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Chapter 23

John realized that he probably should have come in early and inspected his practice a little more closely because after Nardole had told him that Mrs Henderson would be his first patient today, he had spent no less than ten minutes looking for the patients' files until his receptionist had kindly pointed them out to him – after letting him search for a while. The more John saw of that man the more he thought that Missy was probably right.

"Send her in in five minutes," John told his receptionist, "I want to have a look at her file first."

"Yes, boss," Nardole replied and left John to himself inside his office. He glanced around for a moment and realized that he had no clue where everything was. He had never even wanted his own practice, but now that he was standing inside of it John thought that it wasn't so bad after all. At least it meant no more night shifts and his practice was just a short distance from his house. Yes, maybe it had been a good decision after all.

John made his way around his desk and sat down, instantly noticing the large, framed photograph placed where he could see it at all times. A photo of him and Clara outside on a sunny day, their arms slung around each other. They looked so happy that it brought a smile to his face even now. And yet John got the distinct feeling that something was missing from the picture, he could almost feel its absence. What could it be? John racked his brain, trying to figure out what exactly what it was and then it hit him and he wasn't quite sure what to make of that sudden feeling.

Children.

He and Clara had no children. But why was it bothering him?

John didn't have time to finish his thought when the door opened and an elderly lady stepped inside.

"Good morning, Mrs Henderson," John greeted her and gestured towards the chair in front of him. He assumed that it must be his patient and the woman didn't protest, so he must have been right. "What can I do for you today?"

"Ah, Dr Smith, it's the usual," the old woman complained.

John raised his eyebrows at her and then swiftly glanced down at the notes he had scribbled down in her file. The usual, in her case, seemed a lot. He sighed and decided to start by taking Mrs Henderson's blood pressure.

John had his hand in his pocket as he approached the building, turning the little note over between his fingers while the other hand still held his cane. Maybe it was a bad idea to come here, but he had questions and no one else had been able to give him a good answer. Bonnie was currently his only clue. He rang the doorbell.

Clara's sister looked surprised when she opened the door after a few moments and stopped. "I didn't expect to see you," she said, but after the surprise had passed she held the door open for him and John stepped inside.

He knew even less about Bonnie than he did about Clara, except for what she had told him a few days ago, so he looked around her flat for any kind of information about what kind of person she was – and found nothing. The flat only held a few essentials, a sofabed, a box for a coffee table, a small folding table and two camping chairs in the kitchen area and a rack that served as wardrobe. Bonnie had nothing.

"I suppose you've come to give me a good scolding," she said after a moment and looked straight at him, "Well, go ahead. Shout at me all you want."

John frowned at her in reply. "I came to talk," he explained, "I'm confused and I need some answers."

Bonnie nodded and eventually pointed at the sofa. Reluctantly John sat down next to her, now uncertain how he should begin. He hadn't really thought about what he was going to say to her, he had simply picked the small note with Bonnie's address off the floor before Clara had had a chance to throw it away for good and he had come here, utterly unprepared.

"Why did you pretend to be Clara when you stopped by on Friday?" he asked eventually. Yes, that seemed like a good point to start.

Bonnie shrugged. "It wasn't planned," she said simply, "I mean, I knew about your condition and I realized you didn't know who I was, so when you offered me dinner I just went with it. I thought it couldn't hurt. I didn't think you'd kiss me. I just did it for the free food."

Something about her answer made John chuckle.

"What? You're not mad?" Bonnie asked him, frowning.

"Well, I know someone who definitely is," he replied, "Your sister."

She lowered her gaze until it was fixed on her own feet that Bonnie suddenly seemed to find very interesting and John thought that it was time for the next question.

"What do you want, Bonnie? Why did you stop by the house?"

"I don't know," she sighed, "I don't know what I want. I guess I just want to talk to her, see if there is something that we still have in common. Clara and I were never thick as thieves. I was always jealous of her because she was the favourite. She was always the good one, always the smart one, she had the right friends, she got the good grades. I hated her as a teenager."

"What changed?" John wanted to know and Bonnie looked up at him, but she didn't reply. "You went to prison, didn't you?"

"Yes, and I have no intention of going back," she said harshly right before her features softened again. Bonnie granted him that look, that grateful look she had already given him during the fight with Clara. "You came to talk to me before, you know. Grandma told you about me before she told Clara about it. You said you should be the one to tell her."

"What did I say?" he enquired curiously.

Bonnie smiled weakly. "You said that Clara had given you a second chance at life and that that was something everyone deserved. You offered me money, but I refused."

John reached into the inside pocket of his coat and drew out the envelope that he had pocketed this morning when he had started to consider paying Bonnie a visit. It had to be for her.

"I don't think I was going to take no for an answer," he said and handed her the letter, "I had this on me the day I had the accident. Couldn't figure out who it was for, but I think it's meant for you."

Reluctantly Bonnie took the letter from him and opened it. John watched while she read it and eventually her gaze shifted towards the cheque.

Her head shot up. "I can't accept that."

"Yes and you will," John told her, "I can't promise you that Clara will accept you back after everything that has happened, but you're still family. And you deserve a fresh start with a little more furniture than this."

John gestured towards the folding table and eventually Bonnie sighed.

"Will you talk to Clara?" she asked after a moment.

"Not right now," he shook his head, "No, I don't think she'd listen to anyone right now."

"It's kind of your fault," Bonnie shrugged, "You kissed me."

John glowered at her in response.

"Okay, yes, I shouldn't have pretended to be Clara," she admitted, "It was kinda cute how nervous you were about kissing her though. But, please, don't ever kiss me again. One time was more than enough."

"Agreed," John said and rose to his feet. He reached for his cane and started making his way towards the door when Bonnie spoke again.

"Thank you, John," she said sincerely, "Clara is really lucky to have you."

He raised his eyebrows at her across the room. "Lucky to have a husband that doesn't remember her?"

"Yeah, but that's the thing. She should be a stranger to you and here you are, cooking for her, making an effort, taking care of her criminal sister because she's family."

"I made a promise," he said simply, giving a light shrug of his shoulders. He had married her even though he didn't remember doing so. "I have a duty of care."