Skinny Love: A Johnlock Fanfiction

Chapter Four

"Don't let me drown, don't breath alone. No kicks, no pangs, no broken bones." ~'Interlude I' by Alt-J

John

"Why would a clinic specializing in eating disorders be littered with this rubbish?" Sherlock seethed as he flipped through a tabloid. "While you wait for us to nurture your low self-esteem, feel free to look at stick-thin models and celebrity fad diets!" He quipped sarcastically, mimicking the squeaky voice of a nearby receptionist.

John shot a glare at the surly sociopath sitting beside him. It had only been fifteen minutes since John had found Sherlock playing pirate. Since then, the duo was directed to Prime Eating Disorders Clinic on the fifth floor. Sherlock had lost it, attacking the receptionist for "judging him based on his physical appearance and her shallow prejudice".

The onslaught had continued in the elevator, with Sherlock's condescending deductions directed at annoyed strangers. John had to apologize to a burly man "with Mummy issues" in order to save Sherlock from a black eye.

Needless to say, the detective's sour mood had not lessened one bit since they arrived at the clinic.

"Mr. Holmes?" A man appeared in front of them, a friendly grin on his face. John smiled back in relief, quickly standing and shaking his hand enthusiastically.

"Hello! Yes! Hi!" He rambled, grateful to find another human being that didn't look murderous towards them.

The man gave him a quizzical look over. "You're our newest... patient, Mr. Holmes?" He asked skeptically.

John turned a deep shade of red as the humiliation set in. "No... I'm not..."

The man let out an amiable laugh. "Don't worry, mate! I'm just messing with you! I knew the bloke behind you was really the patient," He gave him a wink. "I can always tell who's the problematic one in the relationship."

John drew back, somewhat startled. What the hell was that supposed to mean!?

"I'm Dr. Daniel Redison, by the way," He grinned, "But you both can call me Dan."

"Dr. John Watson," He replied, then gestured behind him. "And this is Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock just grunted, not looking up from the magazine on his lap. John gritted his teeth, his lack of sleep and patience starting to take its toll.

"Be polite, Sherlock!" John barked, ripping the tabloid from his friend's hands.

"No, wait!" Sherlock whined, grabbing for the magazine. "I need to know how Angela overcame her childhood trauma!"

John was about to give his friend a slap when Dan burst into laughter. "Damn, you two are a laugh riot! C'mon, let's get you to my office before this gets domestic."

Dan turned and led them into a corridor, John dragging the fuming Sherlock behind him. They followed the good-natured man into a room with a leather couch, a desk, and a wall-sized window overlooking London. The walls were covered with motivational posters and colorful drawings.

"Please, sit!" Dan said, settling into his desk chair and swiveling to face them. "And let the interrogation begin!"

Sherlock

While John rambled on about something insignificant, Sherlock studied Dan.

Tall-ish. Athletic. Forty-something. A frequent runner. Thinning blond hair and sunburned skin suggests frequently on holiday. Tight khaki trousers and an obnoxiously loud patterned shirt. Effeminate voice and excessive friendliness, especially while talking to John. Most likely...