Sarah, bless her heart thought John, ignored him entirely.
"What can I do for you John?"
John glanced at Sherlock, examining the cabinets of medical supplies, and made a note to pat him down before they left.
"Blood glucose, electrolytes, ketones."
She nodded. "Finger stick for the glucose or draw?"
"Both."
She set about gathering supplies, swatting Sherlock's hand away from cupboards like a child in a cookie jar. She returned with alcohol swabs, test strips, finger pokers, collection vials, needles, a tourniquet, an ancient blood glucose monitor, a urine collection bottle, and a set of gloves.
"Finger first, and then I'll get you to pee in the cup while the meter thinks about it."
John nodded, holding out his finger for Sarah to swab and poke, and barely blinked as she squeezed out a droplet that was big enough to sustain a vampire.
"Sorry," she said. "We really need to get new ones."
Sherlock stood over, watching, as Sarah stuck a plaster on John's finger and handed him the bottle. He smiled at her and trudged off to fill it up.
Sherlock came over to poke at the supplies still left out.
"What's that for?" he asked, poking his finger at the machine, which was counting down. Slowly.
Sarah swatted his hand away again.
"Stop touching or I will send you back to the waiting room. Sit," she ordered, pointing to the extra chair in the room. He obeyed.
John returned with the filled bottle, raising an eyebrow bemusedly at Sherlock.
"We'll send that off to the lab. Now sit yourself down and we'll draw some blood."
"Is the meter done?"
"Just finishing up... now."
"And?"
They could both tell by the look on her face. Sherlock wasn't sure what it meant, but it was one of those 'not good because I have to tell you bad news' looks.
"23.4."
John sat back in the chair dejectedly and held out his arm.
"Yeah, I expected that," he admitted.
Sarah nodded. "We'll just get another sample to send off to the lab and check the urine for ketones. And it'll be the hospital for you I'm afraid."
John smiled sadly. "No chance of doing it here on an outpatient basis? I know what to do and everything."
"We'll see," she replied, expertly threading the needle into his arm and drawing out two vials.
"Hold that there," she told him, exchanging her fingers for his on the gauze.
Sherlock looked between them blankly.
"What's going on?"
John grinned. "You haven't figured it out yet?"
Sherlock frowned. He hated when John didn't tell him things. It was the only reason why he came to the clinic with him. It certainly wasn't for the entertainment value, although he had to admit that was high.
"Tell me," he demanded.
They both ignored him.
"All the usual symptoms?" she asked.
John nodded, ticking them off on his fingers. "Increased thirst, urination, hunger, I've been tired, and probably some weight loss, although I haven't checked."
Now that Sherlock looked closely, he realized John was probably right. Why hadn't he noticed that?
"Then it's almost positive. This really warrants an admission you know."
"Can you just dip it for ketones? Any ketones and I'll go to the hospital, I promise," he pleaded, giving her his best wooing look.
Sherlock held back a snort.
But it worked.
"Trace. Not enough to warrant a hospital visit."
John smiled broadly. "The deal still stands then? Write me a script for strips and insulin, and I'll go home. Out patient consult tomorrow and everything."
Finally, finally, Sherlock got it.
"Diabetes mellitus," he announced proudly.
John slow clapped for him. Sherlock scowled.
"A bit old for that aren't you?" he scoffed.
"Never!" John declared.
Sherlock frowned. "That's another one of those movie references I don't get, isn't it?"
"If you'd watch them with me instead of moaning about me watching them..."
Sherlock dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "Dull. Can we go now?"
"No, not yet," Sarah interrupted. "I've got to write John some scripts, give him some information, and set up an appointment for him tomorrow with an endocrinologist."
"Dull," Sherlock sighed.
"There's really no need for you to accompany me to that," John reminded him.
Sherlock scoffed. "Of course there is. I have to be able to take care of you."
John blushed when Sarah smiled at them with The Smile. The one he hated.
"Shut up," he muttered.
"It's true," he told John, completely missing the point. "If you're sick or pass out or something, especially on a case, it will greatly impede my work."
"Right. The Work."
Sherlock frowned. John was mocking him. Wasn't he?
Sarah dug through drawers and gathered a stack of papers and pamphlets, all brightly coloured.
"Some reading material. Oh, don't do that," she scoffed, seeing John roll his eyes. "I know you know the theory, but it's always better to be safe. A sliding scale for food and dosing, as well as information about the long acting. I'll give you a shot and let you look this over while I call and make you an appointment."
She stood back and studied him. "You're left handed, so I'll give it to you in the left arm. You're less likely to do your own injections there, and you need to rotate your sites."
John nodded and rolled up his sleeve. Sarah swabbed him with an alcohol wipe and left him to dry while she drew up the needle.
"This should get you back down into just slightly above normal range, just to be safe. Don't want you passing out from hypoglycemia."
John nodded and looked away as Sarah injected the needle into his arm.
"All done," she stated. John rolled down his sleeve.
All the while, Sherlock just watched with fascination.
Sarah left the room with instructions for John to read the paperwork.
Sherlock noticed John looked... almost sad. Not quite though. Glum?
"You look... glum," he stated carefully, leaving room for John to correct him. He didn't.
"Well, I have just been diagnosed with a disease I'm going to have for the rest of my life. It tends to get you down a bit."
Sherlock nodded. He understood. Or he thought he did anyway.
"Why aren't you reading those. Sarah told you to read them."
John sighed. "Sherlock, I already know all this stuff. You can feel free to read it if you like."
Not even hesitating, Sherlock snatched the top couple of pamphlets from the stack and skimmed them. He tossed them back at John when he was done.
"You read them that fast?" he asked skeptically.
"Of course."
John rolled his eyes. "Should have suspected that I suppose."
"Yes, yes you should have," Sherlock replied, bored again. He examined the machine that Sarah had swatted his hand away from.
"I'll be getting one of those," John noted. "Much smaller and more efficient, but still..." he shrugged. "I'm sure there will be lots of room for experiments for you." He grinned, but it was more to make himself feel better than to reassure Sherlock who was fine, obviously. He was always fine.
Sarah returned with sheets of paper and a business card.
"Appointment tomorrow at ten thirty, and here are the scripts. Go fill them now. Sherlock, you make him do it. This is serious. You need to stay home with him tonight and not drag him off gallivanting somewhere."
Sherlock nodded, taking his duty seriously.
"Call me if there's anything else, or any questions."
"Thank you," John told her.
She grinned. "It's not often I get patients who come in knowing what they have. It's kind of nice for a change. Most of them have viral illnesses and still demand antibiotics."
Sherlock snorted. "Told you so," he muttered, nudging John.
John threw one last smile to Sarah and dragged Sherlock out by his sleeve.