Watch Me Play.

|Rewind|22122010|Play|

|Rewind|22122010|Play|

He waits for her that afternoon; hangs around like some kind of ominous cloud outside the building. He probably doesn’t look very ominous, but he feels uncomfortable standing there, on his own and he gets so many strange looks after the second hour of waiting that he decides he should probably leave, (at least for a little while), so he goes to buy a coffee from the cafe round the corner. 

Eventually and after a brief moment of internal conflict ("Go in there." "What if she's not there?" "You won't know if you don't go." "I'm nervous." "You've jumped across roofs, been shot in the shoulder, had an explosive jacket strapped to your chest; John Watson, you get in there now."), he decides to stop hanging around like an unpleasant smell and do something to silence the angel and the devil that seem to be resting on his shoulders.

He tosses his coffee cup into a nearby bin and strides into the hospital, head held high, and his gait still slightly stiff, as it always is when he is placed into situations that have the potential to make him squirm or feel even remotely uncomfortable.

"Hi," he greets the receptionist; someone new, he doesn't recognise him. That shouldn't be a surprise, he hasn't worked at the surgery for well over a year and he knows that the various receptionists come and go, seemingly as they please.

"Hello Sir," the receptionist says with a wide smile, far too wide to possibly be real, "how can I help you? Are you here for an appointment?"

"Um, no, actually I was just- is Sarah in?" John asks, placing both hands flat on the desk in front of him.

"Sarah..." the receptionist looks confused, and John watches him click a few buttons on the computer keyboard.

"Doctor Sawyer," John amends, "Sarah Sawyer. Is she in?"

"Oh!" the receptionist exclaims, "No, sorry sir, it's her day off, were you here for an appointment?"

John stands there for a couple of seconds, fairly certain his mouth is hanging open like some kind of disabled goldfish, but he manages to pull himself together and smiles a strained smile.

"No," he says, sounding slightly more blunt than he intends, "Thanks anyway."

Then he leaves, power walking out of the surgery as if his legs are on fire, not looking behind him once.

-x-

He rings the doorbell straight away, scolding himself for being so stupid the first time. He has already wasted the majority of his morning and he really can't afford to waste anymore time, just in case Sherlock decides to make a sudden appearance back at the flat; an event that is unlikely, yet still remains entirely possible.

Sarah answers almost immediately, face lighting up considerably when she sees him.

"John!" she exclaims, taking them both by surprise when she embraces him in a hug, "what are you doing here?! Come on, get inside and out of the cold."

She opens the door wider, letting him step over the threshold and into her home, shutting it quickly behind him in an attempt to keep the biting December wind outside.

"Your day off!" he blurts out as soon as the door shuts behind him, "you never have days off! Two hours I waited at the practice, hoping you would come out, but when I went in they said you weren't there!"

She bursts out laughing then, and he joins her, feeling any ice that may have been between them melting away as they laugh together.

"I was just about to make some lunch," she says finally, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes, "Nothing fancy, just a salad or something, but I could put some chicken in it. You can eat here if you like."