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‘Right! So since we last spoke, podsters we have had quite the interesting case involving a mysterious job offer! I know it doesn’t sound that mysterious but it’s really turned out to be quite the globe trotting adventure…’
Footsteps followed by a creak of a door opening cuts through the audio.
‘Sherlock! We’ve talked about this! You know I’m recording, you can’t just barge in whenever you feel like it…’ He takes in his flatmate's dishevelled appearance. He went out this morning in a hurry saying he had to pick something up. Something which he is now clutching to his chest.
‘I bought you something… A gift.’ He nervously hands over the hastily wrapped paper package.
‘Oh? Is it my birthday? You didn’t have to do that! Or, is this your way of apologising for getting goat entrails on the carpet? Because if it happens again I don’t think we'll be able to hide it from Hudsons anymore.’ John shudders. He’s already bought two new rugs to hide the current stains- Mariana is trying to write them off as a business expense.
‘No. It’s not that kind of present. I thought after what you said to the listeners it could be useful to have.’ He shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot.
John is oddly touched by his sudden vulnerability. He grins.
‘Is it a new mic? I know the one I have is functional but it works Sherlock…’ The paper rustles as he unwraps it. ‘It’s a cane…’ His voice falters.
‘It’s collapsible so you don't have to worry about it taking up much room. You can even fit it in your coat pocket; I made sure.’ Sherlock says proudly.
‘I…I don’t know what to say.’ John says quietly. His eyes are hidden as he looks down at the folded cane. He cradles it like it’s something fragile, something he’s scared to disturb; he looks at it like it’s a landmine.
Sherlock panics. ‘You don’t sound happy… Did I do the wrong thing? I did not mean to be insensitive.’
‘No, no it’s actually a very considerate gift, I just…’ He looks at it again trying to put a shape to what he is feeling.
‘Don’t like it?’
‘No! There’s nothing wrong with the cane! It’s just…what it represents...’ He says desperately trying not to offend Sherlock.
Sherlock arches his brow. ‘You worry how you'll be perceived?’
‘Yeah…Since being injured so much has changed… I’ve changed…’ His voice trails off.
‘You now have PTSD you mean.’ Sherlock states matter of factly.
‘Yep, thank you Sherlock.’
‘Happy to clarify.’
‘As I was saying; I’ve changed but it’s not noticeable, not to most people anyway. But having a cane that’s noticeable. People see that and make a judgement from it.’ He looks at the cane again like Sherlock’s handed him a grenade.
‘That you are injured in some way? Why would people knowing that fact about you be so bad?’ Sherlock looks at him with genuine confusion.
‘Because people will treat me differently. They’ll see me as someone to be pitied, and I’m not.. I’m just me. But, it’s hard for people to see beyond that… They see a disability and suddenly it defines you- I’ve seen it so many times as a Doctor… I don’t want it to happen to me. I don’t want others to see me that way; as unabled.’ He struggles to meet his eyes.
‘Having a disability does not mean an inability to do things- a lot of the time it just means additional adjustments are needed. For example; when I wear ear defenders in the CO-OP or sunglasses indoors. For you accommodations may take the form of a cane or breaks from standing. It doesn’t mean you are incapable Watson, quite the opposite.’
‘It’s difficult for me… I know men and women who served and got injured far worse than me. I got off lightly.’ His eyes drift over to a photo framed on his desk; smiling faces look back at him in neat rows. His regiment the day they completed training- before they all went to war.
‘So you feel you haven’t earned the right to alleviate your discomfort?’
‘No! I just feel like I would be making a mountain out of a molehill a bit…’
‘That doesn’t make any sense… How big is the mole in this situation?’
‘What? No! It’s an expression Sherlock! I’d feel like I’m making my injury out to be worse than it actually is. I mean I can still walk! I still have a leg! Which is more than I can say for some of my comrades…’ His eyes return to the photograph; half of the smiling faces never came home.
‘But you’re still in pain.’ Sherlock pleads.
‘So are they.’
‘Your pain doesn’t take away from theirs, nor does theirs away from yours. Pain is pain, why bother comparing?’
‘Because! I don’t want to admit I’m in pain Sherlock… Not to the world… I’m a Doctor! I’m supposed to be the one people go to when they’re in pain… I’m not supposed to be the one struggling...’ He forces down his frustration trying not to choke on it.
‘You’re forgetting one very important fact.’
‘What’s that?’
‘You’re human. No human can exist without pain. Physically, emotionally, psychologically; it is guaranteed. No human can escape it- not even medical Doctors.’
He sighs in defeat. ‘You’re right.’
‘I usually am. Can I ask you something, Watson?’ His gaze falls to the floor.
‘Course, mate. Ask me anything.’ John says reassuringly.
‘You never judge me for wearing ear defenders do you?’ Sherlock asks sheepishly.
‘Of course not! Why the bloody hell would I?’ John erupts.
‘Exactly! You see it as a necessary aid- which it is- to aid me going about day-to-day life. Much like how a cane would aid you in day-to-day life.’ Sherlock smiles righteously.
‘Okay I see what you’re getting at.’
‘You shouldn’t be in discomfort John… I’m sorry I haven’t taken into account that you may have been in the past…’ Memories of the 326 steps at Hampstead Station they climbed during their first case come to his mind. Guilt blooms in his chest.
‘It’s alright mate. Thank you for the cane Sherlock. It was… It is really thoughtful of you.’ John says sincerely.
‘You’re welcome.’
‘I’m just not sure I’m ready to use it yet…’
‘That’s why I got you a collapsible one so you can keep it on you if you change your mind.’
John smiles, of course his friend has thought ahead. ‘Thanks mate.’