Sherlock stood up and reached over for his phone on the table. Frowning slightly, he hated going to his brother but this was for John's sake.
"Mycroft, John needs discreet medical attention, now. He's-he's been attacked." Sherlock his voice falter, he couldn't bring himself to directly tell Mycroft. He couldn't say the word. No doubt he would find out anyway.
"I'll send a car."
Sherlock helped John put an arm around his shoulder and limp towards the door. He tried not to notice as he saw John's face twisted in pain. He slowly helped him into the car and couldn't help noticing John shuffle gently across the seat. As the car went, John pressed his lips tightly together trying to cry out every time the car went over a pothole or bump in the road. The car soon pulled up at the building.
Sherlock helped him in and before he knew it he was sitting in a polished clinic waiting while Sherlock was muttering to Mycroft and a Doctor. For the first time in his life, he'd seen Mycroft look shocked. In a few seconds he had quickly recovered and had the same mask of a face on but it had been there. So Mycroft knew then. John closed his eyes swinging his head back waiting for them to come in.
"John Watson?"
"Yes." His voice came out as a croak. He looked around the room and saw the Doctor, Sherlock and Lestrade walk in. Each had the same look of pity on their faces. The Doctor, trying to be professional. Lestrade, trying to be strong. Sherlock, trying to not let John see that his heart was breaking, to see someone so close to him suffering like that.
"Yes."
"You are in full control here. Any time you need me to stop or slow down let me know. Nothing will happen without your consent."
The Doctor carried on, "I'm going to put my hands on top of your head, to feel for any bruising."
Throughout the whole basic medical John kept his eyes focused firmly in front of him. As the Doctor pulled across a privacy screen, she handed John a hospital gown and paper bags. John was a Doctor, although he'd never had to deal with a sexual assault, he knew the general order of things. He didn't need the Doctor to tell him what to do.
Every single noise he made seemed to be amplified in the silent room. His feet padded across the floor as he went behind the screen and slowly began to undress. He tried not to whimper as he maneuvered his lower body to remove his pants and trousers. He tried not to look at the blood stained clothing as he dropped them into the bags. He then slowly pulled on the hospital gown feeling more vulnerable than ever. As he walked back out he noticed the awkward silence. The way Lestrade and Sherlock avoided his gaze.
It was Lestrade's turn to ask the difficult question. He looked down at the checksheet. The questions all seemed so blunt. He felt himself wavering. He asked John to describe what had happened.
John told his story. He tried to keep his voice calm and steady. His vision had blurred, he tried not to blink. To hold the tears in. When he finally finished. He looked over to Sherlock and was astounded to see he was crying. His whole face was still and calm but the tears were rolling down his face. From a man who so rarely showed emotion, real ones anyway, John was touched.
Lestrade then carried on asking the questions.
"Did the attacker ejaculate?"
"Yes, while he was penetrating me." John had known the next question and answered it for him. Whatever made the situation easier for anyone.
"I haven't been sexually active in the last 24 hours but I have in the last month," John carried on.
At least that part was over.
The Doctor explained to him carefully that she would need to comb his pubic hair to search for foreign hairs and take one of his own as a reference. John nodded feeling his cheeks burning as he began to lay down on the examination table, once again behind the screen. He focused on the ceiling above though the procedure. He saw out of the corner of his eye the doctor place the comb in a plastic bag.
She then went to turn the lights out switching on a UV light to search for semen stains between his thighs. He felt the swab gently brushing against him. She carefully explained everything she was doing. She gently asked him to turn around. John couldn't help but groan this time. He imagined how pathetic he must look, how pitiful to the doctor examining him.
"I'm going to need to insert a finger to feel for tissue damage. It will be uncomfortable."
John couldn't stop the strangled sob escaping him. It was too close a reminder of what had happened. He tried to take deep breaths calming himself down. He could feel his whole body burning with shame. They must be able to hear him.
He could hear her writing something down. The sound of pen scratching against the paper.
"I'm going to collect anal smears for evidence now."
John could distantly hear her. He screwed his face up, knowing it wouldn't last long. And it didn't the Doctor was quick and professional.
"There's a bruise on your upper back. Do you want the area to be photographed for evidence?"
John slowly nodded his head. He sat up on the table. He felt her carefully pulling up the gown. He saw a flash against the wall he was facing. Once she had done he hopped down from the examination table.
"There, there. It's all over now."
