"You really didn't know about me?" Livvy asked as she accompanied John and Mycroft to John's clinic.
"I had no idea," John answered. "Of course, Sherlock didn't think to tell me that he had a brother at first. Why should he mention a niece?"
Livvy nodded. "Uncle Lock has his moments. Well, I am glad we met now. Or I might not have been invited to the wedding."
"Speaking of, Olivia," Mycroft interrupted. "Your grandmother wants you to attend the planning dinner. As does your uncle."
"He wants to see me?" Livvy asked, then frowned, "When? I've got movie night with Kate this weekend. Will is out of town again, and she managed to get a screener of that new spy picture. She wants me to point out how badly they've gotten it wrong."
"Don't give away all of our secrets, my dear. And Thursday next."
Livvy laughed, "Oh, is that why Greg wanted me to babysit? "
Mycroft's eyebrows rose. "He has the children next week? I thought he had them the week after."
"He only just asked me this morning. His ex asked him to switch weeks, he said. She had a death in the family, and doesn't want to take the kids to the funeral," Livvy answered. "If Uncle Lock wants to see me, then I should I tell him no.
"You should. We'll make other arrangements for Lucy and David's care that night."
"You get to tell Greg," Livvy said with a grin. "I'll call Grandmother and tell her I'll be there."
"Greg is coming with you, then?" John asked, smiling. "Good." He managed to wrap as much meaning as he could into that one word, and he knew that Mycroft heard everything he meant. The taller man glared at him, then murmured, "Don't matchmake, Doctor."
"I wasn't aware that I needed to," John answered blithely. Livvy giggled.
"You'll fit right in. Should I start calling you Uncle John now, or do I have to wait?" Before John could answer, she stopped and touched the headset in her right ear. "Oh, I have to get back to the web. Are you free for dinner, Papa?"
"Perhaps," Mycroft answered. "Check again after lunch."
"I'll do that." Livvy smiled and kissed Mycroft's cheek, then hurried back the way they had come. It was then that John noticed that she had a slight limp. Before he could ask, Mycroft touched his sleeve and gestured towards a closed door. John nodded and followed him into what proved to be a very nice office.
"This is yours," Mycroft said. "You can change the decor however you wish. You'll read about it in the medical files, but Olivia is sensitive about her leg. She dislikes talking about it, or having it discussed."
John nodded. "I understand that. Feel the same why. What happened, might I ask? And... why is it so ground-shaking that Sherlock wants to see her?"
"The two are actually connected," Mycroft answered, folding his arms over his chest. "Olivia used to be a dancer. She was very good. Good enough that we were hoping she would take after her mother's side of the family with regards to height. When she was fourteen, Sherlock was driving her to a class. There was an accident -"
"And he blames himself," John finished. "I didn't know he could drive. Was it his fault?"
"No," Mycroft answered. "The driver of the lorry was drunk. But Sherlock felt that he should have been able to do something more. Nevermind the fact that he'd been driving only a few months at that point."
John winced. "They were lucky they weren't both killed."
"Quite. Afterward, when Sherlock had his... difficulties, Olivia found it difficult to be around him, so she withdrew. That hurt the both of them terribly - Sherlock always did dote on her. I've never before seen him so... patient. With anyone. He taught her to play the violin. When he thought she was blaming him..."
John sighed. "I understand. All right. This is the office. Where's the clinic?" John looked around, finding a door on the left hand wall. "In there?"
Mycroft smiled. "Go ahead, Doctor."
"Tell me, Mycroft, what is so special about scanners from Cardiff?" John asked as he opened the door. He stopped, staring, and heard Mycroft laugh.
"That, my dear doctor, is what is so special about scanners from Cardiff. Tobias will show you how to use them."
"It looks..." John stopped, then turned and looked at Mycroft. "This looks like something out of Star Trek."
"You're very close," Mycroft said cryptically, then turned as the office door opened. "Ah, here is Mister Hunter now. He'll show you how to use the scanners, and I will be your first patient."
#
The scanners provided a far more thorough examination than John would ever have been able to do with the tools he knew. Once Tobias explained how the machines worked, and showed John the procedure, John attempted a scan; Mycroft didn't even need to take off his jacket, standing on a small platform and letting John run a wand up and down over him. The wand never actually touched Mycroft, but the nearby computer lit up with information. John set the wand aside and moved over to where he could look at the screen, reading through everything.
"Tobe, how do I print this out?" he asked over his shoulder.
Tobe came over and peered over John's shoulder. "You can print it from here, or you can send it to the display in your desk by doing this. And tapping there dumps the information to the main file."
"All right. I think I have the hang of this. Mycroft, if you'll join me, we'll go over these results. Tobe, stay here. I'll see you next."
"Right," Tobe said cheerfully. He sat down in a chair in one corner and pulled a tattered paperback out of his pocket. John shook his head and went into his office, hearing Mycroft behind him.
"Are you going to complain about my weight, too?" Mycroft asked, sounding sour as he sat down in front of the desk.
"No," John answered, sitting down and looking at the screen embedded in the tabletop. "Your weight is well inside the healthy range for your age and height. I am concerned about your diet, though. Your triglycerides are higher than I'd like, as is your blood pressure. Now, the blood pressure might be due to work stress, and your cholesterol levels aren't out of the ordinary, but we will keep an eye on that. Your blood sugar is high, as well. We'll have to run a fasting test for better results, I think. Does diabetes run in your family?"
Mycroft looked thoughtful, then shook his head. "One grandparent out of four. Not a very high statistical sample."
"We'll keep an eye on it," John repeated. "How often do you exercise?"
"Not often, I'm afraid," Mycroft answered.
"I want you to start," John said firmly. "Half an hour a day, three days a week. Not necessarily all at the same time. If you can fit ten minutes in three times a day, that will do. I'll have Anthea put it into your schedule."
"Oh, come now, Doctor, is that necessary?"
John simply looked at Mycroft, the look that usually stopped Sherlock in mid-rant. "If you are serious about me acting as staff physician, then I am serious about you actually following my directions. Consider me your family doctor," he said with a smile. "You said there was a gymnasium here; I want you to use it. I'll even work out with you."
Mycroft scowled, reminding John of a child who had been told he needed to take his medicine. Then he huffed and nodded. "Very well. Is there anything else?"
"I want you to keep a food diary for the next week. Anything you eat or drink. And nothing by mouth after ten o'clock tonight. Come here first thing tomorrow morning and we'll run that blood test. Then I'll take you to breakfast."
There was a long suffering sigh from Mycroft, and John couldn't resist adding, "You asked for this, Mycroft."
"I did," Mycroft agreed. "Thank you, Doctor. I'll tell Anthea about the changes to my schedule. Let me not keep your next patient waiting."
#
Tobias was next, jumping up onto the platform eagerly. John repeated his actions with the scanner wand, a little more sure of himself this time, then went over to the screen. What he read there made him look up sharply.
"You're HIV positive?"
Tobe nodded and stepped down from the platform. "Yeah. Got a whole list of medication and shyte I need to take. Himself is good about it, you know. Doesn't treat me like I got the plague. I just don't get to go out in active duty."
"I can understand that. May I ask...?"
"I was a rent boy," Tobe answered before John finished the question. "Lived on the streets. It was your mister that got me out, saved my neck. Saved my life, really."
"Really?" John turned and leaned back against the panel. "He hasn't mentioned it."
"He wouldn't, would he?" Tobe grinned and ran his fingers through his hair. "Nah, he used to have a bunch of us run errands for him, you know? Run and find, see and hear, be his eyes and ears. Called us his Irregulars, right? Took care of us, when he could. When he wasn't wasted himself. Back in the bad days. Anyhow, he saw I was good with fixing things, took me to Himself and he said, 'This one thinks. He needs to be off the streets.' So Himself brought me on. Cleaned me up, sent me to school. Been four years now. Got my 'A' levels, gonna go to Uni next fall. Gonna make something of myself."
John smiled, nodding. "Good for you. Come and sit, we'll go over these results."
Back at the desk, John and Tobe sat down and discussed medication, alternative treatments and coping strategies, health, diet and exercise.
"What exactly is free-running?" John asked.
"Ah..." Tobe hummed for a moment, then sighed. "Better if I show you. Come on."
Mystified, John followed Tobe out of the office and back towards the Hub, passing through the space and going down another corridor. At the end, John found himself in the gymnasium. One wall had been set up as a rock-climbing wall, and an entire corner looked like one of Sherlock's favorite back alleys.
"Right. Watch me," Tobe said with a grin. Then he took off running, and vaulted over a railing into the mock-alley. What followed was a display of acrobatics and athletics the likes of which John had never seen before, and when Tobe returned, panting and grinning like a loon, John said as much.
"You should see Livvy. She won't let the bum leg stop her. She's really good."
"Thanks," Livvy said, coming up to them. "Doctor, it's my turn. You ready for me?"
"Of course," John answered, nodding. He turned back to Tobe and shook the younger man's hand. "Thanks for the demonstration, Tobe. You seem to have a good grasp of what you need to be doing, so keep on with it. And if you have any questions, come to me."
"Right. Thanks, Doc." Tobe grinned and ran back into the mock alley. John shook his head, amused, and turned back down the hall.
"You do that?" he asked Livvy as they walked.
"It's good for me. If I don't stretch the muscles out, they get tight," Livvy answered. "Tobe pushed me into it."
"Good for him," John said. "Do you want to wait until we're private to talk?"
"No, everyone here knows. I assume my father told you?"
"About the accident? Yes. I assume you have a regular physician and physical therapist?"
She nodded. "Yes. And I get all the training, but not active duty."
"What is it that you do here?" John asked, holding the door open for her as they entered his office.
"Software," Livvy answered. "Well... and other things. I'm the Spider."
John just looked at her. "I'm sorry?"
"Oh. No one's told you the terminology here. I'll show you when we're done." She preceeded him into the examination room, stepping up onto the platform and waiting patiently while John ran through the examination. Livvy proved to be in excellent health, and their discussion afterward the examination turned to Sherlock.
"How is he?" she asked. "I keep wanting to go to the new flat, but... I was afraid he wouldn't see me. And after what happened..."
"He's doing well. Much better than we had any hope of expecting, really," John answered. "There's no lasting neurological damage."
"Good. I spent a lot of time watching the monitors, those first two weeks he was home."
"You watched us?" John asked, suddenly alarmed. His thoughts must have showed on his face, because Livvy blushed.
"Not like that!" she protested, laughing. "Come with me. I'll show you the Web."
Back to the Hub, then down another corridor. They stopped outside a heavy metal doorway, and Livvy tapped a code onto a panel, her fingers a blur. The doors slid open, and she led John inside, into a room that seemed to be floor to ceiling computers and screens. Napoleon looked up as they entered.
"All quiet, my dear," he said. "And this old man is tired. I'm going for coffee. Your usual?"
"Thank you, Uncle. Yes. Uncle John, would you like anything?"
John had been staring at the equipment, and jumped slightly at the sound of his name. "Nothing for me, thank you," he answered quickly.
"I'll be back," Napoleon said. He left, and the door slid closed behind him.
"There is someone here at all times. Me, Uncle Napoleon, Anthea... someone. This is the Web. Everything runs through here." Livvy sat down in the chair vacated by Napoleon and ran her hand over one of the control panels. Screens in front of her lit up, showing a multitude of smaller screens, each of them showing something different.
"This... are these the CCTV feeds?"
"Yes," Livvy answered.
"I thought those fed into the Met?" John moved closer, fascinated. "You can see all of these?"
"It takes some getting used to," Livvy answered. "And yes, they do feed into the Met."
"Then how..." he stopped and looked down at Livvy. "What kind of software, Livvy?"
She smiled up at him, "I'm a hacker."