"You're..." "A woman, yes."
"But how?" "I was hoping you could tell me, doctor." Moriarty pulled the covers a little closer and the area around his eyes tightened.
"But you're..." "Yes, I'm a woman." Moriarty growled.
"How?!"
"If I knew, you wouldn't be here, would you?" Attempting to rise, Moriarty went white as fresh linens and slumped back into his chair with a ghostly expression. "... I want you to undo this, Dr. Watson. Now."
"I-I can't!" John blurted, his eyebrows shooting up into his hair. "What am I supposed to do? I prescribe antibiotics and suture some cuts; this is not my division!" Moran was suddenly at his side, squatting impossibly comfortably, and John leaned away from the sniper as much as he could get away with.
"Then could you at least give him a once over? You're a general practitioner now, so you should be able to tell if he's all clear. And how to manage his new... well, parts." John would have laughed if the blond man hadn't been entirely serious. The smile he'd been forming died on his lips and John gawked at him openly; Moran stood up and popped his spine casually. "We'll pay you for your trouble, doctor, and you're discretion."
"My..." Any plans of escape soared out of reach and John managed to get up finally. He paced, muttering to himself and casting long looks at Moriarty's cross face as he tramped back and forth across the carpet. "You must be joking!" He decided. "Why me? This is some kind of trick for Sherlock, isn't it?"
"Ah, yes," Moriarty drawled, "It is! Here's the part where I turn back into a- oh wait! I'm a woman, Doctor Watson! How is any of this beneficial to me?!"
John was at a loss. "Ah..."
"Well?" Moriarty lifted his brows and waited impatiently for John to speak. "Oh, of course! Not a damned thing!"
Careful of Moran, John staggered a few steps to his right, the world teetering in the same direction, and he clutched his head with one hand.
"Sorry, pal," Moran stopped his swaying with a hand on his arm. "I used a larger dose of that tranq than I should have. Couldn't have you getting up en route now, could I?" The American manner shone through again, more so than it had on the street, and John frowned at the unintentional 'pal' added into the sniper's apology.
"Makes sense." John shook away the helping hand and smoothed his jumper, not happy with the wrinkles on one side. He quite liked the jumper, if he had to say so himself.
"Unlike that nasty sweater." In a short moment, Moriarty ruined any good mood John was forming. John stared him –her?- down.
"Thansk for that."
"Any time." John sighed heavily and approached his patient, brushing off his hands.
"Alright, how do you want to do this? Here? A medical office? Do you have the tools I need?"
"Swabs, syringes, forceps, sticks, stethoscopes and such." Moran confirmed, handing John a small paper with a full list. "We prep the residences with most equipment. Just in case."
"And the speculum? The sterilizer?" John demanded, feeling more in his element. "If am supposed to do a full check-up, a pelvic exam is on my list of major procedures to do."
"Excuse me?!" Moriarty sat up, the blanket slipping off one shoulder. "You will not-"
"As a doctor, I cannot force you, but I am duty-bound to inform you that, given your current... state, the exam would be in your best interest." John was quick to justify his choice of procedure, and he kept his distance from the consulting criminal in case he set him off. "With all due respect, I doubt you have much experience with caring for anything besides sticks and stones, and as a female you cannot afford to jeopardize that part of yourself. I've seen proper women do it all the time, and it is not pleasant."
"He has a point, James." "Shut up."
"And if I had a sanitary room, I would be a lot easier. Not to insult your medical area, but I'd feel more comfortable about fiving the physical in the clinic." John held his breath. He knew he was pushing his luck, but everything he had said was entirely valid and giving an unsanitary physical could be potentially fatal. However, he could see that a 'pelvic exam' had creased Moriarty's forehead considerably. "The pelvic exam only takes two minutes... sir."
"Shall I make an appointment with the secretary?" Moran piped up, patting the consulting criminal on the arm. "Or does your clinic take walk-ins?"
"No," John held out his hand, noticing the tremor had passed. "I'll schedule you in myself. It's all in my phone... if you don't mind, that is." Another push, testing the waters. And he resisted the urge to glance at the open doorway as he waited in the heavy silence.
"James?" Moran, surprisingly, still deferred to the man –even if he was a woman.
And Moriarty threw the whole thing out. "Give him his phone. Watch him." His eyes narrowed harshly and, curling up tighter, he watched the sniper pull the device from his pocket and hand it over.
"Don't pull anything funny now, doctor." He warned, "I'd have to hurt you if you did."
"Wouldn't dream of it." John managed to make a cheeky little grin for both criminals to see, pulling the phone from Moran's grasp. He turned it on, frowning to find it completely unlocked, and he pulled up his calendar with an obvious motion. He turned back to Moran, who would undoubtedly be the one getting the criminal there, and offered him the device again. "When is good for you... gentlemen?"
"Gentlemen." Moriarty confirmed.
"Thursday?" Moran typed in the appointment matter-of-factly. "It will give your office time to prepare."
"Much appreciated." Joh shook hands with Moran again, keeping a watch on his sleeve for another syringe, but something bit the back of his neck as he put his phone away. He swatted it like a bug and came away furious.
A tranquilizer dart.
"Fuck's sake..." John groaned, feeling the sniper move in to support his weight. "you cock."
"'Fool you once, shame on me. Fool you twice, shame on you, John." Moran teased, blurring in front of John's eyes.
"Nighty-night, Johnny-boy." Moriarty giggled. "See you on Thursday."
That was the last thing he heard before he fell unconscious.