A Heart Made of Glass

Normality

"Goodbye, John."

He was just a blur, so high up. Arm raised to his ear, the phones in each of our hands the only line of communication. So far out of reach, so far out of touch. The Great Sherlock Holmes, teetering on the edge of the roof.

"No, don't," was all I could say, begging my friend, my best friend, to stay. I stepped backwards, trying to get a better view of him. We could work things out, figure out everything. All he had to do was step down from the edge.

But he didn't.

He cast the phone away to the side, the line going dead. His arms raised, and then he was falling.

My stomach plummeted, along with my heart.

"SHERLOCK!"

***

"Dr. Watson!"

I jumped, startled out of the memory.

Breathing heavily, I looked around. I wasn't on the side of the road, watching Sherlock Holmes fall. I was in the clinic, white, sterile, examination room around me.

I finally looked up, Sarah glowering at me with a clipboard in hand. Mousy brown hair fell just past her shoulders, hazel eyes sharp with contempt. She pursed her lips, shaking her head before finally saying, "Come on, your patient is ready for the diagnosis."

"Sorry." I scrambled to my feet, grabbing my own clipboard before following her out of the room. We strode for another room, the examination room where the patient was currently being held. Sarah stopped right before the door, giving me an exasperated smile. I nodded to her before letting myself in.

"Ah, Mr. Merriweather," I offered my hand out to the elderly man sitting in front of me. My eyes darted upwards, catching sight of the nurse who was put on the case. The familiar blonde in a green pair of scrubs smiled warmly at me, almost daring me to respond.

Annoyance pooled in my veins but I gave a quick nod.

Of course Sarah had put Mary on this case. My ex-girlfriend of all people. Of. Course.

I continued to talk with my patient, prescribing him the needed medication while avoiding eye contact with Mary as much as possible. When it came time, I ducked out of the room quickly, speeding down the hallway in an attempt to stop her from talking to me. It didn't work.
"John!" She jogged to catch up with me, grabbing my shoulder.

I smiled with all the politeness I could muster, "Hello, Mary."

She stopped, I with her. I didn't particularly want to hear what she had to say but she was determined to still talk.

Mary paused, thinking over her words. Her lips pursed, as they always had when she was thinking. "It's been... a long time since we last talked. Maybe we could grab a drink? Catch up?"

I finally met her gaze, green eyes hopeful. She gave a small smile, and I almost fell for it. Almost fell for the same thing that had hurt me months ago.

No. Not again.

"Sorry, I'm busy tonight." I stepped back, her hand falling off my shoulder.

Hurt flashed over her eyes before she straightened her back. I set my jaw, waiting for whatever insult or jab she would throw my way.

Mary opened her mouth to speak, exhaled sharply, and then snapped her mouth shut again. She spun on her heel and walked away, leaving me alone in the hall.

I glanced around, no one else had gathered in the clinic hallway, no one else had seen that. Good, I would just pretend it didn't happen then.

The sterile stench of bleach wafted close, signaling janitors were coming. I sighed, stuffing my fists into the pockets of the white coat. Why in God's name did Sarah decide to put Mary, of all people, on this patient?