Voice of a Stranger (Johnlock)

The Clinic

"Greg Lestrade." John called out to the busy waiting room, and a tall man with salt and pepper hair stood up, putting weight gingerly on one foot. Beside him, a small woman with curly dark hair wrapped an arm around his waist, supporting his weak side.

John led the pair into an examination room, and Greg eased himself onto the edge of the examination table with a grimace. The younger woman was hovering nearby, looking for a chance to help if he needed it, her expression concerned.

Sitting on a stool with rollers, John flipped the paperwork open. "I'm Dr. Watson. Greg, what seems to be the problem?" It was obviously something involving his right leg, but it was best to get the full story from his patient.

"I was chasing a suspect, and landed badly after climbing a chain link fence. I might have twisted my ankle. Hopefully it's not broken." Greg moved the foot in question, pain instantly tightening his friendly expression.

The young woman gave an exasperated noise, patting Greg's arm. "You wouldn't have been running around dark London streets if it wasn't for that freak spooking the suspect. How many times have I told you to keep him away from the crime scenes?"

Greg rolled his eyes at the complaint, clearly one he'd heard before. "Come on, Sally. You know as well as I do that although Sherlock can cause problems occasionally, we do solve cases quicker when he's involved."

Sherlock? John's attention sharpened when he heard that name. He was dying to ask more questions, but had to keep things professional.

"So, if it's only your leg with an injury, how about you remove your trousers and shoes? I'll just step out while you do that. Be back in a few minutes." John gave a small smile and left the room, closing the door behind him.

It took a second to catch his breath, and John realized his heart was racing a little. It was the excitement of hearing Sherlock's name mentioned after all this time, such a long time of having no way to get in contact. And in the examination room were apparently police officers who worked with the man. What were the chances?

John took some deep breaths to calm his whirling thoughts and centre himself. Walking to the staff room, he got a glass of water and sipped it slowly. The young woman, Sally, clearly didn't like Sherlock, calling him a freak. John chuckled. From his own quick phone conversation with him and the way his hotline co-workers had commented about him, it seemed Sherlock's strange behaviour was the norm.

Knocking gently on the door, John reentered the exam room. Greg was lying back on the exam table, undressed as he had requested. "Great. It seems you are all settled. Would you like your friend to stay for the examination or to step outside?" He didn't want to assume anything. They appeared to be co-workers, but could be in a relationship. Girlfriends and wives usually stayed with their partners.

"Sally, how about you wait outside? Maybe check in with Anderson on things?" Greg instructed her, his tone friendly but firm. A man used to giving orders.

The young woman nodded, leaving the room while pulling out her phone, a sense of urgency and purpose in her movements.

John conducted the exam, asking Greg frequent questions about his medical history as he worked. The ankle was very swollen and tender.

"It appears to be just a severe sprain, so I don't think an X-Ray is needed. We will get you crutches to keep the weight off it and and ankle brace to wear to support the damaged ligaments as it heals. Practice R.I.C.E. with it...Rest, Ice, Compression and Elevation, to get the swelling down." John wrapped a compression bandage around the sore ankle as he spoke, his hands quick and capable. It was a common type of injury, and he ran through the instructions to Greg easily.