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John rubbed at his temple as he walked down the corridor. He’d just been getting ready to leave the hospital after an eighteen hour shift when his colleague had stuck his head around John’s office door.
“How many have we got coming in?” John asked, glancing to his left where Dr Thomas Harrison was pacing along beside him.
“Eight in urgent need of attention, and then a further nine that are in need of treatment but can wait,” Thomas replied, sighing frustratedly. “I’m sorry that I had to ask you to stay, John. I know you’ve already been here for way longer than we’re supposed to be.”
“It’s fine,” John replied, waving him off. “Who else is here? Have we got enough of us to cover the eight urgent cases?”
“Richard, Analise, and Jim are all scrubbing up as we speak, Scarlinsky is on her way in, and we’ve sent a few of the interns to find the slackers on the wards.”
John snorted. “Alright. Where’s my shadow?”
“Who have you got today?”
Shrugging, John grinned. “I have no idea. I keep giving them the slip. Alfie, I think? Maybe?”
Thomas laughed. “You’re a bad boy, Johnny. Hit up the nurses desk on the way around and ask them to send out a call for you. We’ve got thirteen minutes until the first ambulance is due in.”
“Sure, sure. You know, if they were better at shadowing, I wouldn’t have to try and find them,” John replied, with a mock scowl.
“Uh huh, and the fact that you literally hide from them on a regular basis is totally their fault, right?”
“Obviously,” John replied, affably, making Thomas laugh again.
“Ah, Watson, Harrison. Have we got an ETA?” Dr Richard Hubbard asked, as the two entered the ambulance prep area.
“First on in, ah, twelve minutes,” Thomas confirmed, nodding his head as he checked his watch.
“Hey, Rosie?” John called towards the nearby nurses station. “Can you put out a call to my shadow? I’ve lost him.”
“Again? You’re a bloody nightmare, John Watson!”
“Yeah, yeah, tell me something new, why don’t you?” John replied, smirking at her.
She rolled her eyes and waved him off. As the rest of the surgeons, residents, interns and nurses gathered, John scrubbed back up quickly.
“Dr Watson?”
“Ah, Alfie, there you are. Where were you—actually, you know what, never mind that. Find Andrew Carlise and tell him to scrub up because I need him, and then find Discay, Murrey, and Achard as well, please.”
Alfie nodded, turning on his heel and heading back the way he’d come.
“Why do you always get the best techs?” Dr Analise Conway asked, nudging his side.
“They know how I work, and I haven’t got the energy for breaking in new ones,” John replied, smiling slightly. “It also helps that I don’t instantly want to kill any of them on sight when I’ve already been working for eighteen hours.”
Analise laughed. “Point to Watson.”
“Alright, the first ambulance is pulling in,” Thomas shouted, getting everyone’s attention. “The rest of them will be following on within minutes.”
“Dr Watson, everyone you requested is in the Surgical room, prepped and ready,” Alfie said, appearing at John’s side once more.
“Alright, I’ll take the second ambulance then,” John said, nodding to Richard, who was pulling away the first.
The second patient was fetched in less than two minutes later, and was transferred carefully from the gurney to the hospital bed. John’s eyes widened.
“Was anyone else from the police car injured?” he asked, as he nodded to Alfie to lead the way with the bed.
“No, just minor injuries,” the paramedic offered. “You know him?”
“Yeah. Give me the rundown?”
John listened to the list with growing horror as he took in the broken figure of Gregory Lestrade. This was one surgery that had to go well. He wouldn’t lose his old friend on the table.
…
John scrubbed down quietly, thankful that he was done. It had been a little hit and miss for a while, but he was fairly certain that Greg would recover without any complications.
“How did you get on?” Thomas asked, when John walked back down to the nurses station of A&E and found him already there.
“It went well, he’ll recover, god willing,” John replied. “You?”
“Fine,” Thomas replied, with a small smile. “You’re heading out?”
“I am, unless you need me to stay?”
“Nah, you’re good, mate. Head on out, I’ll see you on Tuesday. Get some sleep.”
“Alright. Later, Tom.”
John had nearly cleared the door when his name was called out. He turned around to see Sally Donovan staring at him with wide eyes.
“Oh. You were with Lestrade?” he asked, pausing by the doors for her to catch up.
“Yeah. They said that the surgery went well though,” she replied, wiping at her forehead absently.
“I know. I was the one who operated on him,” John informed her, quietly. “He should be alright, Donovan. As long as he does as the doctors tell him, at any rate.”
“Thank you, Dr Watson, for saving him.”
John smiled slightly. “It’s my job, Sally. But, for whatever it’s worth, you’re welcome.”
“How’ve you been?” she asked.
“Fine, fine. Keeping busy, you know?”
She nodded. She hesitated for a moment and then said, “He’s not the same without you, you know?”
John sighed. “I’d really rather not discuss him, if it’s all the same to you. Honestly, I’m ready to go home, to bed, I’m beat. It was good to see you, Donovan. Tell Greg I hope he’s feeling better soon.”
“I will. You should come and see him when you’re next in.”
John nodded vaguely and with a brief wave, he hopped into one of the waiting cabs at the front of the hospital and gave over his address. The only thing he wanted right now was his bed.
…
John arrived twenty minutes early for his shift the following Tuesday, making his way up to the recovery ward. He wanted to see how Greg was getting on, and he knew that it would likely be rude if he didn’t take a minute to go and see him personally.
“Dr Watson?”
“Oh. Michelle. You’re my shadow today?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay. I’m just heading up to the recovery unit to check in on a patient, but I’ll be down in the cafeteria in about twenty minutes if you just want to meet me down there.”
“Yes, sir,” Michelle replied respectfully, bowing her head slightly.
John chuckled to himself as he left. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the newest batch of interns, but his first shadow upon returning to accident and emergency had spoiled him for all others.
Elena Mendez had been sassy, cheeky, and highly competent. He’d been so proud of her when she’d finished her studies and qualified for her residency, but he missed her something fierce whenever the new interns arrived.
They were all so meek and polite and well behaved.
So boring.
Dull.
Shaking the thought—and the voice it had been said in—away, John pushed open the doors of the recovery unit, his eyes moving over the board holding the patients names and their bed spaces. Lestrade was in the furthest bed on the right, and John wandered over, smiling when he saw that Greg was sitting up in bed, Donovan sitting in the visitor’s chair.
“Hey,” John greeted, offering a grin. “How are you feeling?”
“Glad to be alive,” Greg replied, holding out his hand to shake John’s. “And I hear that I have you to thank for that?”
“Ahh, it’s all in a day’s work, mate.”
“It’s good to see you, John, how’ve you been?”
“I’m good. Busy, but good. How is NSY?”
“Same old, I suppose. Getting back into the swing of having Sherlock around again.”
John’s stomach tightened slightly at the mention of his once best friend, but he just nodded thoughtfully.
“That’s good,” he murmured, picking up the chart at the end of the bed to give it a quick once over. They fell into a slightly awkward silence before Greg cleared his throat.
“He’s not the same, you know? Since he came back, I mean. He’s… quiet. Withdrawn. Almost… diminished. It’s weird.”
“He was away from everyone he knew for almost three years,” John pointed out. “I’m not surprised that he’s changed. Anyone would, I should think.”
John was rather proud of how even his tone sounded as he spoke, when his insides were practically screaming to get away from the conversation topic. It was a subject he avoided whenever possible, even inside his own mind.
“Have you seen him at all?”
“No. Well. I mean, I saw him when he first came back, obviously. But not since then, no.”
“You should try and talk to him, John. I’m fairly sure that you’re what’s missing for him, at the moment,” Greg implored.
John shook his head. “I can’t. I should go. I’ve got to go and pick up my shadow before my shift starts. I hope you’re feeling better soon, Greg.”
“John… I’m sorry, mate. I know how hard it was on you after… I’ll leave it alone, alright? We should go for a pint when I get out of here.”
John offered him a tight smile. “You’ve got my number. Give me a call, okay?”
“Sure, sure.”
…
“Oi, Watson!”
John turned around to see Tom and Analise standing by the nurses station.
“What do you two reprobates want?” he asked, walking over to them.
“We’re going for a drink when we’re done here, you in?” Analise asked, smirking slightly.
“Why not?” John replied. He handed over the chart he’d been working on to the waiting Rosie with a small smile. “I’ve got to run up to the recovery unit though, before I go, because Andrew can’t be arsed to do his job. I shouldn’t be too long though. Twenty minutes?”
“We’ll wait. Jim and Sarah are going to meet us at the bar, as well.”
John smirked at the mention of Sarah Scarlinsky, making Tom roll his eyes. Tom and Sarah had a… fraught relationship, and it was always amusing to watch them snipe and bitch at each other, especially when every other doctor at the table knew that the two of them would absolutely be going home together at the end of the night.
Chuckling, John waved at them briefly as he turned and made his way back to the recovery unit. Word had some through from Carlise that he didn’t have time to do the post op care for Lestrade, leaving the job in John’s capable hands.
Entering the ward, he walked first to the storage room, grabbed what he needed and handed them off to Michelle, before he returned to Lestrade’s bedside.
“Hey, John, didn’t expect to see you again today,” Greg greeted. He’d been reading the paper, but his eyes had lit up at the prospect of familiar company.
John smiled. “I’m here to check on your stitches and redress your wounds. Dr Carlise would usually be in charge of this, but he’s a lazy ass, so you got the good doctor today.”
Greg laughed. “Must be my lucky day.”
“Must be. Lean back against the bed, mate, I’m going to lower you into a lying position.”
Nodding, Greg did as he was told, and John pressed the button on the side of the bed to lower him down, pulling the sheets back as he did.
“Oh. Uh… I’ll come back.”
John turned sharply to see Sherlock standing by the curtain, his face paling.
“Sherlock. It’s fine. If Greg doesn’t mind you being here while I change his dressings, you can stay.”
Lestrade waved Sherlock into the seat at the side of his bed, looking briefly between John and Sherlock.
John concentrated on being as gentle as he could as he pulled the padded bandage away from Greg’s stomach, eyeing the stitches carefully. They were healing as well as could be expected.
Taking the wipes from Michelle, he cleaned the area gently, pulling carefully at the healing skin.
“You’re healing well,” he confirmed, glancing up to smile at Greg. “The scar shouldn’t be too big, either.”
“That’s good,” Greg replied, grinning cheekily. “Wouldn’t wanna take a woman to bed with the fear that I’ll be looking like Frankenstein’s Monster.”
“Oh, you’re stunning,” John replied, rolling his eyes with a smile as he competently redressed the area.
“Dr Watson! What have I told you about flirting with the patients?”
John turned his head, smiling widely when he caught sight of the speaker. He snapped his gloves off and disposed of them before he raised his arm to greet the newcomer with a one-armed hug.
“Hiya, gorgeous, what are you doing here?”
“I came to see you, duh. I’m so horribly infatuated with you, I just can’t seem to stay away.”
“Must be my spectacular good looks,” John replied, with a put upon sigh. “It’s so hard being this pretty.”
“Hmm, I’m thinking that it might be your sparkling personality that keeps me coming back for more.”
John laughed. Turning to Lestrade, who was watching the banter with unconcealed amusement, John said, “This is Elena Mendez. She was my first shadow when I came back to A&E. Elena, Gregory Lestrade, Detective Inspector at New Scotland Yard.”
“Nice to meet you,” Elena said, with a small smile. John saw her eyes glance at Sherlock.
He hesitated for a moment, and then turned slightly, gesturing to Sherlock. “And this is Sherlock Holmes.”
“Oh. Oh. Your…”
“Yes. That one.”
“I see. Interesting. Nice to meet you too then,” she added, nodding to Sherlock. Turning back to John, her eyes twinkling mischievously, she said, “I’ve just been informed by the mighty Dr Conway that you’re playing out this evening. Thought I might tag along.”
“Oh, Christ. If you get arrested, I’m not bailing you out.”
“Bah. That was one time!”
“Mhm. Sure. Get gone, I’ll meet you downstairs with the others in ten minutes.”
“Aye-aye, Cap-I-Tan!”
She saluted him, turned on her heel, and marched from the ward. John shook his head after her, amused, before he turned back to Greg.
“You want to sit back up for a while?”
When he nodded, John adjusted the bed.
“She’s certainly a character,” Lestrade commented.
“Oh, she’s that,” John agreed. “Right, you’re all set, mate. Should probably be Dr Carlise coming to check on you tomorrow, but I’ll be around so I’ll nip in and see you if I get a minute.”
“Cheers, John,” Greg replied, quietly, glancing at Sherlock.
John followed his eyes to find Sherlock staring at him like a staving man would a steak.
“John? Have you… can I have a minute?” Sherlock asked, uncertainly. “Please?”
“Ah, sure. I’ve to go to my office, if you want to join me?” John offered, a little awkwardly.
“Of course.”
John offered Greg a final smile before he turned away. “Michelle, you can leave now, if you like,” he added, dismissing his shadow as they left the ward.
“Thank you, Dr Watson.”
John rolled his eyes but carried on walking, listening to Sherlock’s footsteps behind him as he led the way to his office. Neither of them spoke until they were inside, with the door closed.
“John… I… it’s good to see you.”
John nodded silently, leaning back against his desk.
“I miss you, John. I know, I know you said that things can’t go back to the way they were before, and I understand that, but… I miss you like I’d miss a limb. I go out on cases, and I look for you. I’m in the flat, and it’s just so… quiet without you. I go to the morgue, and I expect you to be sitting by the table, watching me, or talking to Molly, or just… I miss you everywhere. You became my foundation, John, and without you, I don’t even know who I am anymore.”
John swallowed hard, Sherlock’s words touching him. It was nice to hear the confirmation that the sentiment between the two of them hadn’t been one way, but it was all just… too late.
“I miss you too,” John replied, quietly. “But it doesn’t change what happened. “You didn’t trust me, Sherlock. No matter what else happened—or didn’t happen—that’s the part that I just can’t get past. You didn’t trust me to keep you safe, to protect you the way I have done since the day I met you.”
Sherlock shook his head. “It was never about trust, John. I trusted you with my life. I still would. It was my turn to save your life, though, don’t you see? It was the only plan left to lose, and if I hadn’t, you would have had a bullet through your brain before any of us had any time to even blink. I couldn’t let you die, John. I couldn’t.”
Sighing, John pushed himself further back so he could sit on the edge of the desk. “I understand that, Sherlock. I’m grateful that you saved my life, truly I am. But… What about afterwards? Mycroft could have told me the truth. A letter. A text… a fucking carrier pigeon. You didn’t have to let me believe the lie for so long.”
Nodding sadly, Sherlock replied, “I get it, John. I know why you’re angry. Honestly, I almost contacted you so many times, but… the mission was dangerous. Probably the most dangerous I’ve ever been on. And… John, I didn’t know if I would make it home. That’s the honest truth. I didn’t know. Would it have been better for me to tell you that I was alive, and then die for real? Would you have had any sort of closure? Would it have been better to go through the pain twice?”
John couldn’t deny that Sherlock had a point. He didn’t know if it would have been better or worse, and he could see Sherlock’s point of view easier now that he wasn’t boiling with rage as he had been.
“I… you’re right, I don’t know what would have been better either. I’m not… actually, I don’t even know how I feel about it anymore. I just… things can’t go back to the way they were before, Sherlock. When you died… Christ, my entire life was over. You were my entire life, do you understand? Everything about me was connected with you, and then you weren’t there anymore, and I was left with less than nothing. If it happened again…”
“Okay. I accept that. Just… please, John. Don’t cut me out of your life completely. Please?”
Hesitating only momentarily, John lifted his arms up, letting Sherlock practically fall into them, his own arms winding tightly around John’s waist as he buried his face against John’s neck.
“I missed you so much.”
Stroking Sherlock’s back comfortingly, John murmured, “I missed you too, Sherlock. I’m glad you’re home.”
It wasn’t fixed, and it wouldn’t be easy, but with Sherlock right there, his face pressed against John’s bare skin, John considered that maybe they could fix this.
Maybe they weren’t completely lost.
Maybe… maybe they’d just taken a detour.