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“Did you get that paperwork for Samson in the system?” John asked his veterinary technician who sat at reception on one of the two computers.
“Yep,” Molly said clicking something on the screen with the computer mouse. “Just did.”
“Perfect.” John picked up the folder that sat on the desk by Molly and took it to the room behind reception where they kept all the files of any animal they’ve ever treated, putting Samson’s in the spot it belonged.
“Big plans this weekend?” Molly asked as she turned off the computer she was on.
“Half day tomorrow, remember?” John said as he walked back into the reception area. “Besides, we both know I don’t have a personal life.”
“You know we can manage a few days without you. You’re going to work yourself to death by the time you’re forty.”
“Fingers crossed.”
Molly scoffed, shaking her head.
John smiled. “Thanks for stayin’ late with me Mols. I really appreciate it.”
“You don’t pay me the big bucks for nothing,” Molly said as she stood.
John scoffed.
Molly laughed softly. “Wanna grab something to eat?”
“If we can find somewhere open,” John said as he walked out from behind the reception and took the corridor on the right side of reception, heading to his office.
“What about that little Asian place?” Molly asked as she followed behind her boss.
“Are they open this late?”
Molly stood in the doorway of John’s office, taking out her phone and looking up the restaurant’s hours as John packed his satchel with paperwork and his laptop.
“They literally just closed,” Molly said.
“Damn.”
“The only other option is your favorite greasy treat.”
“I’d rather starve,” John said as he took his coat off the back of his chair and pulled it on.
“It’s not that bad.”
“I’m not eating at any fast-food chain. I can feel my arteries clogging just thinking about it.”
“Looks like you’re going to bed hungry.”
“I’ll find something.” John pulled the strap of his satchel over his shoulder and turned the lights off in his office, walking out as Molly made her way to reception to collect her personal belongings.
“Need me to walk you home?” John asked as he watched Molly put her coat on.
“Drove today. Wanna ride?”
“I’ll pass. No better way to decompress than a late-night stroll.”
“Well, text me when you get home.”
“I can defend myself.”
“Just want to make sure you don’t get distracted by an injured stray and bring it back here with you.”
John scoffed and turned around to leave but his attention was quickly pulled away by a completely disheveled man holding what seemed to be a dog wrapped in a blanket. John took his satchel off, setting it on the ground as he went to the door, unlocking it and opening it.
“He started vomiting blood,” the owner said in a panicked tone. “I-I don’t know what’s wrong he was fine an hour ago and the emergency vet is an hour away and-“
“Has didn’t show any signs?” John asked, cutting the man off and letting him inside.
“Not that I’ve seen. I just got back from a business trip a few hours ago and he’s been with a sitter the last two days.”
John directed the man to lay the dog on the floor. The blood around his mouth and on the blanket, the quick breathing, the swelling in the abdomen and panicked eyes told John the poor dog was in immense pain and ingested something he wasn’t supposed to.
“Molly prep a room,” John said as he pressed gently on the abdomen, hearing the dog let out a soft whimper.
“Already done,” Molly said as she re-entered the waiting room.
“We’ll take him back-“ John was cut off when the dog started gagging and more blood came out of his mouth. “Room?” John asked as he scooped the dog up.
“Three,” Molly responded as she followed after John.
John rushed down the corridor and to the room that Molly prepped. He set the dog down on the table and noticed the x-ray machine was ready for a scan and Molly was ready to do it. Molly deserves a raise.
John turned around to the owner. “How old is he and how much does he weigh?”
“He just turned two last month and about thirty kilos,” the owner said.
“This has never happened before?”
The owner shook his head. “Never.”
“Ready,” Molly said when the machine was warmed up and ready to go.
“Over the abdomen,” John said, taking his coat off and tossing it in the corner of the room as he went to the screen that showed the inside of the dog.
“Stop,” John said when he saw what wasn’t supposed to be inside a dog. “Blockage.”
“Removal?”
“Yep.”
“Surgery?” the owner asked.
“Only way to get whatever he ate out, it’s big and able to cut up his gut and block arteries,” John said as he went to the to where Molly had prepped anesthesia. Molly is getting a raise.
“Don’t worry,” Molly said with a comforting smile, “Dr. Watson has been running this clinic for eleven years. Your dog’s in good hands.”
The owner sniffled and nodded.
“I’m gonna have to have you wait outside,” John said as he took out an electric razor from a drawer. “Contact the pet sitter and see if he ate this under their watch and anything else he got ahold of that he isn’t supposed to have.”
The owner nodded and backed out of the room, watching Molly close the door.
Molly administered the anesthesia as John put on a surgical mask, wash his hands, put on a pair of latex gloves and shaved the dog’s abdomen where the blockage was.
“Is that what I think it is?” Molly asked after thirty minutes when John pulled out the object that was blocking the poor dog’s system.
“A bloody remote,” John said as he set the largest part of the plastic remote on an empty tray that sat beside him. “That means batteries and tiny shards. Fucking hell,” he muttered as he started looking for the missing items.
Two hours later and all the remains were removed and the dog was sutured up John removed his gloves, mask, disposable scrubs and put them all in the hazard bin as he left the room, walking out and seeing the owner sitting in the hallway. The owner instantly stood when the door opened with a face full of fear and worry.
“He’s doing just fine,” John assured the owner, watching him sigh with relief. “Molly’s prepping him to be moved to a recovery kennel where he’ll be monitored for the rest of the night.”
“Can I see him?”
“Not at the moment. I need you to fill out some forms then I’ll let you back to see him.”
The owner nodded, taking a deep breath as he followed the doctor back to the waiting area where the blanket was still lying on the floor. The owner went and picked the blanket up as John went to reception and took out a new patient form.
“Can you throw this out?” the owner asked, holding the blanket.
“Yeah,” John said as he walked out from behind the reception desk and to the owner. “Fill this out,” he said as he swapped the blanket for the clipboard and pen.
The owner went to one of the chairs and sat down while John left the waiting room and went to the corridor to the right of reception, going to the room he was just in and putting the blanket in the hazard bin. He left the room and went to the recovery kennel where Molly had just settled the dog in.
“He should be good for the night,” Molly said as she stood up, turning to John.
“Okay. I’ll clean up the operating room. I’ve got the owner filling out the forms if you want to deal with that.”
Molly nodded and left the room.
John followed behind her and went back to the operating room where he started to clean up the mess from their impromptu surgery.
John went back out to the waiting room once he finished cleaning and saw Molly speaking with the owner, lightening the mood, something she’s always been great at.
“Can I see him?” The owner asked when he spotted the doctor.
John nodded then looked at Molly. “You can head home for the night.”
“Sure?”
“Positive. Go home.”
Molly collected her personal belongings, gave John the forms the owner filled out, said her goodbyes and then walked out of the building.
“This way,” John said as he turned around and led the owner to the recovery kennels where his dog lay peacefully asleep.
The owner went straight to the kennel, sitting in front of it. John normally didn’t let anyone but staff in the recovery kennels but this man would freak out if he didn’t get to see his dog. John took a seat next to the owner, looking at the intense stare he was giving his dog.
“What’d he get into?” the owner asked.
“A telly remote.”
The owner looked at John with wide eyes. “Telly remote?”
“My guess is there was something on it that attracted him and led him to chew it up and swallow some pieces.”
“Oh, God.”
“There’s no need to worry now,” John said with a comforting smile. “We got everything out of him. I do have to ask, does he have a typical behavior of eating things he’s not supposed to?”
“No. He’s a good dog, doesn’t eat what he’s not supposed to, on a stable diet and he’s got loads of toys to chew on and the occasional smelly trainer.”
John chuckled. “Typical dog behavior.”
The owner huffed out a laugh, turning his attention back to his dog.
“When he does start to wake you can’t be in here,” John said. “Can’t get him too excited.”
“Okay,” the owner said softly.
John watched the owner watch his dog with careful attention for another few seconds before he put his attention on the clipboard in his lap, reading the dog’s information.
“Redbeard?” John asked, looking at the owner.
“Like the pirate. I was obsessed with pirates as a kid and when I got a red Irish setter I thought the name would be fitting.”
“It certainly is,” John said. People name their pets all kind of crazy things and there are a few that John enjoy and Redbeard is one of them. A name he’s never heard before that fits the dog well.
John continued to look over the papers. “You forgot to sign the back.”
The owner looked at the doctor sitting next to him, offering the clipboard to him. He took it and signed his name then wrote it out and handed John the clipboard back.
“He’ll be just fine, Sherlock,” John said when he read the written name.
“Good technique,” Sherlock said. “Using names to provide more comfort and reassurance.”
“If an owner of freaking out so is their pet.”
“It’s a good thing he’s sleeping then.” Sherlock looked at Redbeard and then looked at John. “I looked you up on the internet.”
“Good things I hope.”
“Not a single bad review. People love you.”
“I really do try my best. All animals deserve the love and care they can get and I’m lucky enough I can give it.”
“You started this practice eleven years ago but you’ve been a vet for almost twenty. You genuinely love all animals and most of the time you don’t get the recognition you deserve but it never bothers you. You’re a doctor but you hold yourself in a more stiff and composed posture than most doctors dream of having, your nails are consistently kept evenly dull, hair cut every two weeks, regularly work out by the state of your trainers and the tan line of your skin and the spot on the back of your neck from your wireless headphones so I’d say a proficient runner with a military background.”
“I worked with bomb dogs in the field,” John said.
“Honorable discharge. Your left shoulder hangs lower now that you’re relaxed.”
“My dog, Posey, ran into enemy territory after an explosion and started digging so I knew something was there and I went in and there was a little girl trapped under the debris. I got her out and when we were making our way back to my unit I got shot and so did Posey. I carried her out and got the girl to safety but Posey didn’t make it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, that’s how it goes. I decided not to go back after that and started working in a regular clinic until I opened this one.”
“You wear three dog tags under your scrubs instead of two.”
“First dog I ever trained so she meant a lot to me. I take dog tags to the next level.”
Sherlock huffed out a laugh.
John gave a closed smile, turning attention to Redbeard.
“You’re bloody brilliant,” John said after a minute of silence, looking at Sherlock.
“That’s not what people normally say.”
”What do they say?”
Sherlock looked at John. “Piss off.”
John laughed softly.
Sherlock smiled fondly at the doctor.
“What else do you know?”
“Your career controls your life. You didn’t give a second thought to staying here tonight and you keep something stashed in your office to sleep on. Your eyes tell a long story of being exhausted and the bags underneath say you haven’t had a decent night's sleep since before you joined the military. You’re a man of war and one hell of a veterinarian. There’s nothing you won’t do for the people you love and every animal you come in contact with and you haven’t eaten since this morning but a single granola bar is hardly a decent breakfast for someone like yourself.”
“Amazing,” John said with a smirk.
“Glad you think so.”
The monitor Redbeard was hooked up to started beeping and John turned his attention to the dog whose eyes were slightly open, his nose was twitching and his tail was slapping against the dog bed he was laying on.
“He knows you’re here,” John said as he stood up.
Sherlock stood up and left, closing the door behind himself.
John got up and washed his hands then grabbed a pair of disposable gloves, putting them on as he walked back to Redbeard’s kennel.
“Alright bud, let’s get this outta ya and we’ll go outside for a bit,” John said as he took out the fluid line that was injected in him and unhooked him from the monitor that was watching his heartbeat.
John helped Redbeard up and out of the kennel, putting a cone on him to keep him from licking at his sutures. John took Redbeard outside and let him relieve himself before taking him back inside. John gave Redbeard something to help him relax and sleep and put him back in his kennel, taking the cone off.
John left the room once Redbeard was asleep, expecting Sherlock to be waiting outside the room but found him in the waiting area sitting in a chair.
“Going to stay the night?” John asked as he leaned against the reception desk.
“Unless you’re going to kick me out.”
“Well, there is only room for one on the cot.”
“You’ve got a cot in your office?”
“A genius like yourself couldn’t figure that out?”
“I was thinking a sleeping bag.”
John chuckled. “I’m gonna pull an all-nighter with Redbeard. He had a lot taken out of him and I just want to be sure nothing bad’ll happen.”
“I guess I’ll be keeping you awake.”
“Well, I’ll be doing paper and computer work so you’re absolutely welcome to watch.” John picked up the satchel he had dropped on the floor earlier and took it to the recovery kennels.
“Can I come in?” Sherlock asked, poking his head in just a bit so only his eyes were showing.
“Yeah. Gave him some medicine to help him sleep and he should be out for the rest of the night.” John took a seat by Redbeard’s kennel, taking his laptop out of his satchel and setting it in his lap then took out a few folders he had put in the bag when he thought he was leaving the clinic.
Sherlock sat across from John, leaning against a cabinet as he watched his dog and the veterinarian that sat by him, working steadily and taking breaks to look at Redbeard to make sure he was still alive and breathing.
John finished his work and tucked it all back into his satchel, relaxing as he looked at Sherlock who was watching him.
“Entertaining?” John asked.
“Eighty-three words per minute,” Sherlock said. “Impressive.”
John huffed out a laugh. “Of course, you’d be able to tell.”
Sherlock chuckled, smiling fondly at the veterinarian.
“What do you do for work?” John asked. “You said you had to go away for a few days.”
“I’m a detective. They sent us to a poor excuse of a mandatory leadership conference.”
“That sounds like loads of fun.”
“Kept myself entertained. During group activities, I would pick the person that was annoying me the most and see how many name tags I could get on them before they or anyone noticed.”
“You didn’t.”
“If they’re going to torture me I might as well have fun.”
“Did anyone catch you?”
“No. It was quite funny to watch someone point out that they had about twenty empty name tags stuck to their back.”
“I’m surprised a room full of detectives couldn’t figure out who did it.”
“Most of them have never solved a case.”
“And let me guess, you’ve solved hundreds.”
“Maybe thousands- they all start to blur together.”
John laughed.
Sherlock gave a closed smile, laughing softly.
“I think I’ll try that next time I go to a conference,” John said. “See if I can get at least thirty on someone.”
“Thirty is a lot.”
“I was in the army if you forgot. Learned how to be quick and nimble.”
“Mmm, right. Never thought of the bomb squad being quick and nimble.”
“Alright you can fuck right off,” John said with an amused smile.
Sherlock laughed.
“What made you want to become a vet?” Sherlock asked.
“You can’t figure that out?”
“It’s just so much easier if you tell me.”
John huffed out a laugh. “I’ve always loved animals and my grandad was a disabled veteran with a service dog and he told me all sorts of stories about the dogs in combat and I decided to combine my love for animals and wanting to join the military. They put me through the courses I needed and then they gave me Posey to train.”
“Did you name her?”
“Yeah, the unit I was in got a litter and they were all siblings so we decided to have a theme name and out of all the things we could’ve chosen we chose nursery rhymes.”
“Thought so.”
“Posey was a good name. Better than Merrily.”
“Merrily?”
“Row, row, row your boat.”
“Seriously?”
“It was a hard name category, okay? We did the best with what we had.”
“You could’ve chosen a different theme.”
“There’s no challenge in that.”
“Suppose you’re right.”
John stood up, stretching his arms above his head and taking a deep breath.
“Coffee?” John asked.
“Please. Thank you.”
“No problem.” John picked up his satchel and walked out of the room.
A few minutes later John came back in holding two cups of coffee and handed one to Sherlock before taking his seat back by Redbeard’s kennel and resuming their conversation.
The two spoke throughout the rest of the night, laughing at jokes and stories they told to pass the time until the morning came and Redbeard woke up. Sherlock left the room while John let Redbeard out of the kennel, putting the cone back on him and taking him outside. John walked back inside with Redbeard, not worrying about a lead since he stayed by John’s side until he spotted his owner and ran to him.
Sherlock sat on the floor, accepting the kisses from his dog as he scratched all over his body, avoiding his underside.
“Let me give you the rundown of post-op care and some antibiotics and then he’s yours to take home,” John said.
Sherlock stood up, following John to an examination room with Redbeard following right behind him.
“Stitches should fall out on their own so don’t get scared when they fall out,” John said as he sat down at the reception desk in front of a computer once he gave Sherlock the post-op care routine and antibiotics. “I want to see him again next week. What works for you?”
“Friday afternoon if you can.”
“I’ve already got someone at the end of the day but you can come in anyways and I’ll get you once I’m done.”
“I can change if it’s too much trouble.”
“I won’t be.” John flashed Sherlock a smile.
“Okay then. I’ll see you Friday afternoon.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
“Thank you so much for everything.”
John smiled. “Of course. Any concerns just give a call.”
“Will do.” Sherlock picked up the small bottle that contained antibiotics and the handwritten list of dos and don’ts by John. “C’mon, Redbeard,” he said then headed for the exit, greeting Molly as she walked in.
“Long night?” she asked as she approached the reception desk.
“Finished all the computer work so a long but productive night.”
“Go home.”
“I’m fine. It’s only a half day.”
“John, go home and sleep in your own bed. You’re not staying here or collapsing from exhaustion or taking a nap in your office. When spring cleaning comes around I’m throwing that cot out.“
“Do that and you’re fired.”
Molly laughed softly. “Go home. Seriously, John, you really will work yourself to death.”
“Fine,” John said as he stood up.
“And only take your necessities.”
“Molly-“
“You’re overworked and clearly exhausted. Go home and sleep and we’ll see you Monday morning. We’ve got everything under control.”
“I need to take-“
“I’ll get your bag and put it in your office.”
Molly turned around when she heard the bell ring which meant the door was opened and smiled at their receptionist that was walking in.
“Sally,” Molly said, “would you be a dear and drive Dr. Watson home? He hasn’t slept in over twenty-four hours.”
“Yeah, of course,” Sally said. “C’mon, Dr. Watson.”
John grabbed his set of keys that were on the desk and made sure he hand his phone in one of his pockets before leaving, following after Sally and getting in her car.
John made it home awake but almost fell asleep in the shower and just made it to his bed before his body shut down and he was fast asleep.
****
“‘Ello, Redbeard,” John said as he got welcomed by the excited dog. “How are we doing?” he asked as he set the clipboard he was holding down on the counter to be able to pet the dog with both hands.
“Good,” Sherlock said. “All the stitches fell out and he’s been eating and drinking and being the normal Redbeard. It’s hard to tell he ate a remote.”
John chuckled. “No problems with him and the cone? Trying to get to the sutures?”
“None but he is definitely ready to get that cone off.”
“I’m sure he is,” John said as he took the cone off of Redbeard. “You’re free, now. Can you get him to lie down?” John asked as he set the cone on the examination table and went to the sink to wash his hands.
Sherlock got Redbeard to lie down as John put on a pair of disposable gloves.
John went to Redbeard, kneeling on the floor beside him and examining the healthy healing wound and fur starting to grow back.
“He is all good.” John took off his gloves and scratched Redbeard’s side before standing up.
Redbeard shot up, shaking the floor dirt off of him.
John threw away his gloves and went to a jar on the counter, reaching in and taking out a dog biscuit. John turned around to see Redbeard already sitting in front of him, staring up at the treat.
John looked at Sherlock. “Any tricks up his sleeves?”
“He likes to give high-fives.”
John got Redbeard to give him a high-five and was shocked and amused when Redbeard got on the ground, rolled over then stood and did a small twirl before sitting in front of John again.
“He also does that,” Sherlock said.
“He’s a very good boy,” John said, giving Redbeard the biscuit and patting his head. John turned around and picked up the clipboard, looking at the paper on it as he leaned against the counter.
“Start mixing the wet food with dry food and giving it to him twice a day like normal. Keep an eye on the wound for any infection signs and that he’s not biting at it.”
“Sounds good. I can’t thank you enough for last week.”
“No problem. It’s what I live for,” John said as he watched Redbeard sit between Sherlock’s legs and rest his chin on his owner’s thighs as Sherlock pet him.
“If you would allow it, I would like to take you out for a coffee,” Sherlock said.
John stood still, observing the man whose cheeks were tinted pink and he nervously pet his dog.
“As a date?” John asked.
“If you want.”
“I would love that.”
Sherlock smiled with relief. “Tomorrow?”
“I’m free after one.”
Sherlock stood. “You have my number.”
“Going through patient files to get a phone number for personal reasons is completely unprofessional.”
“So is letting me stay with you overnight.”
“Touché.”
“If it makes you feel better I can give you my number.”
“Nah, I’m the boss after all. I can do whatever I please.”
Sherlock chuckled. “Text me then?”
“I most certainly will.”
Sherlock gave a shy smile. “Great.”
John returned the smile with a confident one as he opened the door for Sherlock, watching him walk out with Redbeard.