Disclaimer: Characters belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle; this particular version belongs to Steven Moffat & Mark Gatiss.

The Good Doctor
Chapter 9

Falling

Doctor Watson sat down on his comfortable desk chair in the clinic office as he placed his mug of tea on a stack of spread out articles written by Mary on the desk and smiled as he checked his personal email inbox. Ms. Morstan and he had been constantly keeping in touch for quite a few weeks now. Their conversations had quickly strayed from medical advice to more personal matters; they had started out emailing on his work address, but as the conversations took a turn for the better (in his opinion), he quickly gave her his information which included his cellular phone number and his other email address. She had a way with words that didn't exactly help John's innate flirtatious nature, and even though she was technically a patient at the hospital, she was really considered an outpatient so it didn't really hurt to talk. After all, what would he do? Give her copious prescriptions for sleeping pills for her to overdose? If they started something more than just a doctor-patient relationship, he had no qualms passing her to his colleague, Doctor Douglas (whom he rather disliked), in order to ensure the legality and ethnicity of such a thing.

Pecking at the letters on the keyboard, the blond physician typed out a response, mustering up the courage to ask her out for dinner, firmly deciding that yes, he would rather take the risk for his personal life and pass her to Doctor Douglas. It had been a long while since he was interested at the thought of a female companion since he'd been out of the army, but he couldn't help himself when it came to Ms. Morstan. There was something about her that grabbed him by the heart from the first moment he had laid eyes on her. Before entering his military service, John admitted he could be considered as a bit of a philanderer but he hoped that his silver tongue didn't give her any ideas. It wasn't something that he could control; it was in his nature whether he liked it or not. Satisfied after proof reading his response, John clicked send and checked the outbox, a bit paranoid that it hadn't gone through. The veteran knew that as wonderful as technology was, it wasn't always reliable. After revealing that it had indeed sent, he logged out and signed into another account, his 'business' account. Or rather, his 'other business' account. It was a bit of a hassle to keep up with, but he had been doing a fine job remembering which account was which so far.

There were a few menial requests for reconnaissance and stealing back stolen artifacts that were mainly from rich bastards or paranoid lovers. How a vast majority of the common folk knew about his services was beyond him, but he was an expert at being untraceable, so as long as he kept himself out of the way from bigger organizations and other mercenaries, he was in good shape. As usual, business was definitely booming. On top of that, he hadn't felt so much as a twinge of pain from his leg ever since that rainy day when he dug up his old cane.

After replying to said emails and rejecting a few for using outdated passphrases, he saw that a small notification popped up the lower right corner of his screen, reminding him that he had a meeting with a client that night. He had completely forgotten about it and groaned. John really didn't want to cancel the dinner date he had just made with Mary, but decided he could do both and didn't bother emailing her to take a raincheck.

Bringing him out of his reverie, his pager went off, ordering him to go to the emergency centre immediately. He sighed, logged out of his email, and stood up, grabbing his coat that was resting on the chair as he walked out. He traversed down the long corridor, past the lobby, down another corridor, and finally reached the clinic. As soon as he stepped through the double doors, he saw a flash of golden hair and immediately knew why he was called. The fact that there really were only a handful of people in the centre didn't hurt hi deductions at all.

Mary Morstan looked up, distracted by the commotion of someone entering the double doors and caught John's eyes. He face immediately lit up and the doctor noticed she was grasping blood-soaked gauzes to her right arm. After a second of being fazed by her beautiful eyes and cascading cornsilk hair, Doctor Watson stood up straight in alarm and he hurried over to her side.

"Mary! What happened? I'm assuming you asked to page me?" John said as he carefully raised her arm to look at the damage.

The blonde woman shifted her eyes to the left and let out a sheepish grin.

"How did you know?"

John shook his head a tutted, moving over to grab some medicinal supplies so he could give her stitches and put on some latex gloves. He dragged over a rolling tray and a stool to sit next to the bed and ordered her to lay her arm across the tray to clean it and then slathered some medicine to numb her arm when he was done. As he began to stitch up her arm, he raised his eyes at her expectantly.

"So?" he questioned, trying to be as gentle as he could.

Mary avoided his gaze and looked straight ahead.

"Uh, I sort of accidentally cut myself with a knife. You know. While I was in my kitchen. Cooking," she said.

John pursed his lips. "I thought you lived in London?"

"Oh yes, I do. I was at a friend's house, cooking. You know," she responded quickly.

That was a reasonable answer, John thought, so he didn't bother pressing her any further and continued to sew her skin as neatly as possible. He was no plastic surgeon, but he was pretty adept at stitching.

After a moment of silence, he piped up, "Have you checked your email, by any chance?" he said casually.

Mary tilted her head and squinted her eyes, as if she were trying to muster up the image of her inbox and shook her head, rattling the blonde curls that were neatly twisted into columns which hung near her collarbones. The other half of her hair was swept up and clipped in the back leaving her side-swept bangs to hang cooly across her forehead a bit over her eyes. "I can't say that I have. Why? Did you leave a message, John?" she asked shyly.

It was essentially the first time John had ever heard her call him by her first name. Sure, they had begun to refer to each other as such through their emails, but there was something about the weight of his name on her lips that made John feel like a shy adolescent discovering the opposite gender for the first time. He smiled.

"I, well I mean, if you can't, it's totally fine because I don't know if you're busy tonight-I'm sure you are-but I was wondering if you'd like to..you know, have dinner with me?" he asked lamely. For some reason, his silver tongue lost its power whenever he caught sight of the silky golden strands that rested on the head of the beautiful reporter.

Mary blinked her eyes several times causing John to go into a panicked mode. What if she rejected him and never wanted to speak to him again? What if she didn't like him that way? What if she said yes? What would he do? Where would they go?

Thoughts continued to whirl around the doctor's head internally while externally, he sat calmly, added the finishing touches to her stitches, waiting for her answer for what seemed like an eternity.

When he was done, he set down his supplies and moved to take the gloves off his hands when he felt a hand softly touch his shoulder. I looked up at Mary who was giving him a very sweet smile. For a moment, his heart stopped.

"Yes, I would love to have dinner, John," she said.

Sebastian sat in his small, dark flat, gazing in the mirror at himself. He tapped his glass eye and stared in wonder. His boss had offered to give him a visual prosthesis, but he opted to go for just an implant to retain his monocular vision which had proven its use in developing his sniping skills. If he had been given sight in his lost eye, it might have affected his superb marksmanship which he had honed with such skill, he never missed.

Never.

As much as he hated to admit it, Irene was right. It was better now that he had a fake eye because he could move around, blend in with the crowds. It was a definitely a much advantageous situation than when he wore his eye patch all the time. It did nothing but attract unwanted attention and it was just plain itchy all the time. Very annoying.

The sniper tore his eyes away from his reflection and scratched his chin, making a mental note to shave. He had been lazing around for a couple hours now, not wanting to tail that blond idiot around all the time. He really never understood how the Professor knew everything or where he got his information. That was the sole reason why he was the boss and Sebastian was his "lackey", according to his partner and The Woman.

Women. He didn't need them. They were nothing but trouble in his opinion. In a way, he hoped that his partner would screw up big time and would be 'released' from the organization which was precisely the reason why he "forgot" to relay Ms. Adler's message to her.

Oops. His bad.

He flopped on the bed and flipped open his phone, checking to see if the Professor had any jobs for him. Well, he was half right. He opened a text message from his boss who chastised him for getting off that blond mercenary's trail. Sebastian groaned, wondering how he knew, but hoisted himself up anyway and headed to his bathroom to take a shower.

He loved taking showers and never took having clean water for granted. He had learned that lesson the hard way during the time period when he lost his eye. The assassin shook his head, attempting to rid his head of the bad memories. He didn't want to remember, not even a little bit. There was something that was bothering him though, something he was forgetting, but he didn't have the drive or desire to hold onto that feeling and chase it until he found his answer. That was the past and he preferred to keep it that way. Out of habit, Sebastian reached up to readjust his eyepatch, but his fingers met the air. He touched the skin above the top of his eye, tracing the long scar that ran from a bit above his eyebrow all the down to a good half inch past the bottom of his eye, right where his eye socket was. Sebastian was extremely lucky all he got was a missing eye and a giant scar.

After shaving and getting dressed, he flopped on his pageboy hat and grabbed his guitar case, his rifle hidden safely inside, turned off the light switch and walked out the door, not looking forward to his extremely boring assignment. After a moment, Sebastian doubled back and fished out a couple throwing knives from his sock drawer for good measure. If he got lucky, hopefully he would get a chance to take someone out tonight.

The sun was setting, bathing the hospital in a warm orange glow. John and Mary had decided to leave after he had completed her stitches which really didn't take that much time at all. He still had a bit left to go in his work day, but it was almost time for him to get off, so what harm would leaving half an hour early do?

As they walked out the clinic and down the corridor, the doctor gestured towards the benches in the lobby he usually wasted his days on. "Please, sit. I'm going to get changed really quickly and I'll be back soon, okay? Won't take long at all," he smiled as she nodded. Mary sat down with her coat in her arms, observing the small, but homey lobby around her. John fished his phone out of his pocket as soon as he turned his back and sent a text to his client.

It had been a minute or so when a very skinny boy in light blue scrubs plopped down on the bench next to her. She wasn't one to be uncomfortable when a stranger sat beside her, but this young man was a bit too close for her comfort. Mary shifted, trying to inch over as discreetly as possible, just as the young man held out his hand, grinning at her.

Mary raised an eyebrow and took it, shaking his hand.

"Hello! My name is Andrew. How are you today?" he chirped.

The blonde was a bit taken aback, but she quickly regained her composure.

"Hello, there. My name is Mary. I am doing well today. Um, how are you?" she responded as naturally as possible.

The young man grinned at her.

"Are you Doctor Watson's date?" he asked, immediately causing a blush to creep up on Mary.

She nodded and looked down at her fingernails as if they were suddenly the most interesting things to look in the world.

The intern leaned back and propped his elbows on the top of the bench. He crossed his right ankle over his left knee.

"Well, I have to say, Doctor Watson did very well. What do you do for a living, Mary?"

Ms. Morstan felt a bit like she were getting interrogated by her boyfriend's father. She looked up at the red head with a bemused expression on her face.

"Why, Andrew, I am a journalist," she answered truthfully.

The young man's face perked up.

"Oh cool! I almost became a journalist, but I found my passion in medicine. I also got lucky, getting John for a teacher," he said mirthfully. "What kind of journalism do you focus on?"

Mary started petting her coat, smoothing it out. "I focus on crime, mostly, but I do it all. Ethics, politics, you know. Actually, these days I find myself writing about those recent rashes of vigilante acts," she told him.

Andrew's eyes widened. "No way! You wrote those articles? In The Times, right? I always cut them out and keep them," he said a bit embarrassed.

Mary was touched. Here, finally, was a person who actually enjoyed reading her work! And he cherished it!

At that moment, John walked back down the hall, eyeing the two. as he zipped up his brown leather jacket and shifted his bag onto his other shoulder.

"Andrew," he said in a low warning tone. His intern smirked at him and stood up, walking over to his favorite doctor. He clasped the man's shoulder, patted it twice, and jovially sauntered back down the hallway, returning to his work.

John watched him leave for a moment before turning his attentions towards the beautiful woman sitting in front of him. Her sleeve was still rolled up from where John stitched her up and she was fussing with her jacket. Mary jumped up to her feet and looked at him expectantly.

"Shall we go then?" the doctor asked, extending his elbow out for her to take.

The blonde woman held on and smiled at him, "Yes, we shall."

xxx

"I hope you don't mind my attire. And where I'm taking you, It was...a bit last minute," John said to Mary as they sat in the back of a cabbie he had hailed down after they left the building. He looked down at his jeans, worn leather jacket, and his red and white plaid shirt. The woman shook her head. It really didn't what he wore or wherethey went as long as she was with him. She had never felt so much feeling towards a single person and couldn't quite pinpoint what she felt. Did she just fancy him? Did she love him? Did she just...simply like him? Just like and nothing more? Who was this mysterious doctor who swept her off her feet? She had no idea, but the moment she first saw him sitting at his desk, she knew she would be hooked on him like a drug addict on heroin. He was handsome and polite. A perfect gentleman. Then of course, there was his subtle flirtatious nature. He wasn't aware of it, but she could tell, even under all the stammering he did sometimes. It was actually rather adorable.

Mary looked at her phone to check the time. It was nearing seven o'clock and the sun had set, casting their world into a dark evening. The reflection of all the passing streetlamps were mystical in the light of the cab and she felt content, but acutely aware of what was going on. She was on a date. The first date since...God knows how long. The car slowed down and halted, bringing her back to reality.

"Here you go, sir, ma'm. Have a lovely evening, you two," the driver said, flashing them a toothy grin as John leaned forward to pay the fare. He nodded and Mary returned a small smile before sliding out the door.

"I really hope you like Italian," the doctor said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Italian's my favorite," Mary said as she reached up to sweep her bangs back. They promptly fell back in place.

John helped her through the door like a gentleman and they were immediately seated at a table towards the back, overlooking the entire restaurant, as soon as he gave his name (the doctor had called ahead of time to make a reservation when he was changing). The couple looked around, impressed at his choice of dining venue. It was quite nice, really. There were white linen-cloth covered tables everywhere, the silverware atop of them glinting and twinkling from the reflection of the white lights there were strung up along the walls and around the corinthian columns. The walls were white and deep maroon on different sides, white being the dominant color. The victorian chairs were black on both the decorative framing and the printed cloth on the padding. On the east wall hung a great big mirror with a large black frame that matched the black of the chairs. It was a very posh and modern restaurant, but not too fancy.

The waiter immediately brought menus and drinks, offering a wine selection which they both refused due to obligations they had to tend to afterwards (separately of course). After ordering, the two blondes sat in a companionable silence, listening to the soft strings of violin music through invisible speakers, which was broken when John asked, "So, Mary, what do your parents do?"

Mary Morstan piqued at his question.

"Well, my mother died when I was very young, barely a child, and my father was a military man. I'm not quite sure what he did, but I he had been stationed around India for a bit," she answered truthfully.

John straightened up at the mention of the military. "I'm terribly sorry for your loss. Must have been hard to grow up without a mother," he said sadly.

The pale blonde woman waved her hand in the air as if she were brushing off his comments. "No worries. That's all done in the past," she said, "My father, well, he tried, but I think ultimately, being raised by an au pair was better for me in the long run. I don't know much about his military stuff."

John licked his bottom lip. "I, actually, was in the military myself," he told her.

"Oh really now?"

The veteran nodded. "Yes. Captain Watson in the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. I was an army doctor," he said as he gave her a mock salute.

Mary cracked a smile. "Well, if my father knew I was seeing a military man, I don't think he'd know what to do with himself. He'd positively die with happiness," she teased as John blushed and looked at his napkin. Where was their food? His ears honed in on the sound of clinking and mindless chatter from the people around them until finally, their food arrived.

"Table for two, please, under Compton," Richard Compton told the host. The surly looking man looked at his list and found his name. He grabbed a menu and nodded, gesturing towards the tables. "Right this way, sir."

The middle-aged man shifted his eyes around, trying to look for The Doctor, but so far, he saw nothing but couples. There was no way The Doctor would actually be on a date here, right? But then again, he thought, The Doctor was a smart man. He could be part of the staff, or even the host. Richard squinted and glared daggers at the host's back who immediately felt a chill run down his spine. He shook it off and pulled out one of the chairs at an open table, waving his arm to indicate the customer should sit which he promptly did. When offered the wine list, he refused and ordered water. He had come here once with his late wife, so he also ordered her favorite dish she would always get every time they went there.

While waiting for his meal (after all, he might as well have dinner), he looked all around the room, trying to pinpoint anyone that looked like he might be a mercenary. For all he knew though, The Doctor could be a female, but he had an inkling it was a man. He looked to his right, but all he saw was the back of the head of a skinny man eating alone in the corner, almost invisible to everyone. Then there was a rotund couple laughing rambunctiously about some horrid joke he had said to her. Then there was a male dining with another male, two teenagers, and then a blond couple, and a lot more people that certainly didn't look like they could be The Doctor. He thought the blond man might have a possibility of being the mysterious mercenary, but he looked too small and...uncommanding. The blonde woman appeared to be a bit out of his league as well, but it was none of his business. Best of luck to that chap, he thought.

xxx

John subtly checked his watch as Mary spoke on about some article she was working on, quickly darting his eyes down towards his wrist as he held his fork. He had told his client to dine at this particular establishment at exactly 7:40pm. The minute hand struck the 8th hour and as if right on cue, the door opened and a lone man entered the premises. The doctor had a clear view of everyone in the entire restaurant, including the host, thus he was clearly able to watch as the middle-aged man with peppered hair sat down. It was a bit amusing to watch him shift uncomfortably, darting his eyes at each patron. When he almost made contact with John, the doctor darted his eyes back onto Mary's face and smiled, laughing at something she said. He didn't actually catch it, but she was laughing, so he followed suit. John reached over and touched her left hand, which was resting atop the table. A slow reddish tint made its way in her lovely cheeks, but she didn't flinch or move.

As both blondes were finishing up their meals after a while, the waiter came by and dropped off the check. Without thinking, John slipped his credit card in it and handed it back, not even bothering to check how much the dinner cost. Both the waiter and Mary stared at him. The dark-haired man made off with the check after raising his eyebrows which left Mary to interrogate him.

"Um, John, dear, don't you think you should have checked the price?" she said.

John was absentmindedly playing with his food, scooting the leftover noodles around the remnants of his alfredo sauce when he looked up at the sound of her voice.

"What?"

"The check." Mary nodded her head towards the direction the waiter left who had been in such shock, he had forgotten to clear their plates.

Oh no. John hadn't looked at it at all. Of course that would look suspicious, wouldn't it? The doctor knew fully well that he had more than enough money. This dinner was chump change, but if he were to get involved with Mary any further, she would start questioning where all the money was coming from. He had to think fast.

He forced a fake laugh. "Ah, the check. I, uh, yes. The check..." He pursed his lips. "I'm very good at saving money, so it's fine. I have more than enough. You know. I've invested here and there," he said, lamely. How he could master a double life but failed at such a simple lie was beyond him. Fortunately for him, Ms. Morstan chose not to push it.

The waiter came back with his credit card and receipt, finally clearing their plates as the two patrons rose. The doctor glanced over at his client and noticed he was still eating. It was alright. He would let him finish before texting him to meet up at the park.

As they exited the building, they both glanced up at the stars as they strolled down the street. It had apparently showered a bit while they were inside, unbeknownst to them. The sky was clear, providing a wonderful view of the heaps of gas glowing brightly millions of lightyears away.

"It's so beautiful, isn't it?" Mary sighed, a small stream of steam escaping her lips. It was chilly tonight, especially with the changing weather. The temperatures were steadily dropping with each day.

John couldn't help to agree. He lowered his eyes towards Mary whose pale skin and golden hair seemed to glow in the moonlight. He brushed a strand of hair back towards her bangs and out of her eyes, a futile move on his part as the strand fell back down. She slowly lowered her gaze from the sky to his face, her pupils clearly dilated. John leaned forward and their breaths began to mingle.

"Is it alright if I kissed you?" he murmured.

Mary made the slightest nod, and with that, John Watson closed in, kissing the first woman he ever loved.

A/N:

I know, it's late T^T Life is kicking me in the butt, but I'm still trying, for you guys! :)
This is definitely not the end of the night. I was going to write more, but I felt like this was a good stopping point (also, it was getting pretty lengthy. lol)

Gosh. John is so cute.
Also, IT'S GETTING THERE. The next one is where the ball really gets rolling!
This is also my first time writing any type of 'romantic' crap, so, please, bear with me. haha. Not the best word usage, but whatever.
I also didn't proofread this...so...if there's any mistakes, it'll probably get fixed later, but I just wanted to put this up ASAP.
Also, my friends were being really moronic this weekend so I want to say: don't drink and drive.

Thank you absolutely positively very very much for reading! You guys are seriously the best people on this earth. (yeah...a totally unbiased, objective opinion...)