When he ushered his patient out of the room, he closed his door and leaned back against it- while hitting his head against it- and let out a relieved sigh. The last patient to visit him today had been a long one, since she demanded that he would go over every single instruction and the process of what would happen when she took prescribed cold medicine. Taking it was very simple, however she didn't think so.
Overall he had ten patients come into his home in just under three hours. The beauty of being an independent doctor and having your own working hours is that you can actually choose when you finish work and when you start. Usually he would keep the practice open for up to six hours- whenever he wanted a distraction- and the minimum amount would be just two hours. Obviously if someone were to book an appointment, any day would do as he opened it every day.
However, after the first two hours he felt like he couldn't go on, and the last patient didn't help so he closed early. The time was six o'clock in the evening, so most people wouldn't enter anyway. John walked over to his desk and sorted out a couple of files and put them in the right folders ready to go into the cabinet. Many of his patients came in today complaining about a cold, which was expected since it was coming towards the end of autumn.
As he was about to walk to the filing cabinet, the sound of many footsteps entered the flat on the ground floor. The sound was so incredible thunderous that the whole room shook with the noise; many of the painting handing up ended up out of place and uneven.
When the noise stopped, he thought about whether he should check what the noise was, but persuaded himself to ignore it. After putting the folders away, he straightened out all the pictures in the room and opened the window to let all the stuffy air out and cool breeze in. The gentle wind hit his face as he exhaled slowly. Unfortunately the view of below is far less pleasant that just opening the window.
Overflowing bins and strayed cats loomed around the alley; some of the cats he doesn't mind. Like the one with black fur and tall legs regularly visits and is the only one who doesn't make a mess of the place, but most of them make him want to pull his hair out.
Just as he was about to close the window, he heard the sounds of many voices from downstairs vibrate through the floorboards. Mrs Hudson rarely has visitors, so it was rather odd for him to hear it. When he closed the window, he walked over to the door and opened it again, but only wide enough for him to poke his head out. The voices still continued but after a minute, a louder sound of somebody hushing them all stopped the talking and again the flat returned to silence.
John never pried into Mrs Hudson's personal life, so thought it wasn't any of his business. Closing the door behind him, he grabbed the keys from his pocket and locked the door and headed towards the living room. Again, he still hadn't cleaned up since he returned from the hospital- which was a week ago- as the layers of dust on the furniture showed. Somehow his time was always occupied doing something else.
Heading over the window, he reached down to the floor for the 'open and closed' sign that he had for his services. He flipped the sides so that 'closed' was facing towards the window and placed it back down onto the floor. After a couple of hours work, he felt like he had done his deed for the day and headed over towards the fridge to grab a bottle of beer. However just as he was about to grab it, there was a sound of a cough behind him and his hand froze in place. Closing the fridge door again, he turned slowly to look at the person with him. When he saw who it was, he relaxed his muscles and gave her a warm smile.
Stood just outside the kitchen was one of the kids that helped him when he was stabbed; he remembered her easily as she talked about Sherlock with him; he thinks her name was Kathy.
"Hello," he said, still hunched on the other side of the room, "Kathy, isn't it?"
"Yes sir." she said, grabbing the grey, worn out cap from her head and twisting it with her hands.
"Where's everyone else? Do they know you're here?"
"I don't think so. They were busy doing something with Martha, a- and I knew you were here and I just, I mean... I don't know." she looked lost as she gazed around the room, as if she had never been here before, which may possible be true, "Does Sherlock live here?"
"Why are you here?" he asked, ignoring her question. She realised this and began to fidget even more with her cap and the cuffs on her coat, "I- I'm sorry. I'm sure you won't get in trouble for being up here, so don't look scared okay?" she looked up to him and nodded, "So what's wrong? What's happened?"
"Well nothing's happened sir. To anyone else I mean. They said that it would help cure itself but-" she paused and made a face that looked as if she was about to sneeze, "-I don't think it will. I've had it for a while. I think I'm sick."
"You think you might be sick?" he asked as she replied by releasing a noisy sneeze before covering her mouth with her coat sleeves, "Right, just hand on for a minute."
Walking over to the drawer counter, he pulled out a spare thermometer and cleaned it up with warm, soapy water before rinsing it with cool water. Shaking the thermometer, he walked slowly over to the girl and crouched down so that they were the same height.
"I'm just going to check your forehead for a minute, okay?" she looked uncertain at first, but then when she looked around the room again, she nodded. He placed the back of his free hand over Kathy's forehead and checked her temperature. There was no denying that her temperature was higher than average; far higher.
"Right, you know what this is?" she nodded again, "I'm just going to use this to check if you're poorly. First I need you to open your mouth a bit. Right, like that. Now I need you to lift your tongue up for me. Okay, you're doing great. Now I'm just going to use this-" he placed the thermometer under the tip of her tongue, "Right, and can you just close your mouth for me again and then hold the thermometer with your hand please?"
Once she did, he got back up onto his feet and stretched out his legs. Looking down, he saw that she was trying to speak with the thermometer but shook his head and turned towards the kitchen again, "Don't speak. You need to keep that it for three to four minutes at least." he walked over to the kettle to put water into it and walked back to turn it on.
Leaning against the counter, he waited for the four minutes to pass by while using his watch as a stop watch. There were many things he wanted to ask her, but couldn't because of obvious reasons. There would be no surprise if she was ill, considering she spends all her moments outside, whether sleeping or staying awake. Ever since last week, he had always feared when something like this might happen to kids as young as her who may be out there, or the older kids who look after them. The streets of London weren't safe for kids these days, especially since what's been happening recently.
Three minutes had passed so John walked back over to Kathy and crouched down again to her height. Gently he grabbed the thermometer, "Right, I need you to slowly open your mouth and then I can read your temperature." Lifting it close to his face, he read her temperature: 38 degrees Celsius, "Your temperature is rather high."
"Will I be okay? I don't want to be ill. I was ill last time and I didn't like it-"
"Right, okay. Well you are showing signs of a fever. Do you feel warm all the time?" she nodded. "Do you feel tired all the time? Like when you're walking around-"
"When we walk around London I want to go to sleep, but when I try to sleep I can't because it's too hot. I don't like it-"
Suddenly-coming up the stairs- the sounds of footsteps grew louder as the source headed closer towards the flat. John instantly looked up towards the living room, and then back at Kathy who looked rather bashful as she looked down at the floor.
As the door opened, many people walked into the room and found John and Kathy in the kitchen; instantly he recognised them all from last week, the ones who took him in while waiting for help; he also remembered their names. Daniel and Wiggins were stood in front of the group while Tom and Johnson were stood behind them. Seconds later, Ines appeared into the living room; then the kitchen and made a move to pick up Kathy.
"Kathy!" she said, cradling Kathy in her skinny arms, "What are you doing up here?" she turned to look back at John, "I'm so sorry about this. She shouldn't have done it. She's never done something like this before."
"I felt ill and Danny told me he was a doctor. Since last week I thought it would be okay!" Kathy was now trying to release herself from Ines, "I'm sorry Ines. I'm sorry Wiggins. I'm sorry Johnny and Danny and Tom." At this time, she was getting to the point of crying and shaking rather furiously.
"Okay everyone calm down. It's obvious that she isn't feeling well. I've checked and I'm positive that she has a fever and all of this isn't helping her. You need to put her back down, give her some water, let her stay in a proper bed-" Everybody besides Kathy and Wiggins laughed, "-and let her rest. You leave her illness unattended and it won't go away. Trust me, I'm a doctor."
" Wiggins! Ines!" Another voice was calling from the stairs which was the sound of Mrs Hudson walking towards them. When she appeared into the kitchen she stopped when she realised that John was stood there with everybody else.
It was then that John realised how Mrs Hudson knew their names. Kathy talked about the group doing something with 'Martha' when she came up to the flat. Never in time at 221B had he asked Mrs Hudson her real name, as he never thought about it but now it all made sense.
Mrs Hudson must be Martha; it was the only explanation.
Author's Note: People might have guesses Mrs Hudson was Martha, so well done :) I like where this story is going, if I say so myself. HOWEVER, if you don't like where it's going, then there is room for improvements :) Update will be sometime next week :)