"It's up at the children's ward though, you usually work with adults so..."
"It's fine," he interrupted "I don't mind, it will be a good experience." He smiled reassuringly at her.
She smiled back, gave him the information he needed and walked away.
At nine p.m. he was up at the children's ward. It was brightly coloured with childish paintings of clowns and birds, and similar things, on the walls. It looked quite different from the department he usually worked at, a bit refreshing really. Laughter and screams could be heard from the different rooms and John smiled a bit at that, it was rather different from the grumpy older people he usually treated.
It turned out to be fairly easy, a bit of sniffling and crying perhaps, but better than the older people who always questioned his diagnosis. There were no serious cases with blood and deep wounds, the most serious one was a broken arm.
As John prepared to leave someone entered the room he was in. It was a teenage girl, around 15, with a rather small boy in her arms. John estimated he was about three years old.
"Can I help you?"
"I'm sorry to disturb you, but little Kyle here seems a bit ill. I'm his babysitter you see and just want to make sure it's not serious, his parents would kill me if I noticed and didn't do anything."
"All right, put him on the examination table then," John said, thinking this wouldn't take long.
Oh how wrong he was. The boy started to fuss the minute he was put on the table, trying to get off it several times.
"Come now, be a good boy. If you are you will get a lollipop," John bribed.
"Yay, lolly. Gimme!" The child demanded.
"I will, after I've examined you."
"NO! Kyle wants it NOW!" The child screeched.
"Kyle, it will only take a minute. Be nice to the Doctor, will you?" The teen tried to comfort.
"NOO!"
"Please Kyle."
"Me don't wanna. Me wants a lolly. NOW!"
"All right, all right," John muttered and took out a lollipop from the drawer next to him. 'Little brat,' he thought to himself.
Kyle took it, licked it and threw it on the floor.
"Me wants a brown one, not green, BROWN!"
"There are no brown lollipops Kyle, not in here anyway."
"Wants it!"
"Well tough luck," John snarled, his patience running thin.
The boy started to bawl, big fat tears running down his cheeks and snot coming from his nose. John panicked, how the hell did you make small children calm down? He ran out of the room to get a nurse, hoping they knew what to do.
In the end the nurse took care of it while John stood miserably in a corner of the room. It turned out it was a fever and some medication was prescribed. The nurse gave John a small sympathetic smile once the girl had left with Kyle and John had soon fled home, feeling highly embarrassed.
-Present, Baker Street-
"...And that's why I dislike three-year-olds," John finished his story, while stroking Sherlock's hair, which was in his lap since Sherlock was lying with his head in John's lap.
Sherlock looked amused:
"Really John, you got scared off because of a whiny little brat? You went to war for heaven's sake, but can't stand little children?"
"I'd like to see you try," John muttered, pouting a bit.
Sherlock laughed, a rich laugh which always succeeded to enchant John.
"Oh no, me and children often ends in a disaster."
John smirked a bit:
"Besides, if I worked with children it would take more time. I'd rather spend that time with you than trying to calm little children everywhere."
"Oh, please do," Sherlock smiled.
Then they kissed.
-The End-
End Note: There you have it. I wrote this so I could show my classmates how to post stories here at Fanfiction(It never happened, but I've made them curious about fanfics anyway, mohaha I'm so proud) Reviews are always appreciated!