Chapter 2: Chapter 2
John's eyes flicked open to find he was lying on a pristine white bed in a hospital ward. He moved his head to the side, wincing as his body screamed not to move, and saw the man with an umbrella standing by the door.
'Good Morning, John.' He said with a posh voice and a polite smile. 'I'm glad to see you're awake.' John tried to speak but his mouth was dry and cracked. The soldier tried to sit but as soon as he moved, pain seared from his groin to every other part of his body. In the pain, he remembered exactly why he was in hospital and looked shakily at man in his room, a question in his eyes.
'No. He doesn't know.' John sighed with relief and tried to relax. Mycroft. The doctor wondered why that word had entered his mind, he wasn't even sure it was a word. Then he remembered that the man standing in his room was Mycroft. Sherlock's brother. A twitch of a smile appeared for a second on the government workers face.
'You have been out for nearly four days, Sherlock was let out two days ago but he hasn't left the hospital, he doesn't want to go home without you. He's not been allowed in to see you yet, despite his many attempted break ins. As far as he knows, you suffered some serious internal damage and aren't allowed any visitors.' John nodded, and Mycroft looked concerned, 'I haven't let him find out what happened because you asked me not to. However; he will find out, probably as soon as he see's you, so I will advise you now; tell him.' John was torn. Of course Sherlock would find out, he'd been naïve to think the consulting detective wouldn't. His voice seemed able to cope with talking so he thanked Mycroft who bowed his head slightly and left the room.
The nurses came in as soon as the man closed the door behind him. Each one had the same sympathetic look on their face. John tried his best ignore them as they checked and redressed his various wounds. Once they had finished, a doctor entered the room and handed John his chart, of course they would know he was a doctor himself. The blond read it and handed it back, there was nothing on it he didn't already know about already.
'Does this mean I can be discharged?' The doctor frowned at him,
'I wouldn't recommend it, but yes, we could give you pain killers and send you home if it is what you wish.' John nodded. 'There's a man who's been waiting to see you, he has been since he was discharged himself.' The soldier paled and the other man seemed to understand this perfectly. 'If you like, we can let you leave without telling him.' John thanked him and waited for them to leave the room so that he could change into his clothes.
The soldier stepped out into the cold air, the pain killers they had given him were heavy duty and almost completely ridded him of the pain. He felt bad for leaving Sherlock in the hospital but he couldn't face the man after what happen. What would Sherlock think of him? Damaged. Broken. No good. There are many things John has been able to stand, going to Afghanistan was enough to toughen anyone, but he couldn't bare that. The soldier caught a cab back to Baker Street. Once outside, John remembered he didn't have his key. He knocked and was let in by Mrs Hudson who fussed him until he reached his door. The doctor quickly took a pen and scribbled down a note then left it on Sherlock's sofa. It was low but John couldn't tell the consulting detective to his face, he would never leave if he did. He packed his laptop, his phone and a change of clothes in a small bag and left without saying goodbye to the landlady. Once he was out of sight of the flat, he took out his phone and blocked his soon to be ex flatmates number before calling Harry.
'Hello, Johnny? What is it?'
'Uh, I'm in a bit of a situation. Can I kip at yours til I find myself a place?' The silence on the phone was brimming with questions but none of them were actually asked.
'Ok, I'm at home now. How long will you be?' John sighed with relief,
'I'll be about half an hour.'
'Ok, Johnny, see you then.' The line disconnected.
John had only been to Harry's flat once before, it was a complete tip-John had always been the tidy one in the family. The flat had a spare room which the doctor was given. As soon as he had unpacked his stuff, he switched on his laptop and wrote a letter of resignation then sent it to Sarah. He needed a completely new start. Turning over a new leaf. Once the email had sent, he looked on the job sites and at flats. He hadn't much in his bank accounts so most of the flats were way out of his price range but he found a small one on the edge of London which seemed ok. He made plans to go and see it the next day. There also happened to be a clinic only a block away that was in need of another doctor. John smiled to himself, it seemed as if his clean break would work out ok. He twitched as the pain started to ebb away inside him. The blond doctor stood up slowly and reached for the painkillers in his bag. He walked into the kitchen, wincing slightly, took out a glass then filled it with water. The soldier snapped the tablet in his hand and popped half of it in his mouth, swallowing it down with a gulp of water. The other half was put back in the small box it came in and he allowed a content sigh as the pain subsided again. Harry's head whipped round the corner of the room and she mouthed 'Sherlock' to her brother. John's eyes widened and he silently shook a hand by his neck. Harry nodded then answered.
'Hello, who is this?….Who?….Oh, how's John? He's still not talking to me… He what?…well, that's not like him…No he's not here…Ok, I will.' She turned back to the man in the kitchen when the line disconnected.
'Wow, you must be really pissed off with him for something. Either that or you must be one heartless bastard.' When John didn't answer, she carried on, 'The man is just about having a fit. If I didn't know you, I would have thought he was more than just your flatmate.' John gave her a look and she shut up, as if he needed the extra guilt weighing upon him. He took his glass and went up to the spare room.
The next morning, John took a quick shower then left with his bag. He didn't need to give his sister a little note, she would know that he was gone from the moment she woke up. John stopped at the bank on his way to check out the flat, he wanted to make sure he actually had the money before he got there. When he asked for the balance of his credit card, his heart jumped. He had just under eighty thousand pounds. He quickly withdrew the card and put it back in his wallet. Mycroft. The soldier smiled as he thought of all the help that man had given him but the uplifting mood was short lived as he remembered that Sherlock would probably be able to trace his card. The doctor decided that he would just have to take that chance, Perhaps Sherlock will think I moved out for some other reason and just leave me be. He doubted it.
The flat was perfect, though he had the money for something better but for some reason he didn't feel like he wanted it. The money in his account wasn't actually his after all and he didn't want to use any if he could get away with it. The landlord, a short stubby man who went by the name of Carl Sanders, seemed like a nice sort of chap, he was thoroughly joyed that someone had wanted to rent the room. John paid him then took the couple of minute walk to the clinic. He handed in his CV to the receptionist who looked at it with raised eyebrows.
'I know, I'm over qualified for the job.' John said with a hint of a smile. The man behind the desk smiled back and pressed the button to call for the doctor. The woman in a casual shirt and black trousers looked at the CV briefly and welcomed him to the team without an interview.
'When can you start?'
'Any time, Sue, I don't have any plans.' The woman smiled genuinely,
'Ok, I'll see you tomorrow morning then. Your shift starts at eight.' John thanked her and walked out. Well that was easy.
The sun had already began to set, John really didn't know where the time had gone. His chest started to heave slightly in the walk back due to the quickly returning pain. The river of uncomfort in the back of his mind quickly became a raging torrent of agony. John opened the door and walked up the steps to his new flat, he was too occupied to notice there was someone behind him. A hand rested lightly on the doctor shoulder and he spun round, jumping back with a yell and just stopped himself from punching the landlord. John's eyes widened in shock and he spent the next few minutes apologising. The man laughed and waved away his 'sorrys' and 'are you all rights'.
'It was my fault, I should have known that being a war veteran that you would be more jumpy when it came to people walking up behind you. Don't worry about it, I just wanted to make sure everything was ok.' The soldier nodded and walked into his room. Once he closed the door, the blond slid down the wall and curled up on the floor. Of course there'd be repercussions, John, He told himself, after what happened to you, how can you expect any different? The pain was mind blowing but the doctor couldn't seem to find the strength to get up again. A shrill beep echoed in John's ear and he rooted through his pockets to find his mobile. There were four messages from an unknown number.
John, Where are you? SH
Don't do this to me, John, please come home. SH
Mycroft won't talk to me. I know you've blocked my number so I'm using his assistance's phone. SH
Why? SH
John's eyes closed as blocked out the rest of the world. Each moment brought a new wave of agony, though whether it was from his injuries or his heart he didn't know, and he finally slipped into sleep on the cold floor.
