Sherlock's Second Vow [FINISHED]

Chapter 29: Checkup

This chapter is also mostly filler and also because I like excuses to write surgery scenes. But also because I thought it is gonna be fluffier and funnier when he can't talk and has to try and communicate with John through Rosie, or writing, or frantic pantomiming. :)

I guess I'll have to updoot more often now that people are actually reading this!

There will be a new chapter by monday I promise!

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29

The next day, after John had gone to drop Rosie off at school, Sherlock left him a note and slipped out of the house. The doctors wanted to see him about the VNS treatment, and Sherlock knew John would probably be all worried and stuff. But he didn't need John to look after him. He would do it himself.

Thankfully, the appointment was at a hospital in London. Although he could easily hail a cab, Sherlock walked the whole way, as it was nearby. It'd been awhile since he'd walked these streets freely and alone.

He'd forgotten how much he missed them. It started to rain lightly, and Sherlock straightened the collar of his jacket. It was almost an unconscious habit, and it always seemed to annoy John the tiniest, funniest bit.

Stop that.

What?

Trying to be all mysterious and everything, with your collar and your cheekbones.

Too soon, Sherlock reached the hospital.

"William Sh... William Holmes." He had four names, so people tended to shorten it. For some reason, everyone seemed to assume he would prefer his first name.

"It's Sherlock, please."

The nurse asked him some boring questions. Did the treatment hurt, was his neck swelling any, was his voice getting better. Yes, no, yes.

Then she had him answer about a thousand questions about his mood and depression, some that even he couldn't guess the purpose of.

She stood up, straightening her papers. "The doctor's going to come in in a minute to look at your stitches."

Sherlock was left alone in the room for a few minutes. He looked around. The usual signs and posters and such, diagrams of things. These rooms were used by multiple patients, nurses and doctors, so there wasn't too much specific deduction to do. Maybe five people had been in before him... the computer was on. Maybe he could guess at the passwords, but they were probably numerical codes.

Ugh.

At least having John here would have been entertaining. Oh well.

The door opened. "Hello Wi--"

"Sherlock." This was getting very tedious very quickly.

"Oh okay, um, hello Sherlock. I need to look at your chest and neck where the pulse disk was implanted."

He shrugged off his coat and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. The redness of the scar was fading, but it still burned when the doctor prodded it with cold gloved hands.

"It's healing well."

Obviously.

The doctor looked under his jaw next, where the second incision had been made. This was a little redder, and hurt a whole lot worse when it was touched. He almost punched the doctor, having to remember at the last second that no, he wasn't being attacked.

However, he couldn't help taking a sharp breath through his teeth.

"Hurts that bad?"

Sherlock did not dignify this with an answer.

Unfortunately, because the cut hurt worse the doctor had to poke it more, to try and figure out where and why. His neck was starting to hurt, too, from holding his head at this angle.

"One the electrodes might've been too loose, one of them seems to have slipped."

"So you need me to come back to get it fixed."

"Well... we can do it now. It hasn't been a very busy day."

"Fine."

The doctor led Sherlock to another room, with a cold padded chair. The nurse arrived shortly after, with the surgical tools on a little tray. The first to be used was a needle filled with colorless liquid -- a local anesthetic-- which had to be injected into his neck.

Ow. He was really starting to get pissed off.

The anesthetic, though, wasn't quite strong enough to block all the pain when the doctor swabbed his neck and then positioned the scalpel.

He hissed in pain again as the wound opened. The doctor paused to swab up the blood. Out of the corner of his eye, Sherlock could see three blood-soaked tissues tossed back onto the tray.

There was then a painful fifteen minute period of needles and tweezer poking and prodding inside his neck. First, the misplaced electrode had to be found and dug and scraped out, then a new one had to be connected to his now very sore vagus nerve.

He was relieved when the doctor sewed him up, gave him an ice pack, and let him go. The pulse disk had been paused during the operation, but now it was back on, and the pulses hurt worse than ever. He took a cab straight back to John's house.

John was not especially happy to see him.

"Where in the bloody hell did you go?"