The day was long as John treated people with colds, sores, and other various ailments that made him question why he was sitting in the clinic rather than out working cases with Sherlock. The money they made from the private clients was more than enough to pay all of his bills plus have enough left over to put into savings for retirement. He was also positive that Mycroft could help him keep his medical license. It was a tempting thought even if he knew that he would never ask. Forcing himself to concentrate on his work, he helped several more patients before breaking for lunch. He ate in his office away from the other employees not wanting to listen to their small talk about their families and pets. He was unable to avoid those conversations forever as two patients later he had a little old woman walk in. He tried not to stare at the clock as she droned on about her cats and not what brought her in. His mind drifted once more this time to the fact that he had never wanted this. He had signed up for the military in order to escape the abusive home he grew up in but had actually enjoyed being a medical surgeon and having to think on his feet on a regular basis. Given the choice, he would have never left the military. His shoulder throbbed and he jolted back to the present to find that he hadn't missed anything. Interrupting her, he finally was able to provide a diagnosis and send her on her way.
The next few hours went by just as slowly and he rejoiced in the fact that he was only going to be on an on-call basis so he didn't have to return tomorrow. He gathered his things he was almost out the door before he remembered his original reason for coming to the office today. He stopped by Sarah's office to ask about any seminars or conferences that he would be able to attend in the next few weeks. Much to his dismay, the only conference in the next two weeks was a seminar on eating disorders in Dublin on Saturday. John accepted even though he felt that he is all ready familiar with them. He had his first experience when he was a teenager with Harry. She hid the fact that she was throwing up her tea every night by only doing it in the shower. He didn't realize at the time that it was how she kept her thin body but learned it while she was drunk one day many years later. Thinking back the signs were obvious even if he had been too young to see them at the time. From there he knew and had treated people with several eating disorders, referring them to clinics as necessary. He also grouped Sherlock in with them and the fact that he would starve himself for days on end thinking it would help him with solving a case. The thought of Sherlock made John realize that maybe the seminar would be useful after all in helping him figure out how to get Sherlock to take proper care of his transport.
Heading home, he found Sherlock still on the couch. His hands were steepled under his chin giving the impression that he hadn't moved from the spot all day. It was only the evidence of a new experiment on the table that indicated he had left the house. John really didn't want to know what he was doing to the toe in the sealed bag as he put the food in the fridge and turned on the kettle.
"Do you want Chinese, Indian, or Italian for supper tonight?" John asked as he dug into the menu jar. The sound of a distracted hum was his answer. "Chinese it is." He placed an order for their usuals as he toed off his shoes leaving them by the door. The order was placed, and he made tea placing it on the table in front of Sherlock. He moved around the flat in a normal routine, checking the mail and retrieving his laptop from where Sherlock left it before settling into check his messages. When the food arrived he retrieved it, then plated it setting it once more in front of the man. Sherlock once more didn't react or acknowledge John as he remained deep within his mind palace. Used to being ignored, John picked up his book to read as he ate. Once finished he put the food away and cleaned up the kitchen making sure to avoid touching Sherlock's experiment. As the night wore on, the quiet in the flat was almost deafening. John turned on an old bond movie that he had watched many times in order to pass the time. Once the movie was over, he turned the telly off getting to his feet.
"Night," John told Sherlock as he headed up to his room. Settling into bed he felt as though he had just fallen asleep when the stairs going up to his room creaked. A moment later Sherlock entered the room looking confused. John glanced at his bedroom clock to see that he had been asleep for maybe an hour. He yawned as he forced himself to sit up. Sherlock in the meantime hadn't moved as he stared at John. "Did you need something?"
"I wanted to examine your legs tonight," Sherlock informed him.
"Can it wait until morning?" John asked. Sherlock nodded. Rather than leave the room he walked over to the bed climbing onto it. John closed his eyes as Sherlock laid down next to him. Even with his eyes closed, he could feel Sherlock's eyes on him, studying him as he tried to sleep. He opened his eye a crack to see he was right. Sherlock was laying on his side with his head propped on his hand staring at John. John took a deep breath letting it out slowly. It wasn't like he had to work tomorrow and they could both sleep in after he let Sherlock satisfy his curiosity about the scars on his legs. Then again if he gave in now, it would only be reinforcing Sherlock's bad behavior. His mind made up, he closed his eyes managing to drift off to sleep again despite Sherlock.
He woke in the morning to Sherlock sleeping soundly beside him. His face was relaxed in sleep making him look even younger than he was. A few stray curls had fallen into his face and John couldn't resist as he reached a hand gently pushing the dark curls off of the man's forehead. Sherlock's eyes opened and John smiled softly at him.
"Morning," John almost whispered.
"Does that mean I can examine your legs now?" Sherlock wondered his voice rough and soft in the morning. John couldn't help but laugh.
"You can examine my legs now, berk," John told him affectionately. He kicked off the blankets and hooked his fingers into his trousers pushing them down as Sherlock pulled himself into a sitting position. John didn't consider the fact that he woke up semi-hard like normal until he saw Sherlock's eyes grow wide. John looked down to see the outline of his erection clear against his pants.
"I've changed my mind," Sherlock stated as he turned away and started to stand. John grabbed his arm before he could get far.
"The same rules we discussed the other night still apply Sherlock. I am not going to make you do anything you aren't comfortable with," John informed him softly. Sherlock nodded even as he refused to look at John. John took a deep breath. "I'm sorry if my erection startles you."
"It doesn't startle me," Sherlock snapped in response. John tried not to roll his eyes as he continued.
"It is just a normal response to my body waking up. How about I go downstairs, take care of this, and make us both a nice hot cup of tea, and then we can try again. Does that sound all right to you?" John wondered. Sherlock nodded. Despite his claim of not being startled as soon as John let go of his arm, he was up and down the stairs. The sound of his bedroom door closing filled the small flat. John pulled his trousers back up and then true to his word made his way down the stairs. He turned on the kettle before entering their small bathroom. He used the restroom, showered, and by the time he was redressed his morning erection had faded. Upon exiting, however, he found that Sherlock was still locked up in his room. John made them both a cup of tea before making his way to Sherlock's room and knocking on the door.
"Tea's ready and I am going down to buy some bacon butties for breakfast. Do you want one?" John asked.
"Two," a muffled response came through the door.
"I'll be right back," John reassured him. He went down the stairs to the cafe for their breakfast. It was busy with early morning customers on their way to work and by the time he made it back up the stairs, his own tea had gone cold. He was happy to find that Sherlock was sitting at the table with his head bent over the microscope and his own cup of tea half drank beside him. The toe was now in several pieces and all thoughts of getting Sherlock to eat or continuing with letting Sherlock explore his legs were abandoned for now. John settled at the other side of the table as he picked up the newspaper and his own buttie. The newspaper hide his smile as a hand reached across helping themselves to one. At least he was eating, John decided, as he wondered what else the day would bring.