John is sorely tempted to resign his position at the clinic to avoid any further humiliation. In the last week it has gotten worse.
He feels at a loss as to how his previously nice colleagues might have resorted to posting rude images of him in the office canteen and what might have made someone masturbate into his desk drawer and pee on his work bag. It all seems terribly juvenile but it is still unpleasant and makes him feel very uncomfortable.
John knows he shouldn't let it get to him, it is stupid, childish, below him to react to it, and yet it still seems to hurt. He never thought it would be this uncomfortable to be the focus of everyone's cruel jokes but then again he had always been well liked. Somehow even in his most awkward teenage years he had managed to make good friends and stay in favour with the popular crowd even if he was not one of them. This kind of systematic cruelty was entirely new to him and for the first time he was able to experience first hand that the phrase 'sticks and stones may break my bones but words can't hurt me' was entirely fallacious.
Still he soldiered on, he worked the hours offered to him even though they dwindled and ignored the cruel jibes from his colleagues. He tried to be relieved that it seemed that the physical attacks at least had gone away, he had seen nothing more of the dark man from the pub bathroom since his release from hospital and if all he had to deal with was nasty comments at work then he would deal with it, without speaking up because Sherlock was worried enough already.
And then it went beyond harsh words. Richard the male nurse who had been one of the front runners in the campaign to put down Dr Watson entered his office unbidden one afternoon between patients looking a little nervous and clenching his fists uncomfortably.
"I have a message for you." He offers and shifts a little from foot to foot. John stands and hobbles around the desk on his crutches approaching his colleague.
"Richard what is going on? If he's got to you tell me, we can help." He offers wanting to extend a hand to the young man but unable to do so as he needs both to hold the crutches which support him.
"I'm supposed to tell you that you're doing it all wrong. That you are supposed to tell your boyfriend what is going on." Richard says and steps forward with steely resolve hitting John forcefully across the cheek, sending him flying backwards and onto the floor where he lands in a heap of limbs and crutches.
"Richard, please don't" John pleads as the young man's boot impacts with his chest making him gasp.
"He says he'll kill my son, I'm sorry Dr Watson, but you're not as important as him." The young man argues as he lands another fierce kick to John's chest. "If I do this he will help us disappear. I have to keep Simon safe." He offers as he continues the assault and hearing that John nods weakly. He understands… and he knows that Richard won't kill him, he is just out to hurt him enough that he won't be able to hide it. John is beginning to recognise the pattern now.
"Please avoid my head, I've had enough concussions." He pleads and Richard laughs slightly.
"Ok, I'm sorry about this Dr Watson" he offers as his boot impacts again avoiding John's head as promised but impacting harshly with his side. John doesn't fight the beating. He knows Richard isn't doing it on purpose and he tries to shut his mind off from the pain as his boot impacts time after time with his chest and back. Eventually it stops and Richard mumbles another soft "I'm sorry" after leaving the room and John curled up on the floor gasping for air and wondering how the hell to deal with this latest challenge.
He is very grateful that Richard agreed to spare his head as it allows him to stay vaguely focused and he is able to struggle to his feet, or rather foot as he is still in a cast and supporting himself on crutches. It makes moving harder but he is able to hobble painfully out of his office to find Dr Hogg. His new boss does not look surprised to see John in his battered state, gasping and wheezing as he supports himself on the metal sticks which are holding him upright.
"You don't look all that well Doctor Watson" he observes and John holds back a chuckle.
"I've had enough" he informs "I quit, you can take me off the rotation." He coughs uncomfortably and then turns to leave the office fighting not to show his emotions and wondering how on earth he will keep his flatmate from having a freakout when he sees him in this state, and also how he will be able to pay the rent long term now that he no longer has a job to sustain him.
Fourty minutes later he arrives home and struggles up the stairs with more discomfort than usual. It is hard to keep upright enough not to jostle his bruised ribs while on the crutches and he suspects that the pain lines across his forehead may grow permanent at the rate he is going. Still he tries to temper his discomfort to handle Sherlock's inevitable reaction when he tells him what has happened. He really doesn't want to but he knows that it will be impossible to hide either his physical pain or the lack of work from Sherlock for any length of time.
Indeed he is barely through the door before Sherlock looks up from his book with a worried frown. "What happened John?" he asks as he crosses their living room and clasps John's face in his hands. That first slap must have left a bruise, John muses as Sherlock's fingers ghost across his face brushing gently across his cheek.
"He got to my colleagues" John wheezes breathing as shallowly as possible. "I lost my job and got beat up, sorry rent might be a problem." He gasps as he feels Sherlock's arms gently guiding him to the sofa and removing his shirt.
Sherlock's fingers grow more forceful as he prods John checking for injury. John stifles a groan as his bruised ribs are examined and a hand pushes against his sore abdomen. Pain flares through his chest as Sherlock pokes and prods and for a brief minute John worries that he is about to black out.
"Sherlock don't. That hurts" John complains slouching back against the sofa, moaning and gasping. He looks up to find Sherlock's terrified gaze locked with his own. "I'm ok." He wheezes and Sherlock shakes his head.
"No, you're not, we're going back to the clinic, no arguments." Sherlock orders bringing out his phone.
John starts to protest but Sherlock holds him in place and it hurts too much for him to struggle against Sherlock's gentle restraints. It isn't as though he really minds going back to the clinic, it has been the only place he had felt remotely good in the past month and maybe going back there isn't such a bad idea, especially considering the sharp pain in his stomach as he made his way home.
"What's their names? The colleagues who did this to you?" Sherlock questions while he texts Mycroft to inform him that they will be coming into the clinic again.
"Richard Garner." John answers hesitantly. "I've already called Lestrade on my way home. He said they would try to bring him in. He did say that whoever is doing this would help him and his family disappear so he might be gone already but Lestrade will be doing his best"
Sherlock nods and extends a hand to John to help him stand. Slowly they make their way out of the flat and into a cab.
Lestrade joined them later in the evening looking rather sheepish. "Hello, Sherlock, John… How are you doing?" he offered as he entered the room. Not the same room as before but looking very similar.
"I'm fine." John smiled up at him from his half sitting position on the bed. "Did you manage to get him?" he asked hopefully.
"No, not yet." Lestrade looked down at his feet as he answered. "It would appear that the son has not been in school all week and the wife had resigned her job. My guess is that they are hiding out somewhere. I have reported it and we will keep looking but there is only so much manpower we can spare on a single assault charge." He felt truly sorry for his friend but the facts were that assault charges were not high on the priority list, people got beat up all the time all over London and many of these incidents did not get resolved.
"I understand." John says calmly but Sherlock bounces out of the chair.
"John has a broken knee, three broken ribs and internal bleeding and you tell me that catching this nutcase isn't a priority" Sherlock shouts making both John and Lestrade flinch.
"That doesn't sound like you're fine John." Lestrade mutters.
"He's exaggerating." John sighs "The knee is from before, that isn't Richard's doing. The ribs are just cracked, not broken and while they think my liver may be bleeding a little it is not enough to need surgery, they are just monitoring it. I'll probably be back home again tomorrow."
Sherlock frowns at John but doesn't say anything. Lestrade stays for nearly an hour, informing them on what his team has been able to find out about Richard Garner and his family which isn't much. When John starts to nod off he rises to leave. "I will do my best" he promises as he exits the room heading home to his own bed.