Overflow Post II
This post is for responding to prompts from prompt posts that are full, or continuing WIPs that were started on prompt posts that have since filled up or are close to full.
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"Yes, yes I know. You can't release any information to me, but I am family. Just- just not by blood, or anything... legal. I live with him though, we're colleagues. I wash his pants for crying out loud! That on its own should warrant me some sort of right to know what the hell is going on. And it's Doctor, by the way, not sir."
"Well Doctor, as I said before, unless you are family, an emergency contact, or his doctor, I cannot give-"
"I am his doctor!"
"Then I am sure Dr. Williams will gladly fill you in once the paperwork has been approved. Now will you please go wait in the waiting room before I call security."
Sod this. Sod all of this. John was going over their heads. He was going over all their heads, and it doesn't matter what anyone has to say because he isn't listening, so there.
"Come on, come on. Pick up you bastard!"
"Ah John."
"Don't you John me, Mycroft Holmes! What bloody hell is going on? The hospital won't tell me because for whatever reason I'm not Sherlock's emergency contact. I deserve to know what's happening Mycroft, so tell me!"
"John, I"
"I just told you, don't John me! I thought after I moved in it was obvious I would take over being his emergency contact it just made sense! I mean we're practically- look will someone please just tell me what's going on? Please?"
"John if you'll just-"
"For God's sake what part of Don't. John. Me, do not understand?
Just please explain-"
"Dr. Watson that is what I'm trying to do! Or at least it was. Clearly this is one conversation we should not have over the phone. I'm on my way to the hospital. I suggest you do as the nurse says; I think she was serious about calling security."
John thinned his lips. Of course Mycroft had seen the altercation. He made his way inside a room designated for people waiting for loved ones in surgery. Like John expected the room wasn't overly busy. There was a young man of about thirty pacing in front of the vending machines while muttering anxiously into his phone, an elderly man was comforting an elderly woman as two small children scribbled 'Get Better Soon Mummy.' on paper by their feet, and finally two blonde haired men closer to John's age were sitting in the corner. One was slumped dead asleep while the other more anxious looking blonde man stared blankly ahead, and continuously twisted his wedding band around.
John dropped into a chair, burying his face into his hands. Why hadn't Sherlock called him? He must not have suspected whatever his plan was would be dangerous; surely he'd have called John if he had thought otherwise. But then again maybe he wouldn't have. The thing was John had no idea. They'd been living together for barely even a year. What did John really know about Sherlock, other than he had a flair for the dramatics, and that John was completely head over- we are not going there, inner monologue. We are so not even approaching there; there doesn't even exist. There will never exist, and everyone knows daydreaming about fantasy lands was a ridiculous notion. A harried looking nurse in surgical scrubs marched through the doors, causing everyone in the room to look up at her with hope in their eyes.
"Holmes. I'm looking for a Victor Holmes?"
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