Sorry this is a few hours late, its been one of those weeks, every time I think I am going to have time to write, something comes up.
June 14th, 2005
John's POV
First thing this morning he checks his schedule, looking over what patients and paper work he will be dealing with. He is happy when he sees Sherlock's name scheduled in at five pm. He puts in a request for dinner to be ordered right before the staff leaves for the night on the messaging system, and immediately gets a no problem from the ladies up front. Normally when he has meals with a new patient it is at lunch time. Once that is done, he prepares for his day a head, double checking his notes for other patients he will be seeing.
His day goes relatively quickly. Mikayla and her daughter Linda are his first appointment of the day at eleven am, Linda had been born with hearing issues, and while not completely deaf, Mikayla is concerned that her daughter will lose the rest of her hearing, and has decided that getting her help now is waiting until it's too late. Thankfully the young girl is more than willing to work with them. He has already made arrangements for her to join a local deaf and hard of hearing play group. His second patient of the day is Jenson, a young man who has not been the easiest to work with because he is still trying to deny the fact that he is probably permanently deaf. He's happy he has lunch after he is done dealing with Jenson, because that young man pushes his buttons in all the worse ways. After lunch he has Carl who is actually a patient who wants to eventually become one of their councilors, right now though he is still working on learning to speak and sign at the same speed so he can deal with both family and patients. His last patient before he has a little office time is Meri and her parents Nick and Ethan. Meri was recently adopted, and the moment her new parents discovered that she had hearing issues that had not been appropriately dealt with they had went looking for ways to help. Normally Meri sees Doctor Lang but current, Doctor Lang is out of town for a medical conference.
When Sherlock first gets there, the nurse on duty pops in to tell him, -Your last appointment is here, Ella is going to place the food order in half hour or so, that way it gets here just before its time to go since you're staying late with the new patient. I'll bring it in as soon as it gets here. The only person with him is Miss Morel.-
-Thank you Andrea,- he replies, -please bring him back and thank Ella for me.-
-Of course John,- she replies before withdrawing.
He glances about his office for a moment, making sure that there is a note pad and pen available for Sherlock's use before standing as he spots the door opening the rest of the way.
-Hello Sherlock,- he signs, sitting back down after the younger man sits down in front of the desk.
The dark-haired man gives him a closed off look. Studying him with wide eyes that seem both flat and vibrant all at once, reflecting the inner turmoil he must be feeling.
-Andrea will bring us dinner before she goes,- he comments as he studies his newest patient. At this point he has already decided Sherlock will be one of his since he doesn't have to worry about the time or getting home to a family. He is also sure that will give the younger man a chance to relax around him.
Light eyes blink at him in shock before Sherlock slowly nods.
Like the previous day, he turns his attention to doing paperwork rather than focusing directly on Sherlock. Despite that, he is still very aware of what the younger man is doing.
When he first met Mycroft Holmes two weeks prior he had seen a man full of despair, worry, and almost out of options. He had reviewed the medical files provided even though he normally prefers to get the patient's consent, not just the family member making the appointment. What he found in those records had concerned him, and he had immediately made up a list of things that could be done to help the situation, sending the recommendations to Mycroft while preparing a plan for himself. Then he had met Sherlock last night and the first thing he thought was: here is a person who needs someone to be there and acknowledge them as a person in pain. They had sat in his office for six hours just adjust to each other's presence. He had been shocked when Sherlock had accepted his offer of coming back today and dinner.
The first hour is spent with him working and keeping an eye on the younger man who is watching him with sharp, unsure eyes.
Just after six pm, Andrea knocks at the door and presses the small flash button he has had installed on all of them, a moment later she is slipping in with the take away and dishes.
-Thank you,- he tells her once she has set it down.
-You're welcome,- she responds with a nod to both of them before slipping out of the office.
Sherlock stares at the food for a few minutes before he finally signing, -Thank you.- The younger man's hands tremble slightly as he makes himself a plate.
He nods in response, smiling and making a plate for himself.
They eat in companionable silence, simply relaxing and sharing a space as they eat their dinners. When they are done with dinner, he cleans the mess up, trashing the food containers and stacking the plates on a tray used for just that purpose.
Sherlock goes back to watching him while he returns to reports. He is actually nearly caught up on his reports, which is a rare thing.
It is nearing nine pm again when his companion finally asks, -Why?-
What a loaded question, he thinks. That could go so many ways. Why is he waiting for Sherlock to want to communicate? Why is he not pushing the younger man to speak? Why is he not speaking aloud? Why is he willing to sit there so long in silence?
-Silence and acceptance are sometimes the foundation of understanding.- He eventually answers.
That answer seems to startle Sherlock. His bright eyes study him in shock and distrust.
He understands, truly, he does. It's very easy to distrust everyone and anyone when every time he's tried to trust in the past he has been hurt. It's hard to accept help when offers of help would have been back handed and full of expectations. Trying is so very hard when there is always something making the pit of his stomach clench in worry. It's so very difficult to reach out, ask for help, believing when betrayal litters the past and clogs the future in pain.
-I don't expect you to believe me, I know at this point I wouldn't believe me, but that is the truth.- he states, meeting and keeping Sherlock's gaze.
A frown curves the younger man's lips as he studies his face, probably looking for whether he is being truthful or not.
Sherlock's head jerks towards the door, a scowl on his face as he glares at it.
Ah, someone must have knocked. Since his staff is gone, it is probably Miss Morel. He clicks on the small button that flashes the entrance light, and has to keep himself from rolling his eyes when the younger man continues to scowl at the door.
Lightly he wraps his knuckles on the table, catching Sherlock's attention, -Since it is nine pm, would you like to make arrangements for later this week? Tomorrow I do not have time, but the night after or this weekend could be arranged.-
Those light eyes study him for a minute before the younger man slowly nods, -Yes,- he answers, though there is hesitation to his motions.
He smiles warmly, standing and motioning to the door.
Still scowling, the dark-haired man stands as well, reminding him that Sherlock is taller than him.
Quickly they move over to the door, he opens it up to find Miss Morel standing there, an impatient expression on her face.
-Miss Morel, I am certain my staff asked you to wait in the front room unless there is an emergency.- He remarks, keeping his eyes on her face.
She flushes, her lips twitching in a frown.
When she does not comment or tell him why she is there, he continues, -If you cannot listen to simple instructions, I will have to ask Mr. Holmes to send someone else with him in the future, or make arrangements to have an extra member of my staff stay here late in order to insure that we are not disturbed while speaking.-
She scowls at him further, but still doesn't comment.
There is a very light touch on his elbow, drawing his attention to Sherlock.
–I don't think she knows BSL.- the younger man signs slowly, hands moving a bit unsure of themselves.
He nods and frowns, pulling his phone out of his pocket and quickly typing a message.
=Mr. Holmes. The woman you sent as Sherlock's escort does not understand BSL and does not follow instructions. Can other arrangements be made?= JW
Less than a minute later the phone vibrates, a new message coming up.
=My apologies, other arrangements are being made now.= MH
He nods again, tucking his phone in his pocket. Turning to Sherlock, he bids him, -Have a pleasant evening.-
A slow nod is the only response he gets, but it's still better than what he hoped for.
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