Lessons in Friendship 7 – Needing something

Standard disclaimer: Sherlock, John and all other mentioned characters belong to BBC or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I just borrowed them for fun. I wrote this for my personal delight and improving my English, no copyright infringement intended. No money changed hands and no profit is being made.

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This chapter was beta-ed by atypicalhumanbeing/ 221bhannah. Many thanks to her for her efforts/work. Check out her stories.

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I was asked for a change of perspective. Be assured dear 'guest reviewer' I love to show more than one POV in my stories and there will be at least another six chapters.

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Chapter 5

"Who else?" John wondered if it was a bad idea to use Sherlock's condition like this.

"I had a small operation, but after weeks and weeks it didn't stop hurting."

"Yeah, what then?" John probed when Sherlock fell silent.

"I went back to the doctor, he inspected me and said it was all fine and nothing to find."

"Where did he operate on you?"

"Inside my nose," Sherlock tried to pull up his duvet even higher.

"And I said it was burning in there and sometimes I had a nosebleed and hurt all the time and… I… I…"

"How long did that hurt?"

"A year maybe… and I went to the doctor more than five times."

"Wait… You?… As in 'you alone'?"

"Most of the time."

"How old were you?"

"Eleven."

"Where was your Mum?"

"Away."

John raised his eyebrows once more.

"I'm a smart kid; I can go to the doctor alone!" Sherlock stated in the tone of a slightly offended child, but still half asleep.

"I know… What did the doctor do when you showed up there again and again?"

"He yelled at me and told me there was nothing… an' that I wanted to be a nuisance… and he sprayed something into my nose and it hurt so much I cried… and he told not to be such a girl and shut up… and to think better before getting on his nerves with my lies again."

"What did you do?"

"I went home."

"No, I mean… what happened then?"

"Nothing."

"Well, did it stop hurting later?"

"No, it went on for years, so maybe yes because eventually, after years, it did… but half a year after that, I made Mummy let me see another doctor."

"What happened there?"

"He looked into my nose and didn't want to speak to me… and ordered me to come back with my mother."

"Why did he not want to speak with you?"

"I don't know. But he was a very nice man."

"Did your Mum come?"

"Yes."

"And then?"

"He told us something went wrong with the operation and that the other doctor was trying to hide it… because it was his faulty work… And that my nose had been infected for a long time now because of that and that there was scar tissue… He was a nice doctor… 'nd he gave me medication and it didn't go away but got better."

"Where there more doctors who said you were lying?"

"Yes… they also said I was lying because they didn't believe a kid my age could describe things so precisely… I was not helped," Sherlock whispered.

John pressed his lips together. Sherlock's senses were so accurate and precise, how could a doctor be so dumb and treat a highly intelligent child like that? Well, he didn't doubt Sherlock was constantly misunderstood as a kid, in fact he still was as an adult regularly, at least by people who did not know him. A lot of things fell into place with this; John looked at his friend's closed eyes.

How did Sherlock get into this state? Maybe this was more of a memory, triggered by being sick… he decided he had probed enough and would ask Sherlock more when he was fully awake.

"Sherlock… You can tell me where you hurt. I'll never tell you to suppress your pain and I won't accuse you of lying. I promise I'll listen to you until I fully understand what you're trying to describe… Okay?"

"'kay," Sherlock whispered.

"Does your belly hurt?"

"Yes."

"Is it worse than yesterday?"

"No."

"All right, now we need to find out if you are dehydrated."

He took Sherlock's hand and pulled the skin to test how fast it went back to a flat surface.

"I am."

"What?" this was the last John had expected, "You know that because…?"

"I've been before and know what it feels like and I know the symptoms and…"

"Blimey, then why didn't you do anything about it?"

"Too dizzy."

"What did you drink during the past three days?"

No answer, but John could feel Sherlock relaxing into sleep. His breathing slowed down and deepened. The doctor went into the kitchen and put on the kettle, then poured some ginger ale into a glass and stirred until it stopped sparkling. He returned to Sherlock with the soda, then gently shook his friend's shoulder.

"Sherlock?… Come on. What did you drink during the past three days?"

Sherlock blinked, then frowned when awareness came back.

"John? Uh, glad… I didn't lose you… somewhere."

"Glad you're back with me."

"Back?"

"You were a bit out of it, maybe dehydration. What did you drink during the past three days?"

"All liquids I… consumed?"

"Yes, please."

"Five mugs of tea, one glass of tap water, a small bottle of mineral water."

"Is that all?"

"Eh… no, maybe three coffees."

"Jesus, Sherlock this is not enough at all! No wonder you are dehydrated. We need to get this under control. I'll get some fluids, I'll be back in a minute, don't go to sleep."

John brought back tea. Sherlock allowed him to lift him into a sitting position. He drank half a glass before refusing to continue. He was slightly trembling.

"Will this ever go away?" Sherlock looked disoriented and it made John bite his lips with empathy. The idea that his friend thought it might not was making him a bit uneasy.

"This will go away. I'll get some meds and you'll feel better tomorrow. Sleep a bit now. It'll be better in the morning." The doctor stood up, thinking how to fight the dehydration fast. John briefly rested his hand on Sherlock's shoulder.

The detective closed his eyes and he only needed three minutes until he was asleep.

When his breathing deepened, John left the room.

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A/N:

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