John Feels Popular (and no reason why he shouldn't)

*Please note* I posted this chapter and the one before it on the same day, somake sure you don't miss out chapter 6!

It was a quiet day at the surgery, and thank heaven for that. John was sorely in need of some quiet. A series of minor but satisfyingly fiddly cases had sent Sherlock into a whirlwind of activity and neither of them had had a minute to rest for the last five days as a result. He would have turned the day's work down, actually, had it not been for Sarah sounding so stressed on the phone. Of course, there was also the fact that, had he stayed at home and attempted to rest, he would almost certainly have been dragged into one of Sherlock's experiments. And given the state of distracted confusion he'd been in recently, that would pretty much constitute a death sentence.

After a delightful hour of listening to a hypochondriacal patient list imaginary symptoms and show him dog-eared pages in a health magazine, John was starting to think that being Sherlock's guinea pig for the day might actually have been more relaxing. He calmed the man down however, checked him over for various things and, having reassured him, escorted him out of the surgery. Sarah stuck her head out the door of her office and gave him a grateful look.

"You had Mr Mattley? Well done, John. Did he turn up early again?"

"No," John replied. "Why?"

Sarah shrugged. "You must have gotten through his list quick then. I usually schedule him in for about ninety minutes, it's only been fifty since his appointment time though." She gave him a pleased smile, then ducked back into her office as Miranda, the bossy receptionist, turned towards them. John gave Miranda a thin smile and made for the safety of his own office before she could tell him off for anything.

He had a few minutes before his next patient, having dealt with Mattley's records before the man left, so he took his phone out of his briefcase, sat down and checked his messages. There was a text from Molly;

Hi John! Have you seen that film Corner of a Foreign Field yet? I thought it might be your kind of thing. It's on tonight at the Prince Charles if you're interested. I've been wanting to see it for a while. Let me know! :D

John smiled. It was nice of her to think of him. He texted back;

Hi Molly. I have seen it and its realy good. You should go. Are you taknig somebdy on a date?

He sort of hoped she was, it'd be nice to see her going out with somebody decent for a change. Then he shook his head at himself; he always got overprotective of the women he slept with and, really, he had no right to. It's not like a quickie against a wall at times of stress constituted any kind of relationship. Even when it was, admittedly, a very good quickie.

Almost as soon as he'd sent the text, his phone played a few bars of Phantom of the Opera and a text from Sherlock appeared.

John, which of your medical journals was it that showed the scarring on the remaining sector of a liver that had been partially donated?

John could only recall the year that that one had been published in, but Sherlock would find it soon enough with that data. He texted his answer quickly, then glanced at the clock. A new patient was due any moment so, worried that more texts from Sherlock might be forthcoming, he put his phone on silent and slipped it into his shirt pocket. Sure enough, seconds later and almost simultaneously, a knock sounded at the door and his phone vibrated.

The patient was a little girl with her nineteen year old brother. Both had tonsillitis and John diagnosed it quickly, gave them their prescriptions and made the necessary comments about rest and ice cream, at which both sets of eyes lit up. Once they were on their way, he slipped his phone out again and found, to his mild surprise, another text from Molly.

I don't have a date actually. I wonder who I could ask...;-)

John chuckled. Bless her. She had no idea how many pairs of eyes followed her around the hospital, did she.

I thnik you could have your pick Molly. That chap in radiolgoy is keen and a few others though I dont kno there departments.

He knew who she'd like to take out, of course. It had always been a bit hard to see her pining for Sherlock, knowing that he didn't return her feelings, when she was so head over heels. It was good that she was managing to stand up for herself to him though, and rather pleasing on some level to see Sherlock get told off. He was seeing a whole new side to Molly that quite impressed him, and he hoped that the positive change would continue. She was a lovely girl, after all, she deserved to be able to go out and do the things she wanted without her self consciousness tripping her up every way she turned. He wished he could say something reassuring like that to her, see if she'd listen, but he didn't feel he was really close enough to her to pull it off. Though, actually, their little chat via text was quite chummy, wasn't it. Just think; not so long ago she couldn't even remember his name!

His phone vibrated again as he finished up his last two patients' notes, and he pulled it out to see another message from Sherlock.

John, would you expect a two year old surgery scar (kidney removed for donation) to look like this? The patient claims there has been no further trauma to the region since the scar healed.

John opened the attached photo and grimaced. Sounded like Sherlock was working on something nasty. He glanced at the clock; only an hour and a half until he could go and join him.

No thats more recent then two yers. What aer you working on? I'll be back ina couple of hours if you need me.

He got his phone back into his pocket just as his next patient walked in, without knocking. Bloody rude, John thought. While he was looking at the middle-aged woman's frankly revolting feet and arranging an appointment for her with the chiropodist, he felt his phone buzz again. Ooh, and again! Mrs Backshall glared at him, possibly because she had heard it, but equally likely she just felt like glaring. According to some of the other doctors, she'd found nothing but fault with the staff of the surgery since they'd barred her from bringing her bitey dachshund with her to her appointments.

Once she was gone, details of her appointment clutched in her hand like she expected to be mugged for them, John checked his phone again. He was certainly popular today. Molly first;

Do you know any good restaurants John? I really fancy a nice meal out. Anywhere you particularly like? :)

He wondered, as he typed his reply, how she made all those little faces on her phone.

Hvae you tried the Hay Wagon on Buyers Street. Very nice food and its quite so you can have a chat. Sherlock took me their a while ago one of his beetter ideas.

He sent it, then paused before looking at his other message. Maybe he should try and give her a bit of encouragement.

This bloke you're gonig out with is lucky. It's nice off you to plan a date so well.

The second message was from Sherlock;

John, I need to know about emergency appendectomies.

Oh christ, John thought. What now?

Waht exactly do you need to know. Phone me if you need alot of detail.

He thought for a moment before sending it, then felt a little twinge of mischief and added;

I think Molly is datig some body fro the hospital.

Because he needed to make himself more confused over Sherlock by baiting him with a foiled crush. He sighed and sent the message.

Another text buzz, and John found that Molly had sent him another little face. No message, just ':)'. What did that mean? Well, he supposed it was good. It was smiling, after all. She was probably too busy dealing with the preparations for her date to reply properly. Women seemed to have all a whole list of things to do before dates. Shaving things and plucking things and other stuff to do with their hair.

He was about to press the intercom button when his phone started vibrating in little jolts, indicating a call. He located and pressed the answer button, registering Sherlock's name on the screen as he put it up to his ear.

"About the emergency appendectomy," Sherlock said without preamble.

"Yes, what did you actually want to know?"

"I need to know how to perform one, John."

John had to pause for a moment and try, at least try, to come up with some reason for Sherlock wanting to know this other than the obvious. He couldn't do it.

"Sherlock, who are you planning to perform it on? And where are you? And-"

"All these questions aren't helping, John! I need to know!"

John shook his head firmly, even though Sherlock couldn't see it. "Nope, you are telling me where you are and I am calling an ambulance. You can't do that kind of surgery without proper training, Sherlock, it's not like fishing out a splinter."

"But Joooohn!" Sherlock whined.

"No! Location!" John ordered, and Sherlock pettishly revealed that he was in, of all places, the Royal Infirmary. John sighed, and managed to use the office phone to call his contact there, Dr Malik, while successfully giving Sherlock a stern talking to on his mobile.

About two hours later, on his way home, he got a call from Dr Malik saying that the surgery had gone perfectly well and that Sherlock had had his face pressed up against the window of the operating theatre for the duration, like a child staring out of a train carriage.

John burst out laughing, startling everyone else on the bus.

::

A few notes; I made up (or at least I think I did) the film title Corner of a Foreign Field, which is a reference to the poem The Soldier by Rupert Brooke, written during the First World War. The Prince Charles Cinema, just off Leicester Square, played host to Sherlopalooza 2012 (which was awesome!). References to anything else, such as the restaurant, are completely fabricated. The spelling mistakes in John's text messages are deliberate; I used this in The Acronym too, and sort of liked it. It feels fitting that he doesn't try too hard when he's texting, because to him it's not really a way of communicating important things.

Molly's dialogue is based on my first ever attempt at asking a boy out. Sadly, I never got any better at it. :(