Author's Note:This chapter is a tie in for a ParentLock fic I'm working on as a continuation piece (Yes I know I'm not technically finished with this one, hush.) If ParentLock isn't your thing (I won't judge) You can skim it,skip it,whatever. Though it's more of good-with-kids-John than anything else. I should probably point out that I actually do have a point in this chapter.
As far as work days go, this one had been terrible.
One of the two colds was actually a case of the flu, which had John wearing gloves and a mask in an attempt to lessen his exposure.
However, such measures tend to frighten impressionable 8 year old boys.
The other cold had been a case of hypochondria run rampant.
What was really a simple case of the sniffles had turned into nearly an hour of listing diseases that the woman didn't have, a whole panel of blood work scheduled and a very tired John grumbling for the concussed child to come it.
That was when things became interesting.
It was clear that the child was malnourished, and he bore the marks of abuse.
Bruises and lacerations coated his body, some of them distinctly hand shaped.
He shuffled in with his head down, avoiding physical contact with the woman, and tensing as he entered the room.
The woman who brought the young boy to the door wore the stern expression of a social worker.
The door shut behind the woman, leaving the doctor alone with the shaking child.
John plasteered on a soft expression, not wanting to frighten the child.
"Hey, I'm Doctor Watson. What's your name?"
The kid glanced up, eyes widening in surprise.
"You were with the tall one."
He squeaked, his voice small and quiet.
John's brow furrowed as he sat down in front of the boy.
"Oh? Have we met then?"
The boy nodded.
"You and the tall guy found mummy and put Jonas in jail."
John blinked in surprise.
He remembered that case.
A woman had been reported missing from work, which lead to an investigation.
Her body had turned up a few days later, strangled and naked on the shores of the Thames, Sherlock had been asked to deal with it.
It had been a relatively easy case to solve, but in the process of capturing the murder-the live in boyfriend- Sherlock had noticed that one of the cupboards had been locked.
The detective had tackled the murderer, and John had kicked in the cupboard door.
Inside he had found the curled and broken body of a child.
He had gotten to work, picking the boy up and carrying him to the living room, wrapping him in his own jumper and soothing his tears until an ambulance arrived to take him away.
The doctor had not gotten a good look at the kid,yet here he was, sitting in front of him.
"I remember you."
The kid nodded.
"I never did get your name."
"Hamish."
The doctor smiled.
"That's a great name. A strong name. For a strong kid."
The boy nodded again, a small smile tugging at his lips.
"Go on then, smile. Laugh if you want to."
Hamish did smile then, a full smile that revealed missing teeth and cracked lips.
"There you go. See wasn't so hard then."
The doctor stood up, pulling on a pair of gloves before turning.
He was stopped by the sound of quiet giggling.
"Hamish?"
The boy pointed to his shirt, and John glanced down on it.
The faded blue shirt had grey block letters writing out, "All the good puns argon."
John shook his head, and then squinted at the child once more.
"You get chemistry jokes?"
The boy nodded, swinging his feet lightly.
"Yea, I had a chemistry set once, before Jonas moved in. I still read about it in school."
John glanced back at his chart.
Age:7
Huh.
"It's my friend, the tall one, his shirt. He does chemistry when he isn't being a detective."
The boy looked at him inquisitively, his sharp green eyes directing the doctor.
"You love him, don't ya?"
John blushed, clearing his throat.
"Yes, now, how did you get that?"
The boy waved his hand.
"You're wearing his shirt, you smell like adrenaline, and you blush when I talk about him."
John stood there, mouth open in surprise.
He raised his hand in his usual casual gesture to ask him to wait, to explain.
The boy suddenly paled, and wrapped his arms protectively over his stomach.
"Oh, no. Sorry, so sorry. Please, I'm sorry."
John bent forward putting his hands up in surrender.
"No, no. You're alright. You're ok. It's not a problem. No one is going to hurt you."
The boy raised his head, blinking at the doctor.
"Really?"
John nodded.
"Yea. Sherlock, the tall one, he does that too. Reads people. I'm used to it buddy."
The boy shook his head, relaxing slightly.
"A lot of people don't like it. The kids at school, Jonas. Mrs. Boulder."
"Mrs. Boulder?"
"My worker. I pointed out that her husband loved someone else and she made me sit in the corner forever."
John shook his head.
This was way too weird.
"Well no worries here, mate."
John clapped his hands, standing up and making the kid jump.
"Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to frighten you."
The boy smiled shakily.
"It's fine."
John sighed, holding his hands up once more.
"I'm going to have to touch you to examine your concussion. Is that alright?"
"The boy nodded, tensing up as John carried on his examination.
He kept each touch to the bare minimum, hoping not to frighten the boy.
Once he had finished, he gently patted the boy's shoulder.
"All done. You're healing nicely."
The boy nodded, climbing down from the table.
"Anything else Doctor Watson?"
John shook his head.
"Not really. Just, don't let the bullies get to you, yea? You have a gift, don't give it up."
The boy seemed to examine the doctor carefully, before stepping forward and wrapping his arms around the doctor's legs.
"Oh hey there."
He chuckled, and the boy smiled up at him.
"Thank you sir."
He released the doctor and opened the door, teetering out with a grin on his face.
The social worker looked utterly shocked at the boy's expression.
"What did you say to him? He hasn't shown any emotion in a week."
John shrugged.
"He's a gifted kid. I only informed him of that."
The woman looked at him as though he had just slapped her.
"You mean his horrible habit of dissecting people's private lives?"
John bristled, but nodded.
"Wait a moment."
John pulled a post it note off of the nurse's station, scribbling his number on it and handing it to the worker.
"If he starts getting bad with his whole, deduction thing, call me. My partner has the same gift, I know how to handle it."
The woman blinked rapidly.
"Partner?"
John blushed.
"Yea, we live together. He forgets his pants, I blog about it."
The woman recoiled, the note falling from her hand.
"That kind of partner then."
Her speech was clipped, angry, disgusted.
"You should not be allowed to work with children."
She backed away, savagely grabbing the boys hand and hauling him after her, spitting venom as she walked.
"Honestly don't they screen you guys before they let you work here?"
John stood there, his breath shallow with anger and pain.
How was amazed at how one change in the sex of your partner takes you form the place of "You'd be a great dad," to, "You should not be allowed to work with children."
He glanced up to see Hamish waving at him, the purple post-it clutched tight in his fist.
The boy was smart, he would be alright.
The rest of the the work day was thoroughly uneventful, with the doctor being not only distracted, but physically and emotionally exhausted as well.
It was nearly 7 before John managed to escape for work.