Sherlock looked over the top of his laptop at John, who had deposited a cup of tea beside Sherlock's hand and was now shrugging on his coat.

'Where are you going?' Sherlock asked curiously.

'To see a patient.' John replied, zipping his jacket.

'It's seven o'clock.' Sherlock said, just in case his friend was unaware of his obvious mistake.

'I know. She's at St. Bart's.'

'You don't work there.' Sherlock responded, closing his laptop.

'I know.' John pulled his scarf on and stuffed his hands into his pockets. 'But she was admitted last week, and I want to see how she's doing.'

Sherlock nodded. 'What a good doctor you are!' He commented as John gave him a half-smile and left.

John located the room of his patient and knocked gently before pushing the door wide and entering.

'Doctor Watson!' his patient said warmly.

'Hi Amy.' John responded, moving closer to the bed. 'I hope you don't mind me coming to see you, but I wanted to check on how you were doing.'

'Of course I don't mind.' She replied smiling brightly. 'You're probably the only GP in England to still care about his patients.'

John smiled at the flattery and took a seat in the chair beside her bed. 'So, how're you feeling?'

'Not too bad.' Amy said, with an unconvincing smile. 'Although, the room service here is a bit rubbish, and it's full of sick people!' she laughed gently.

John smiled, despite himself, and raised his eyebrows. He could see how ill she was without having to ask. The combination of cancer and chemotherapy had ravished her young body of its natural voluptuousness and had robbed her of her hair. Though her blue eyes were bright, John was a good enough doctor to see that she was masking the pain. 'Really?' he asked.

'Alright.' She conceded. 'I feel tired, and achy.'

'Do you have something for the pain?'

'Yes, but it's not working too well.'

John stood and went to the end of her bed. He hooked her chart off the rail and flicked it open.

'Who's your friend?' She asked suddenly, startling John from his reading.

'W-what?'

'Your friend?' she nodded to the door.

John frowned and turned around. 'Oh for…' He covered the floor between them quickly. 'Sherlock! What the hell are you doing here?'

'I was curious. You never make house calls, or even hospital calls.' Sherlock said simply.

'So? She is still a patient of mine, and you shouldn't be here!'

'I was bored.' Sherlock replied.

John raised his eyes heavenward and let out a frustrated sigh. He turned back to Amy; 'I am so sorry. This is Sherlock Holmes, my flatmate.'

'Pleasure.' Amy said. 'You're not a doctor, then.'

'No.' Sherlock responded.

'Dabble in chemistry, though?'

Sherlock's eyebrows contracted.

'Iodine on your hands, and litmus paper sticking out of your pocket.' Amy commented quietly.

Sherlock smiled.

'Amy,' John said, leaving Sherlock in the doorway, 'I'm going to see if I can get you sorted with some better pain relief. I won't be a moment.'

'OK.' She said. 'Thanks.'

'Come on, Sherlock, you can wait for me out here.' John said as he turned and went to leave.

'He can stay.' Amy said slowly. 'If he wants.'

John looked back at her.

'I haven't had many visitors.' She added by way of explanation.

'Alright.' John said and to Sherlock he raised his eyebrows. Sherlock smiled again and walked further into the room. 'I'll be back in a moment.' John said and left the room.

There was a pause as Sherlock examined the monitors beside Amy's bed with his hand clasped firmly behind his back, as if he daren't let them free lest he start experimenting with curious dials and knobs.

'So do you always follow Doctor Watson around when you get bored?' Amy asked.

Sherlock surveyed her for a moment and then said; 'Sometimes.' He sat in the chair John had vacated.

'Do you get bored often?'

'Sometimes.' Sherlock about the room, taking in the subtle green shade of the paint and the matching curtains at the window. 'You are on chemotherapy.'

'Yes.' She replied, with a small chuckle, running her hand across the smoothness of her head. 'What gave me away?'

Sherlock half-smiled. 'Leukaemia.'

'Yes.'

Sherlock watched her face carefully. 'You've had it before. It came back.'

'Yes.' Amy smiled again.

'You lied to John. You haven't had any visitors, except him.'

Amy's delighted smile continued. 'And now you.'

'Your parents died when you were young, and your aunt, who raised you, died recently.' He watched her carefully. 'You didn't like your aunt.'

'No. I didn't.'

Sherlock liked that she was not confused or angry about his ability to read her like a book. In fact, she seemed thrilled by it, and she smiled serenely at him for while.

'That was brilliant.' She said finally. 'Well done you.'

He smiled warmly at the praise. As he was about to reply, John returned with Amy's chart.

'OK, Amy, all sorted. Your other doctor will be round soon to update your medication.' He said and slipped the chart back in its place.

'Thanks, Doc.' Amy said.

'Come on, Sherlock.' John said. 'We should let you have some sleep.'

Sherlock stood and moved to the door.

'You can come back.' She said to them. 'If you want. If you get bored.' She added.