Sherlock's Daughter

Chapter 9

Sherlock's POV

Today Jessie is going in for surgery, she is acting like she is not nervous. I know she is, but she just like her me. I am pacing the waiting room, people are looking at me like idiots. I don't care that much. John is reading a magazine calm and quiet as if the world was peaceful. I can't take the lack of knowing how Jessie is pulling this off.  She must be doing fine, if I can fake my death, come back and make John pass out, she is just like me after all. Wait! She is just 14 years old, fragile body. I can't take it. I observe people hoping to calm my nerves. 2 people having affairs, both men. 3 recently divorced. Ahh! This is boring. I flop down in a chair next to John. I watch him read his magazine like an idiot. "John how the bloody hell are you calmly sitting here, are you going to read a magazine when your on you deathbed!" I say rather harshly. He sighs and drops his magazine. "Sherlock she is not on her deathbed, and besides when I get die I can trust you to outlive god to have the last word about my death," he jokes picking back up his magazine and reading it. I roll my eyes, doctors are too calm. I fidget in my chair. I have deduced everyone in this room, so now there is absolutely nothing to do. "John Watson and Sherlock Holmes," I hear the doctor call out. "You can go see here now," he says. I jump out my chair, practically running to her room. She is asleep in the bed. I hate the I.V's they stuck into her. I wanted to wake her up and tell her that you are safe and everything is okay, but that would be wrong. So I stand there like and idiot staring at her. John walks in casually, idiot. I check her vitals, good, I look at her leg. They put a cast in it, she picked blue, my favorite color. "Her knee was fully replaced as you know, she will be like this for 6 weeks then we will change to a knee brace then after that she is free," he says. "And since you have Dr. John Watson here you can take her home tonight," he says smiling John. I roll my eyes, good thing my back is facing them. The doctor eventually leaves. "Well John what are you waiting for get a wheelchair," I say impenitently. "Sherlock we can't take her home until 6:30," he explains. "Why not?" I say getting mad. "She can't leave right after surgery, they need time to check her vitals and stuff," he says. Idiots at this place take 3 hours to read a paper with heart rates on it! "Fine," I say rolling my eyes. For the next 3 hours I stayed by Jessie's side. John went to go get food from the hospital cafeteria. I hate hospital food. Finally it's 6:30. We load her up in the wheelchair and roll her out to the cab. She is awake, but she needs help standing up. We head of towards 221b Baker St again. On the way home John and I laugh at Jessie as we watch her nod off a couple of times before she falls asleep, her head resting on my shoulder