30 Years Can Go By (Sequel to 60 Ways-ParentLock-BBC Sherlock)

Chapter Nine

I really hope you don't hate me after this...

I'm sorry. Don't hate me! I love you!

Comment, vote, and fan me because as you can obviously tell from this, I'm satan and if you don't I'll send all of the evil dead people out of hell to stalk you. You don't want that, do you?

But I seriously am sorry if this caused you any pain.

-BB

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Chapter 9

"Sherlock, your coughing has gotten worse," John notified me, as if I hadn't realized. "You really need to see a doctor."

It was true. For the past few weeks, I had been coughing almost constantly. I would occasionally run out of breath, which was unusual for a sixty-six year old man who kept in shape by running after potential criminals.

Though it was common for me, I had experienced appetite loss more often and it had caused me to lose quite a bit of weight.

But I could take care of all of that by myself.

"What could a doctor do for me?" I asked.

"You'd be surprised. Remember, Sherlock. I almost died for you. I took that bullet, The doctors kept me alive," John felt the need to remind me and added extra emphasis by tapping his upper right chest, where the bullet from Sebastian Moran's gun had injured him.

"You're a doctor, why can't you do it?"

"I'm out of practice, Sherlock. All I can tell you is that you're sick," John said.

I crossed my arms, "I'm fine."

John looked at me sternly, "Don't turn into the kind of old man that won't let anyone help them. You'll get nowhere like that."

"I don't need I get anywhere."

"Yeah, except the doctor's office, which is why I'm making you an appointment for later today," John said, dismissing the subject.

I stayed quiet. I knew there was nothing I could say now to talk him out of this.

***

"I have an appointment for Holmes," I said to the lady at the front window of the Doctor's office.

"Yes, here you are," the lady said, looking down at an appointment book. "Have a seat, the doctor will be right with you."

I looked around the waiting room.

Symptoms of bronchitis...pink eye...a little boy crying because he had a broken ankle...

I sat in the corner, away from all of the diseased people.

Why had John made me come alone?

It was fortunate for me that I didn't have to wait too long.

"Mr. Holmes," the nurse called my name. I stood up with a bit of effort and followed him deeper into the office.

He led me into a room. It was equipped with an uncomfortable bed and a counter topped with medical devices, as you could find in any Doctor's office. "I'm Rory," the nurse introduced himself. "I just need to take your vitals and then the doctor will be in."

I sat still on the bed while he took my temperature and blood pressure.

"Does your temperature normally run a bit high?" Rory asked, looking down at the thermometer.

"No, why? Is there something wrong?" I asked.

"You've got a bit of a fever, but it's no big deal," Rory told me.