A Chance To Stay Alive - Johnlock

10) The Hospital

Sherlock awoke next morning to find his warm body pressed up against John's flank. The morning sun was glaring through the curtains and the skinny boy laid there for a minute, listening to his roommate's quiet snores. However just as John had began to stir, Sherlock slipped silently from the bed and pulled on his silk dressing gown, stumbling into the living room where a tray of tea had been left for the two. He flounced into his usual armchair, and stared at the mugs before him, his blue eyes dazed and confused. Was it possible that John Watson actually liked him? That they could even have a life together, maybe even a family? The curly-haired boy shook his head immediately, clearing his mind, and listened to the low footsteps from his friend.
"Morning," John admitted, stifling a yawn as he made his way into the room. Sherlock gave a quick nod, unable to make eye contact. John dumped himself in his usual spot and reached for a mug.
"About last night," he muttered, taking a small sip of tea before watching Sherlock.
"I'm sorry if you weren't comfortable."
Sherlock met his eyes and shook his head reassuringly.
"It was fine, no harm done," he promised reassuringly.
John relaxed slightly and his mouth curled into a small smile. The blonde boy put down his tea cup.
"Good," he muttered.
The two sat in silence for a minute before eventually Sherlock spoke up.
"I've got an appointment today at the hospital, so I'll probably be gone around eleven," he explained quietly.

His roommate watched him with anxious eyes.
"It's not serious is it?"
The curly-haired boy cracked a smile.
"Course not," he lied smoothly.
Sherlock had gotten used to lying by now. It reminded him of their childhood, telling little lies so that Mycroft would get off his back. John gave a small yawn and the blue-eyed boy could feel his roommate staring up at him almost worriedly. At 10:40 Sherlock wrapped himself up in his thick trench-coat and said goodbye to John. He lingered by the door for a minute before stepping out into the bitter cold weather. The boy began a fast-paced walk down the road and noticed suddenly that people across the road had began to stare at him. Hastily, he turned up his coat collar and hurried along. It was only when Sherlock crossed on to the main road when he had heard laughter. Quiet laughter, just a small chuckle from nearby. His cheeks immediately flushed red and he made his way up the stone steps towards the hospital. Then came a shout.
"Faggot!"
Sherlock instantly snapped his head around to find the voice but to his dismay there was nobody there. The curly-haired boy carried on into reception, his brain now a mix of upset and confusion.
"Can I have your name please?" The receptionist, a tanned girl with frizzy black hair, called towards him.
"Oh um Sherlock Holmes," he replied, losing concentration.
"I'm here to see Doctor Ross."
She gave a relaxed smile and leaned back in her chair.
"Go right through to the waiting room."

Sherlock gave a curt nod and followed the receptionists orders, walking into the crammed waiting room. As he entered, a few people glanced up, expecting a doctor to walk in, then looked back down at their magazines and phones. He took a seat furthest to the back and pulled out his phone. Sherlock had two new messages; one from Greg and one from John. Firstly, he opened the one from his roommate.

Sherlock why didn't you tell me?

What. The curly-haired boy's face fell into a sharp frown and he typed back a quick reply. What was going on?

About what? -SH

Reluctantly, he then opened Greg's message, a sickening feeling beginning to grow in his stomach. He didn't understand, and that made him feel stupid.

Sherlock can you please explain what's happening please? There are posters up everywhere and they're getting quite a lot of unwanted attention.

Sherlock stared at the text, his bottom lip beginning to quiver slightly. People around him had started to look now, their faces grey and concerned, but he couldn't help it.
"Mr Holmes Doctor Ross will see you now," a petite nurse called from the doorway towards the boy. Hesitantly, he stood up and followed the nurse out through the door and down through the gleaming white corridor.

Doctor Ross' office was the last room on the floor. The nurse led Sherlock inside and he took a seat in the closest armchair.
"So Mr Holmes...Sherlock," the doctor began.
He had slicked back blonde hair and an aged face. Sherlock sat agitated on his chair, trying to focus on the situation.
"You're here for a cancer screening test I presume?"
The words made Sherlock's body go numb however he managed a small nod.
"Okay," Doctor Ross hummed, flicking through his notes.
"And you've had a bone tumour before I see when you were?"
"Seven," Sherlock finished the sentence.
The man glanced at him for a second before standing up.
"Alright then," he said heavily.
"If you'll follow me."
When the rest was complete, Sherlock filled in a few forms before saying goodbye to Doctor Ross. He paced back down the hallway and signed out at reception. The boy was desperate to get back to Baker Street, he wanted to find out what the hell was happening.

But just as he reached the stone steps outside, he heard a timid voice from afar.
"Sherlock."
Sherlock turned suddenly to see John stood there, he was shaking slightly and his face was red and tear-stained.

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