Heal Me

Chapter Four

My parents made a fuss. They seemed to forget that there were hundreds of other men that had been wounded. Hundreds of other men who needed beds and looking after and peace. They proclaimed loudly to the room I was in that it was a disgrace I had to be sharing the air with these other men. Meanwhile, I kept my head down in shame and embarrassment. 

Mother was frailer and my father looked like he hadn't slept in weeks. That could easily have been the case. Their son had died, and their other son couldn't walk. They had been sent a letter in the post that had told them of Mycroft's death and of my condition. Obviously, they were heartbroken and distraught of our loss of my brother, but I do believe that it was my survival that kept them alive. So, they may have embarrassed me when they arrived, shouting out about my living conditions, but it was only because I was all they had left. And that's nothing to be shameful about.

Once the nurses had tried to explain just how many men they were looking after in this hospital, my parents' faces had grown paler, and they had started to understand that it was in no way possible for me to have my own private recovery room.

They sat by my bedside, still grumbling about my lack of privacy, but it was only half-hearted complaining now. Once they settled down they were just happy to be able to speak to me once again.

"Are you in pain, dear?" My mother eventually asked. From the way she had said it, I could tell the thought of me in constant pain was obviously something she and father had discussed and worried over before seeing me.

I sighed and looked down at my legs, covered by the awful, itchy blanket. "It was a lot worse before." I said. That was all I could give. Of course I was in pain, but why add another burden to my parents' shoulders? So, I bent the truth and avoided telling them about the burning numbness in my thigh.

Mother nodded, and I was glad I had lied. The look of relief on both my parents' faces was almost painful to see. "We're sorry we haven't been down before now." she said.

"No, no, I'm being well looked after here." I nodded, my voice still sounded strange to my own ears. "I think my physiotherapist is leaving for a different hospital, though." I sighed. "So, I'll have another doctor take over. I believe he studied here, from what I heard."

My father nodded. "That's good. He'll help get you back to normality, son."

I smiled weakly. Or at least I tried to. I'm not quite sure if it actually showed. "Yeah." I heard myself say.

"Mr. Holmes?" a nurse came over to me. My father looked up. Usually he was the one addressed as Mr. Holmes, but today it was me who they were asking for.

"Yes?"

"We found an old parting curtain if you still want a more private area." She said, smiling kindly. Nurse Hooper. She was nice and she had taken a liking to me. I could see that it had taken quite some effort to get this parting curtain for me, so while I thought the whole ordeal was unnecessary, I found myself thanking her and letting her put it up around my bed and my parents.

"Oh, that's much better, Will'." My father said to me. I forced another smile onto my face and nodded. 

They mistook my unease for tiredness and looked to each other, signalling with their eyes. "Sherlock, dear, I think we better get back to our hotel room for the night. You look like you could do with a nice sleep."

I just nodded after a moment. "Yeah, okay." I said softly. I wished I was more energetic. That way I could put their minds to rest. I could make them feel happier about leaving me in this hospital. "It was really nice to see both of you." I managed to get out after a moment. I meant it and I hoped they knew it.

My mother gave me a sad, knowing smile and nodded as they stood. "It is wonderful to see you too, Sherlock." She gave my forehead a kiss. My father placed a kiss in the same place, then pulled away. 

"See you soon, son."

I nodded, watching them walk out of the curtain surrounding my bed and out of sight. I waited thirty seconds to make sure they were gone, before I felt tears surface in my eyes. Suddenly I was a lot more grateful about these stupid curtains. Turns out I did need this privacy. 

My shoulders started shaking and I could feel the panic bubbling up in me. This was all so wrong. My brother was dead. I was stuck in this hospital. All alone. The one person who had understood me was gone. My parents had lost a child and everything was wrong, wrong, wrong!

The curtain opened and my hands shot up to hastily wipe at my eyes. 

"I can...come back later?" A young man's voice said. 

"No." I grumbled, embarrassed that someone had seen me crying. I finished drying my eyes and cheeks, then looked up. He was short. Shorter than me. Sandy-blond hair. He couldn't have been too much older than me, but still older. He had fought briefly. He too had been shot. Obviously, he had wanted to keep helping once he had healed. "...Who are you?" I asked.

"I'm your new doctor. John Watson." he said, giving me a kindly smile, but I could feel his eyes taking me in, making sure I was okay after seeing me crying. 

"You're Doctor Watson?" I asked, my voice sounded slightly more nasal than usual due to my crying. All the nurses talked about him. They all thought he was cute and handsome and gentlemanly. I banished my own opinions about his looks to the back of my mind, fearful of my own thoughts.

He nodded and stepped inside, letting the curtain fall shut behind him. He was wearing a light brown v-neck jumper with a green shirt and a tie. Over, he wore a white coat and he clutched a clipboard against his chest. "Yes, I'm John Watson." he repeated, smiling a little in amusement.

I don't know what it was, but something about hearing his name made my heart ache and I wanted to know everything about his man. In one second. I suddenly wanted to know all there was to know about Doctor John H. Watson. I briefly wondered what the 'H' stood for, having seen his name printed on pieces of paper.

"Oh." I heard myself say and I stayed looking up at him.

He hesitated and opened his mouth to speak, but I already knew what he was going to ask.

"Sherlock-"

"Yes, I'm alright. I just had a visit from my parents, that's all." I tried to explain as neutrally as I could.

He took a moment before nodding and graciously letting the conversation fall aside. "Well, anyway. I just thought you might like to meet me. I'm going to be your new physiotherapist. I work a little differently from your previous doctor, but we'll still reach our wanted outcome. We'll get you walking with no hassle in no time."

I, again, couldn't form a proper response. I nodded. "Okay."

He bit his lip and gave me an odd sort of smile that made butterflies appear in my stomach. "I'll be seeing you later today, Sherlock. Try and get some rest." John nodded, before stepping out.

My eyes lingered on where he had been and I frowned, still experiencing the odd feeling the man had brought to me once he had started speaking.