An alarm beeped and John Watson reached out and turned it off before opening his eyes. His head was on a soft pillow and there were orange and pink scarves strewn over the back of the chair where his trousers were neatly folded. He turned his head and a brunette rolled over to look at him with her sultry brown eyes. "Good Morning Dr. Watson," she said. He dropped his head back on the pillow and tried to remember how he had got to this place.
The previous morning, John had woken when the ringing of the phone had set up an awkward resonance with the pounding in his head. He reached out and lifted the receiver to his ear as he whispered with a dry mouth, "What is it, Sherlock?"
"Dr Watson. This is the front desk with your wake up call."
"Wake up ...? Ah yes. Thank you." he said before hanging up the phone and rolling onto his back with a moan.
His sister was asleep on the other bed. He had found her downstairs in the hotel bar chatting up a swiss tourist well on the way to getting drunk. He had pulled her away, and got glass of wine poured down the front of his trousers for his troubles. He turned on the desk lamp and winced, covering his eyes as he slowly sat up.
He realized then that the knocking sound that he was hearing was someone at the door. He hesitated for a moment before staggering over to open it. A young dark-haired woman stood there expectantly. His memory tried and failed to supply her name.
"Hello, may I help you?
"Good Morning, Dr Watson, are you ready to go?"
He wiped his eyes and frowned. "Good Morning...uh...where are we going?"
"To the medical school. Don't you remember? You were to give a talk this morning. Then afterwards there's a tour."
"Oh yes, God! I forgot all about that. It was arranged months ago, but then I canceled."
"Yes, we were overjoyed when we heard that you had actually managed to make it. I've come to take you to breakfast."
John sighed, "I'm sorry miss. I honestly forgot all about it. I don't have a talk prepared.."
"If you don't have slides, that's fine."
"No, I mean, I really have nothing to say."
"Then we'll ask questions."
"Look Miss, I'm sorry about all of this but I don't think that I have anything to say that you will want to hear."
"Oh, but Dr Watson, every year we get to choose one lecturer to invite that is our own choice. You were our classes pick. Everyone will be disappointed if you don't at least come to meet them."
John bit his lip. Then he glanced down at his suit and sighed. "Give me ten minutes to get changed first, will you?"
The girl beamed up at him. "Thank You. I'll be waiting in the lobby."
John quietly closed the door.
He looked across at his sister's prone form. She hadn't been drunk last night, but he hadn't meant to let her drink at all once they had returned from the bar. She was currently on the good side of her addiction, when she still realized that she needed limits, but he could see the pendulum swinging and he didn't want to leave her alone. On the other hand, she was right. Who was he to try to control anyone else's life when his own was so messed up?
He walked over to his bag and pulled out a bottle of paracetemol. In the lavatory, he filled a glass with water and took a couple of the pills before placing the bottle on the table next to Harry's head. Then he wrote her a note to tell her where he was going.
He pulled out his jeans, his old shirt, and the new package of pants that he had picked up at the same time that Harry had made him buy the suit. His old socks would just have to do. He hadn't brought another pair. He showered and dressed in less than the time allotted which was frankly a miracle considering his headache, but life in the army, not to mention years of Sherlock's sudden wake-up calls had taught him the skill of dressing quickly.
After coffee and a quick plate of eggs, he was whisked away in a blue mini to the school where he found himself facing a classroom of young medical students who looked at him as if he was something special. Their instructor, Dr Wilson, apologized for not staying for the lecture as he had a meeting that he needed to attend. John was grateful to have even one less witness to the train wreck of a talk that he was sure to give.
The girl stood before the class and introduced him. "And now we have our guest speaker, graduate of King's Medical School, Veteran of the war in Afghanistan, expert in triage medicine, noted blogger and physician, Dr John H. Watson."
The students clapped and smiled, and John found himself a bit touched. He was sure that they would mention Sherlock Holmes first, but the students seemed to be interested in him, not in his his famous partner. They had come because they were interested in his medical experience.
He took a breath and looked at the sea of faces before him. He couldn't remember ever being that young. Actually, when he thought of what he was like in school, craving adventure and excitement, he realized that at their age he had been a lot younger. His career in Medicine certainly wasn't what he had imagined it would be. There was loads more paperwork for one. On the other hand, there were some things that were so much better than he had expected. John tugged up the collar of his coat, and sat on the edge of the desk.
"Look," he said, "I don't really have a speech prepared. Honestly, I didn't expect to come here at all, but now that I am here. I'll tell you a few things that I wish that someone had told me back when I was in school."
He told them then what it had been like to be a doctor in the army. He told them the difference between civilian and military medical centers and they hung on his every word. Later that afternoon, he sat at a crowded cafeteria table surrounded by eager students who forced food on him, and then interrupted him so often that he hardly had time to eat.
"So what did you use if you didn't have access to blood?"
"Oh, we carried plasma with us. We weren't totally without supplies, but they were limited at times."
"And did you really do surgery outside on the ground? Wouldn't the sand have contaminated everything?"
"We constructed a tent around him. Sterilized everything. I suggested, and we adopted, the practice of carrying around a sterilized tent from then on for just such an emergency."
"That's incredible! You just don't hear those kinds of stories around here. About having to use what you have at hand to save a life."
"Oh you shouldn't glorify it. I lost lives too. Too many lives lost in fact."
"Why shouldn't we glorify it? Isn't that why we go into medicine in the first place, to save people's lives To hold a heart literally in our hands? Some day, we'll be out there, and I want to know what it's like. What you've done is marvelous!"
"Where are you working now?" asked a young ginger with cropped hair. "What hospital are you resident in?"
John put down the beer and a serious expression crossed his face. "Well, right now I'm between positions."
The young woman leaned forward and touched his sleeve, "Then why don't you consider working at our school. We need good teachers, and you've certainly got experience."
"Well that would be nice, but I don't quite have the credentials to teach in medical school," John said laughing before taking another sip of tea.
"Why not? Dr Alexander is retiring after the end of this term. There'll be an opening. You should apply."
"Oh yes!" another student chimed in, "We'd love to have you here."
"Well, I don't know about that. I live in London."
"But if you don't have a place now, you could move here. What's holding you back?"
John sat still for a minute. He could imagine Mary and Sherlock's faces as he proposed it. Sherlock would scoff at anyone actually wanting to leave London. Mary would object because of her job, but if he insisted, she would come with him. He shook the thought away. "No, sorry. Even if my background were good enough to get a position here, I don't think it would be the job for me. I'm not the type to teach."
The students made disappointed sounds and offered him another drink. When the students dropped him off at the hotel that afternoon, John was in a good mood, that is until he opened the door and saw Harry lying in front of the telly sipping a bloody mary. It didn't appear to be her first. He took the glass from her hand and poured it down the bathroom sink.
"You bastard!" Harry said."Why did you do that? I wasn't finished yet."
"I'm not going to have you sit in the hotel room all day and drink."
"I see that you're back to your old self-righteous self. That was just a bit of the hair of the dog that bit me. Besides, it was mostly tomato juice. I wasn't the one trying to get drunk, unlike some brother of mine who shall remain nameless. Where were you all this time?
"I left a note. Didn't you read it?"
"I saw something, I put it in the drawer. I thought that you had scarpered off and left me too."
"The students took me out to the school."
"What students?"
" Students from he local medical school. I was their guest speaker."
"That must have been fun. Did you tell them about the joys of married life?"
"Very funny. Actually no, it's not. You were always a mean drunk."
Harry kicked her legs rumpling the bedspread as she glared at him red-faced. "I'm not drunk! And I'm not mean? And who are you to talk anyway? You're the one who dragged me here and tossed out my drink as if you've resolved that neither of us should be having any fun this Christmas. I want to remind you that this is my holiday. I'm simply keeping you company on this misguided trek of yours because I am your sister and I love you despite the fact that you are an insufferable bore and a 'know it all', so don't turn your anger on me."
John sat on the edge of the be and wiped his forehead with his fingertips. "Sorry Harry, but ... Taking care of you drunk would be just one too many things on my plate right now."
"John, I'm not drunk. This is only the second drink that I've had all day!"
"And what have you eaten?"
"Nothing. A biscuit."
"Then we're going out to dinner. There's an Indian restaurant across the street that smelled good."
"Alright, just let me pack up my things."
"It's just across the street. We'll be coming back to the hotel afterwards."
"Best to be prepared. in case we don't. Did you forget that we are on the run, Johnny boy? You really don't have the hang of being a runaway, do you? Come on then. I've watched enough crap telly for one day." Harry climbed out of bed and began putting all of her things into her bag.
The food was very good, and John was full when they left, crossing the street and walking down the pavement toward the hotel entrance.
"John, will you answer a question for me now?"
"What do you want to know?"
"Yeah, well, I've been meaning to ask you How exactly is it hiding to go to a medical conference that your wife knows that you are supposed to be speaking at? Wouldn't the great Sherlock Holmes think to look for you where you here?"
"That's the beauty of it," John said, "It's Sherlock's weakness. He knows that I am running, so he will never, ever guess that I would be exactly where you would expect to find me. He won't even think to look."
"Odd bloke that. So are you ever going to tell me what's up with Sherlock? I thought that he was on death's door."
"He's better," John said. "In fact, he's his old self again."
"What does that mean? Hey, what are you doing?"
John had suddenly stopped and grabbed Harry's arm. He pulled them back into the shadows of the building.
"What are you doing, John?"
"That car!"
"What about it?"
"It's Inspector Lestrade's."
"So, maybe he's on vacation too."
"Don't be daft, Sherlock is here. We did clear everything out of the room didn't we?"
"Yes."
"Good but...Oh damn, my suit!"
"I sent it down to be cleaned. It should still be in the laundry."
"Then maybe..." John walked up to the door where a porter was helping an older lady out of his car. He caught his attention with a folded pound note. "Hello, I'm from Room 307. I'm leaving, but I left my suit at the cleaners. Could you please get it for me?"
"Yes sir, right away." the man said sticking the notes in his pocket. John stepped back behind the pillar trying to hide, but somehow making himself look even more conspicuous. Harry turned away..
"Dr Watson?"
They turned to see a tall dark-haired woman in a purple, leather coat smiling at them.
"Oh Hello!" John said smiling back. "You're the dancer from the bar. Good to see you again, uh..."
"Phoebe. Phoebe Banks." She held out her hand and he took it.
"Yes, of course, Phoebe."
"I was just passing and I saw you standing here. How are you?"
"Here you go sir." The porter said handing John the suit and standing expectantly. He gave him a few more pounds, and the man went away.
Phoebe looked at the suit. "Are you going somewhere? My car is right over there if you need a ride."
"You have a car?" Harry asked.
"When I leave work, the trains aren't always running. Where are you going?"
"Honestly, I don't know." John said. "There's just someone in the hotel that I am trying to avoid. Is there some other hotel you can take us to? He's sure to have found my room by now."
"Someone's after you?"
"Not a criminal. We're not in danger, but yes I was trying to get away for a bit."
"Then you can stay at my place. There's not much space, but I have a soft couch."
"That's me sorted, but what about you, John?" Harry asked.
Phoebe unlocked the door to a small blue car.
"I guess I'll be sleeping on the floor," he said as he climbed into the car. Phoebe fastened her seatbelt and pulled out into traffic zooming away from the hotel.
"Oh, I wouldn't hear of it," she said. "There's no point in making a guest sleep on the floor when my bed has plenty of room for two."
John glanced at Phoebe's shy smile, but Harry burst out laughing. "John," she said, "your life is ridiculous."