Initial Disclosure
John had bought high bond paper at the Ryman's on Baker St. and used Sherlock's printer to print four copies of his CV, or rather his old CV. This was the one that had gotten him into the NATO Medical Officer Exchange at the Mayo Clinic three years ago. John allowed him self to reminisce. It had been the most professionally interesting three months of his medical career. And bloody cold, too. Minnesota in winter? Really? Who goes to Minnesota in the winter? Only Massey, the Canadian, and Lairsen, the Norwegian, could stand the bone chilling cold. John, who had just returned from Iraq two months prior, had wished he had full Arctic gear it was that cold. John's smile at the memory instantly faded as he stretched out the fingers of his left hand to dispel the tremor.
He thought about putting on a jacket and tie but decided against it. It wasn't like he was out to impress. He wasn't a GP. Or, to be more precise, he wasn't only a GP. Besides, his brown corduroy jacket was ancient. John put the copies of his résumé in a manila folder and donned his black coat. Sherlock was in the sitting room staring at the photos of the yellow graffiti from the bank.
"I'm heading out for a bit. Need anything?" Sherlock did not so much as bat an eyelash in response and John did not linger over long waiting for one.
The waiting room at the Aybrook St. Clinic was full when John approached reception. A boy, about four years old, with a very snotty nose, stared at him as he waited. Finally, the receptionist, Elsa, pointed him down the hall toward Dr. Sawyer's office. As he approached the door, a pretty if slightly frazzled looking woman with long blond hair and a lovely smile stepped out to meet him. John wished he had put on the jacket and tie.
Sarah Sawyer was a bit surprised and maybe a little underwhelmed by the applicant she greeted in the hallway. First of all, he was dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt with a cardigan like her grandfather had worn. No tie. And he was older than she expected. Usually, new graduates applied for locem jobs. This guy had to be mid thirties. He could have used a hair cut, too. They shook hands and she offered him coffee which he declined. He seemed reluctant or something. Not nervous, but something else she couldn't put her finger on. Well, this will be quick she thought. Too bad, they really needed somebody. Two somebodies would have been better. They entered her office and he handed her his CV and waited for her to sit down before sitting himself. He had retrieved the CV from a plain manila folder. He had no case or folio. Where had this guy last worked? Sarah started to quickly scan the page, whilst the back of her mind prepared the 'we'll let you know' speech. Half way down she stopped and went back to the top and began reading carefully. John sat in his chair legs crossed with a thoroughly neutral expression on his face. Sarah got to the bottom and started at the top again. She glanced up.
"Just locem work," she said trying to sound casual.
"No, that's fine," he replied. She reached the bottom of the page again and glanced up again.
"Well, you're a bit over qualified," she pushed the hair back behind her ear nervously. He smiled at the compliment as if to say 'thanks for noticing'. She noticed the smile was nice.
"I could always do with the money," another smile. He was quite handsome when he smiled.
"Well, we've got two out on holiday and one's just left to have a baby," John was nodding in agreement looking a bit circumspect.
"Might be a bit mundane for you," Sarah said thinking it best to be honest.
"Ah, no. Mundane's good, sometimes. Mundane ... works," John tried to force a smile. Mundane work was, at least, work. He could almost hear Sherlock's retort in his head. Job. Boring.
Sarah was scanning the CV again, "Says here you're a soldier."
"And a doctor," he replied with a nod.
"Anything else you can do?" Sarah had to ask as she looked down at the list of stellar credentials.
"Learned the clarinet at school." He huffed a small laugh and smiled that smile again. Sarah caught herself.
"Oh, I look forward to it," she joked. She brought him back out to Elsa who helped him settle the employment forms and then showed him the layout of the office. Two days later John Watson arrived promptly at 8:00 am for the day shift at the Aybrook St. Clinic carrying an extra-large coffee, cream, no sugar.
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As dates went, the night had been a disaster beyond measure. Sarah was still wrapped in the blanket from the ambulance as they sat in the cab heading back to her place. At least it wasn't bright orange. They were silent but Sarah held John's hand firmly with both of hers. John was having a bit of trouble focusing, his head was killing him. It took him a second to realize that Sarah was shivering again. With his free hand he pulled the blanket more tightly around of her shoulders. She leaned into him as fresh tears ran silently down her face.
When they arrived at Sarah's flat, John paid the cabbie. He was surprised that Sarah waited for him to do this. He had assumed that she would bolt inside as soon as the wheels stopped. He walked her to her door trying desperately to think of something to say. His quip in the tunnel about their next date seemed incredibly idiotic and even callous right now. He was shite as a civilian, he knew it. The last few months had proven that. He chose this kind of life. He purposely sought it out, but not Sarah. This was incredibly unfair for her. She was literally an innocent bystander caught in the cross fire. John felt vaguely sick at the thought of what had nearly happened tonight all because Sherlock had caught some criminal's attention. Sarah's hands were shaking so he gently took the key and worked the lock for her. He then turned to face her and said the first thing he could think of.
"Sarah, I am so sorry."
Sarah wiped her cheeks and stared into John Watson's eyes. They were a remarkable shade of dark blue. She looked into his eyes for a long moment and then said the first thing that came to her mind.
"You're concussed aren't you?" It wasn't really a question. She pushed open the door and went inside and held the door for John.
"Have a seat," she said pointing toward a kitchen chair. She fumbled in the freezer and came back with ice in a zip-lock bag. She checked the bandage the paramedics had put on the gash on the side of John's head.
"Steri-strips will do." John knew what she was doing. She had dropped into professional mode so she'd know how to behave. He gently caught her hand and looked into her face again.
"I'm sorry. It's OK, it's all over. Let it go," he said gently. Sarah stared back. How did he do that? She was a wreck. It was all she could do to keep from bursting into tears again. John was completely calm. He wasn't forcing or faking calm. This was genuine. He had been this way the whole ride home. Even before that. He was talking to her again except now he was up and moving about her kitchen.
"Here, have a seat. How 'bout some tea? Are you still hungry? I make a mean slice of toast." He was holding up the loaf of bread from her bread box with his shy half-smile. She smiled back.
"I'm starving, actually." She stood up an together they made toast and tea.
/-/-/-/-/-/
John wasn't on the schedule at the surgery for the next 2 days and Sarah was off the day after that. He had called the next evening just to check on her but it was Sarah who broke the ice at work sitting with John to have lunch. That Saturday night they went to the cinema. The following weekend, John took Sarah to Angelo's. Angelo grudgingly provided a candle for the table.
John had been working at the Aybrook St. Clinic for almost a month when the incident happened. One of the workers, a young kid, really, at the construction site across the street managed to shove his arm through a plate-glass window. His mates in a panic carried him into the clinic. Sarah was at reception when they came in, blood spurting from the jagged laceration in the man's arm.
"Get John. Call 999," she ordered Elsa as she led the gory entourage into an exam room. John came in as she was trying to fit a tourniquet. Peter, their resident ear, nose and throat man, was close on his heals.
"Christ," Peter cursed but John got straight to work as if he'd dealt with severed arteries every day, and Sarah realized she knew that he had. Sarah assisted John as Peter treated the swooning, Samaritan construction workers whose knees were buckling at the sight of all the gushing blood. Truth be told, neither Sarah nor Peter had ever seen a bleed like this either. John worked deftly making incisions and clamping off two of the bleeders before the ambulance arrived. He had then ridden with the kid over to UCH. The whole office was amazed that he returned barely an hour later, after a change of clothes, and spent the afternoon giving flu jabs and prescribing amoxicillin to three year-olds with ear infections. He was as calm and relaxed as if nothing had happened.
That Friday afternoon while she and John were enjoying an after work pint Sarah finally asked the question.
"John, why the hell are you doing locem work in my surgery?" John froze his pint half way to his lips.
"You're an experienced surgeon. You're background is all in trauma and emergency medicine. You're damn good if the incident Tuesday was any sign. So why?" It wasn't accusatory, just a reasonable, innocent curiosity. John knew this but he balled his left fist and steeled his face anyway. He took a long pull of his Smithwicks. Sarah had the right to know. They were colleagues. Hell, she was his boss.
"I was deployed to Afghanistan last June. I think I told you I'd been there. A few tours, actually." Sarah nodded suddenly feeling a pang of dread about where this was going.
"Well, I didn't exactly retire from the army." John was purposefully studying his beer.
"I was invalided. I, um, I got shot." John glanced at Sarah's not without trepidation. Sarah's was staring at him agog. He jumped in with the rest of his disclaimers.
"It's fine. I'm OK, really. It, well, it's just ..." He then gave Sarah a clinical description of his injuries similar to the one he had given Mike.
"So there you have it. I'm really not a surgeon anymore," he said factually. "I probably shouldn't have treated that laceration Tuesday. It's just training took over, you know what I mean? And there weren't a lot of options." Another shy smile. Sarah regarded him for a long time then she leaned in and kissed him on the forehead and then on the lips. It was the first time they had kissed in public.
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A/N – I always liked Sarah. Too bad it didn't work out. That part of the tale will be told in a separate Sarah chapter. Hope you liked it. Please read and review.
I don't own any of these characters. There's still over a month to go to 'til Season 3 in the US. It's just my coping mechanism.
Not beta'd or Brit picked.