Sherlock had never been so thoroughly prodded and poked since he was in high school. The day after John had signed the consent form for the transplant, Sherlock had been co-opted away to undergo a physical exam to assess Sherlock's level of health in order to appease the transplant coordinators. Sherlock was weighed, his height measured, his body fat calculated, his lung capacity tested, his urine output calculated, and what felt like a gallon of blood drawn out through his elbow. He had undergone this process without grudge, knowing that he had to go through this to help Innes, but he did feel like some of the tests performed weren't strictly necessary. His one overshadowing doubt about his availability to donate was the fact he had been a drug user in the past – so the relief was granted when he was informed that, deplorable as drug taking and smoking were, they wouldn't have an adverse effect on the transplant, not in this circumstance anyway. With that issue aside, there was nothing to stop Sherlock from going ahead with the transplant procedure and they were given a preliminary date of the following Tuesday for the date of the operation, as long as nothing went wrong in the meantime.
Having a date set, assured that Innes didn't crash unexpectedly, was reassuring for Sherlock – the knowledge of what was coming, and when, allowed him to organise the process in his head. He had hoped that, given the four days that were intervening between them finding out that Sherlock was a match with Innes, and the day of the arranged transplant, that John might have become more accustomed to the idea of Sherlock donating to Innes. He knew that John didn't like the idea, that John was fundamentally opposed to this, but he had hoped that he might soften to the idea when he realised how imperative it was to Innes. This didn't seem to be the case; John became very withdrawn from Sherlock again – they had had a brief interlude of normality, but it had returned to the awkward silence they had been in for nearly a week whilst Innes was first in hospital, before they had known what was wrong. John didn't seem to want to be anywhere near Sherlock anymore – he avoided looking at him, he didn't speak to him unless absolutely necessary, and he had taken to sleeping in Innes' bed at night… Sherlock wanted to grab hold of John's shoulders and shake him, ask him what the hell he was doing. He should be thankful for what Sherlock had offered to do! If he hadn't offered to do this, and they hadn't been able to find a donor, then Innes would be dying… there was no two ways about this. It made him angry – angry that John didn't seem to appreciate what he was going to go through for the sake of their family. But more than anger, was the overwhelming and overpowering sense of disappointment that Sherlock felt. He had never thought that John would disappoint him, but John was proving him wrong in every action he did at the moment…
So when Tuesday morning dawned Sherlock was unsurprised that when he rolled over in his bed to an empty space beside him. He sighed heavily, the sleep weighing in his eyes – he had wished that John would come and join him last night; he knew that it was going to be at the last time he was going to be at home for at least three days… he would have liked the comfort that John provided. John clearly didn't feel the same.
Sherlock had packed a small overnight bag the day before, he wasn't feeling exactly assured that John would bring anything he needed to the hospital; and he loaded it into the car with some trepidation. They were early in leaving as Sherlock had to present himself for a pre-op check at nine o'clock. John was silent for the entire journey there, his face was a greyish colour and Sherlock could see the signs of extreme nervousness that were evident in John's actions and reactions. John didn't even speak to Sherlock when they arrived at the hospital and he had to leave to find Dr. Connors to notify her of his arrival.
"I'll see you later, I guess…" Sherlock said to John, who was staring at his feet and scuffing the floor with the tops of his shoes. "It'll be alright John, I know it will." John didn't respond and Sherlock couldn't bear the silence and awkwardness between them. He had been all ready to do this four days ago, but he was feeling nervous now – he reckoned that was expected; the twisting, butterfly sensation in the pit of his stomach and the slightly increased heart rate.
Dr. Kaboul was waiting with Dr. Connors, and a third doctor – who was introduced as Dr. Jessop – for Sherlock to arrive. Dr. Jessop was the one who would be removing one of Sherlock's kidneys, and Dr. Kaboul would be transplanting it into Innes. Sherlock's vocal cords had tightened again, so he struggled to respond to their questions – all he managed to do was nod and shake his head. The only question he managed to vocally reply to was:
"Are you sure you are alright to do this?"
"Yes, I am."
A/N: As always, I'd love to know what you think of this chapter/story so far!