Prompt: A ridiculously stressful and annoyance-filled day.

A/N: SUPERFLUFFY!

I should point out that I do not mean any offense to real hypochondriacs with the character of Mrs. Hardwicke. I am aware that not all hypochondriacs behave as she does, however, there are some that do, and she's just one of them.
I also do not mean to imply that Edward Hardwicke is a hypochondriac, nor his wife/mother. His name was handy, is all.

"Yes, Mrs. Hardwicke, I completely understand," I said mechanically, patience wearing thin. The woman was a hypochondriac, without question, and despite my attempts to avoid her she continued marching into my consulting room whenever the fancy took her and demanded an opinion on her latest assortment of symptoms. "But there really is nothing wrong with you. You are the picture of health. Now if you will excuse me, I have other matters to attend to..."

Her shrill voice carried after me as I lead her to the door and ushered her through it. The moment the reassuring solidity of the door was safely between myself and that infuriating woman, I sank back against the wall and sighed. I could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on, and the day wasn't half over yet. I knew I had a mother with her young twin boys coming by later, and I dreaded the thought of having to control two children while at the same time ensuring their health. And their mother, while a charming woman, was prone to worry more than she ought about them. There was just too much to concentrate on..

I had just made it back behind my desk when the maid knocked tentatively on the door, saying that there was a man here to see me. I told her to show him in, and found myself faced with one of the largest men I have ever seen. It seemed he had been careless with a knife and, as he explained with a sheepish grin, cut himself rather badly across the arm. I failed to see how even the clumsiest of people could cut himself across his arm like that, and suspected that he was hiding a less innocent cause. I decided not to comment; this was not one of Holmes' little problems, and if the man had a gash across his arm for whatever reason it was no business of mine, though I couldn't help being curious.

The wound was easy to treat, certainly, and I had it cleaned and wrapped within the hour. That hour, however, was one of the most tedious of my entire life. The man, who introduced himself as Mr. Melville, may have been inclined to keep quiet about the cause of his wound, but he was not the least bit inclined to keep quiet about anything else. He had an opinion on everything, from politics to how children were being raised these days, up to and including the decour in my consulting room. At first I tried making polite conversation with him, but when that proved to be a lost cause I simply tuned him out, nodding unwavering agreement and occasionally muttering "absolutely," and "quite true," while forcing myself not to rush the job for the sole purpose of getting him out of my presence any faster.

By the time he left, still explaining his views on whichever topic he was speaking about now, Mrs. Norwood had arrived with her children, and I was forced to give my full attention to the boys, who were in a particularly mischivous mood. It was all I could do to keep them from wreaking havoc in my office, while explaining all the while to their mother the steps she should be taking to prevent her children from taking ill (if only to keep them healthy so as to avoid any more visits to me than necessary). Two hours and a broken picture frame later, I was ready to collapse. I fervently wished that Mary was not visiting Mrs. Forrester; her sweet nature and attentiveness always let her know when I was feeling overworked, as I did now, and she always had a kind word or gesture for me. Small things, but in their absence I felt I sorely needed them.

The rest of my day progressed in a similar vein; it had begun to drizzle slightly and no matter how I tried I could not get a cab to stop for me when going out to make several house calls, though I was almost run down twice by occupied ones. It was not far to walk, but even so by the time I returned to my office at the end of the day I was decidedly damp. Not wanting to catch cold I was about to change into fresh clothes when Mrs. Hardwicke sauntered into my office yet again.

"Doctor Watson," she said, in her particular shrill voice, "I have just recently become aware of some more symptoms--I immediately came to you, so that you can examine them."

I rubbed my temples wearily. "Mrs. Hardwicke, my hours are clearly displayed on the door. I cannot see you right now, but I am sure that whatever symptoms you may have are not serious."

She sniffed, and looked offended. "I do not appreciate being brushed aside like this, Doctor," she proclaimed haughtily. "You are a physician, are you not? You are supposed to treat people."

"Yes, Mrs. Hardwicke," I said, my patience finally snapping. "People who are sick! You are not sick."

"I beg your pardon, Doctor, but I have come to you because I believe I am showing signs of--"

"Mrs. Hardwicke, I can assure you that you are not showing signs of any sort of life-threatening disease! Now, whatever it is you are suffering from will have to wait until tomorrow, because I am simply not seeing patients at this hour."

The infuriating woman assumed her most disdainful look. "Doctor, I must insist that you see me now. I would have thought that as a medical man you would know the severity of the consequences of leaving an illness untreated. But I shall have you know that I will not leave this room until you have examined my symptoms."

I decided then that I had had enough. "Very well, Mrs. Hardwicke," I said, grabbing my coat off the back of my chair. "You may stay here as long as you like. I, on the other hand, am going out. Good evening." I brushed past her on my way out the door, and I could hear her shrill complaints following me for some ways down the street. It was possible that she would treat this as an unforgivable insult and find another doctor to harass, but unfortunately this was not likely; the moment she became aware of another 'symptom' she would forget all else and come rushing back.

I pulled my coat tighter around me against the rain. I hadn't even thought to grab an umberella, so desperate had I been to remove myself from that office, that person. And now I was stuck out in the rain. My mind ran grimly over the events of the day, and I found myself wishing bitterly that I had never studied medicine in the first place, although I knew in my heart that there was no other option for me. Some things in life, I had learned, are certainties, constants. One such constant was my profession; I had always known I was going to be a doctor.

And without even thinking about where I was going, I found myself on Baker Street. The rain was coming down quite a bit harder now, and I was grateful that I had kept the keys to my old lodgings.

Holmes was standing by the window, violin in hand. He looked up as I entered, and I saw his penetrating gaze taking in my wet clothing and heavy shoulders as I sank down into my customary chair. "Rough day, Watson?" he asked, his steely eyes softening slightly.

"No wonder you're a detective," I grumbled, rubbing my temples.

My friend reached for the teapot, which Mrs. Hudson had evidently just brought up, and poured a cup, which I accepted gratefully. He said nothing else, but instead raised his violin and began playing a soft melody, low and soothing. I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes as I allowed the music to wash over me. Even with eyes closed I could see clearly in my mind my friend standing by the window, his dark form swaying gently with the music, the fire casting a comforting glow over the scene. I felt myself finally beginning to relax. Some things in life were constants, as dependable as the sun rising with each new day. And no matter what else happened in life, there would always be a place in my mind and heart with a cozy fire, soft music, and as true a friendship as ever a man could hope for.