Chapter Text
The new school year was only a few weeks old, but already Cathy was settled into the familiar routine. The one thing that was different to earlier years was Tuesday afternoon; for some reason her timetable this term was totally clear after lunch, and so Cathy had got in the habit of going home early every Tuesday. When John and Sherlock were both around, they had gone to Regents Park to enjoy the last of the warm weather. Last week on a cool and showery day, Sherlock had gone to Scotland Yard, so Cathy and John took the opportunity to spend the afternoon in bed.
Today, John had sent Cathy a text just after noon to tell her that he and Sherlock were on a case for Lestrade; Sherlock seemed to think it would be solved before dinner, so she was not to cook for them –tonight they would all go to the local Chinese restaurant. Cathy decided that it would be a good opportunity to hit the gym before their usual evening rush, so she went home at lunch time, grabbed her gym gear and spent an hour or so building up a sweat.
Showered and feeling energised, Cathy was working on her lesson plans for the next day when fists started to pound on the front door.
“Hang on, I’m coming” she called, as the pounding started again. As Cathy opened the door, Greg almost fell in the door,
“Greg, they’re not here. I thought they were on a case for you.”
“Yeah, they are, but, Cathy, you need to come with me. They are both going to be fine, but they are on their way to hospital.”
“What! No. What. How. What happened?” Cathy grabbed her handbag and knitting bag and rushed out behind Greg, just pausing to lock the door.
In the car, Greg explained.
“Sherlock was his usual scathing self, complaining that we had called him out for an obvious case, then after he had rattled off all the details of who, how and why, we were standing on the path when a car came around the corning, it seemed to be going a bit fast but not excessive, but then the driver lost control a bit, over corrected. Sherlock seemed to see it coming and pushed John out of the way, but they were both hit for six, as well as one of my constables. Sherlock seems to be the worst hurt, John’s not so bad because Sherlock, well you know how protective Sherlock can be, he just pushed him away. I think half of John’s injuries are from where he hit the wall, but Sherlock, he’s a bit of a mess. They are all in ambulances on their way to hospital. I didn’t want some stranger knocking on your door, so I offered to tell you and take you to see them.”
As he spoke, they pulled up in the emergency vehicles car park and both of them rushed into the emergency department. When the nurse on the reception desk looked up, Greg pulled out his warrant card.
“DI Lestrade and Mrs Watson, we’re here for John Watson, Sherlock Holmes and Ian Davidson.”
“Right, are you relatives?”
“I’m the DI working with them on the case where they were injured. Mrs Watson is Dr Watson’s wife.”
“And Mr Holmes’s sister” interjected Cathy. Greg gave her a strange look, but she glared back, daring him to contradict her.
“Oh, right, so you need to see both of them?” she asked Cathy.
“I do, they are both very precious to me.” Checking her records, the nurse informed them that both John and Sherlock were currently in surgery, as was Greg’s constable, Ian.
“Do you have any idea how long it will be before we can see them?”
“I’m sorry Mrs Watson, it really depends on what the surgeons find when they get them on the table. It could be a while. Maybe you should go along to the cafeteria and grab a cuppa, then find a comfortable seat in the waiting area. The surgeons will talk to you when they come out.”
As they sat down with their cups of tea (Cathy thought about coffee, but it smelled dubious),
“Mr Holmes’ sister?”
“Well he tells everyone that I’m the sister he wishes he had; when we were on our honeymoon we didn’t tell anyone that we were newlyweds, we just told everyone that John and I were married and that my brother, John’s best friend, had come along with us on holidays. It was a lot easier than explaining our relationship. I figured that they would tell us a lot more if I’m a relative.”
They heard footsteps approaching “I assume that you’re my little sister, Cathy.”
“Mycroft! Um, yes, I suppose I am. How did you...”
“When I arrived and informed them that I was Sherlock’s brother, I was told that his sister, Mrs Watson, was in the cafeteria. I assume therefore that you must be my sister too. I wonder if I should tell Mummy? She never knew that she had a daughter.”
“I’m sorry Mycroft, I just thought that if they thought I was his sister, and Sherlock is always saying that I’m like a sister to him, and maybe they might put them both in the same room once they are out of surgery if they think that they are related. It would certainly make it easier for me if I didn’t have to go to two different rooms. Who knows how long they will be in here.” She knew she was babbling.
“The shared room will be arranged provided it is medically practical. You don’t have to stretch the truth Cathy, I will arrange for you and John to be listed with me as Sherlock’s next of kin. That will mean you can visit them whenever you like. Not just for these injuries but for future injuries too. Now, I am sure that we can find a far more comfortable place to wait than that waiting room. Those chairs look as if they could cause permanent spinal damage.”
True to his word, Mycroft made a phone call, and within a few minutes the hospital administration manager came into the cafeteria to conduct them to a nondescript but comfortable room with a TV and half a dozen arm chairs. She left them with the promise that the surgeons would be along as soon as they were finished working on their patients. Cathy sat down and pulled out her knitting, glad that she had thought to bring it; it looked like they could be here a while. Meantime, Greg had spoken to his constable’s family, and with Mycroft’s agreement, had brought them into the room as well. Cathy put her knitting aside as she was introduced to Mr and Mrs Davidson, and murmured assuring words about their son Ian’s recovery.
Mycroft had left just before the Davidsons arrived, but returned about half an hour later, causing Mrs Davidson to startle a little, clearly hoping that he had brought news of their son’s prognosis.
About 5.30pm, a hospital orderly brought in some sandwiches, tea and coffee for them to share.
30 minutes or so later, Mr and Mrs Davidson were relieved to meet Ian’s surgeon and hear that he was in the recovery ward and they would be able to see him in the next half hour. Just as they left, John’s surgeon arrived with similar news. To Cathy’s questions, he replied that John had a broken ankle, cracked ribs, his previously injured shoulder had been broken and he had assorted cuts and bruises. The ankle was presently being put in plaster. The surgery had been to pin the shoulder. John would be in hospital for at least a week or two. Cathy could see him in about half an hour.
Still they waited for news of Sherlock. Finally, just seconds after an orderly arrived to take Cathy to see John, Sherlock’s surgeon arrived. Sherlock had taken the full impact of the car. His leg was badly broken in three places. He had broken ribs and a punctured lung, his arm was broken and collarbone dislocated. Sherlock would be in hospital at least two weeks, maybe three “if they don’t kick him out first” murmured Cathy. Caught unawares, Mycroft smiled for the first time since he had arrived at the hospital.
“Is there any contraindication for my brother, OUR brother to share a room with Dr Watson? Mrs Watson is our sister and quite apart from anything else, it would make her life very much easier if she could visit Sherlock and Dr Watson together. Not to mention that they ARE best friends.”
It was phrased as a question, but no one doubted that it was an instruction, and Cathy was not at all surprised an hour or so later when Sherlock’s bed was wheeled into the room that had been allocated to John.
John looked bad, but Sherlock looked terrible. John had a cast on one leg and bandages around his shoulder and chest. An hour and a half after leaving the operating theatre, he was still groggy but his colour was good and his breathing was even. Sherlock seemed to have more parts bandaged than not. His skin was almost grey, some of the cuts on his face and scalp were stitched and although he was heavily sedated and semi conscious, he seemed to whimper in his sleep. He even seemed smaller, and Cathy couldn’t remember ever seeing him so still. Despite their obvious injuries, the monitors attached to both men were beeping steadily, and the nurses assured Mycroft and Cathy that they were doing ‘as well as could be expected’, and likely to make full recoveries.
“Now, young lady, I am taking you home. You will be no use at all to them or anyone if you don’t get any sleep tonight” said Mycroft firmly.
“You sound just like John talking to Sherlock“she complained but nevertheless, she stood, kissed both John and Sherlock on their foreheads and followed Mycroft out of the room.
After a restless night (who would have thought that it would be so difficult to sleep alone?) Cathy caught a cab to the hospital as soon as she had finished breakfast. Both men seemed far improved since last night. They were both in pain and still had a frightening number of tubes coming out of them, but they were both awake and reasonably alert, enough to greet her with smiles on their faces. After putting their toiletries and clean pyjamas away, hanging their dressing gowns and then a few minutes chatting to them, Cathy had to leave, promising to be back as soon as she could leave school.
Between classes, she went to see the headmistress to tell her about the terrible accident which had befallen her husband and friend.
“Will you need to take time off work?”
“Not at the moment. While they are in hospital, there is nothing really that I can do. Once they get home however, I probably will want to take a week or two off. One has a broken ankle, the other a broken leg, so neither of them will be very mobile for a while. At this stage we don’t even know how long they will be in hospital, yet alone how long they will need home care.”
As soon as she had finished her last class of the day, Cathy caught a cab to the hospital. Usually she walked where ever she wanted to go, but she was starting to think that cabs might be her usual form of transport until John and Sherlock came home. Walking would take far too long.
And so the days fell into a pattern, Cathy would take clean clothes to the hospital and spend 45 minutes or so with them early in the morning. On Thursday she took in their laptops (Mycroft had already provided them with replacement phones). While she was at school, John and Sherlock had doctors’ visits, physiotherapy sessions and tried to stave off boredom. Even though Lestrade had brought in a bundle of cold case files, Sherlock was becoming increasingly irritatable. With his injuries, he couldn’t even play the violin which didn’t diminish his irritation when Cathy wouldn’t bring the instrument to the hospital.
As soon as her classes were over for the day, Cathy would go to the hospital to visit the two friends. They sometimes watched TV (well, John and Cathy watched while Sherlock shouted at it), Cathy would walk with them to the end of the hall and back and while John and Sherlock ate their evening meal, Cathy would take her knitting to the cafeteria. As the evening wore on, Sherlock would usually call for a nurse to walk him around the corridors “So you can do whatever it is that married people want to do. You have ten minutes.” And each evening when she left, Cathy would collect their dirty clothes, give John a careful hug and loving kiss, and then kissed Sherlock on his forehead and left, promising to see them both in the morning.
On the weekend, Cathy went to a sports store to buy tracksuits for both men, for the time when they would be able to do a full physiotherapy session. By now, she had learned to sleep for at least a few hours each night, through sheer exhaustion, even though her mind still raced through “what-if” scenarios.
On Tuesday afternoon, Cathy arrived at the hospital just as John and Sherlock were finishing their lunch.
“Damn, I’d forgotten that today was your early day, I’ve got a physio session in ten minutes. Sherlock, you will have to look after my wife for half an hour or so.”
"Don’t worry so much John, I will be fine. Sherlock might want to read some of his files. Or even have a nap.”
“I don’t like naps; Sleep is such a waste of time.”
“Sherlock, it is only seven days since you suffered major injuries and underwent surgery. Even you need sleep under those circumstances. I’ll just sit here and do some preparation for my classes tomorrow. I’m not a child, I don’t need to be entertained all the time.”
As John hobbled down the corridor, he could hear Sherlock complain “just because I get bored does not mean that I’m a child!”
He smiled, as he heard Cathy reply, “I know that you’re not a child Sherlock. If I was laid up like you, I would be bored too, but I’m not laid up and I don’t need to be entertained.” She really did have the patience of a saint, and John had never known anyone so able to persuade Sherlock to do what they wanted.
For a few minutes, both Sherlock and Cathy were absorbed in their reading, when suddenly Sherlock said
“I did mean what I said, you know”
“Wait... what you said when?”
“At your wedding, I said that when you first met John I was worried that you might be an assassin or a criminal. I didn’t say it but I also thought you might be a gold-digger, because John had inherited all my money, you might be preying on a rich, lonely man. I was quite prepared to hate you when I came back.”
“Oh, I hope you changed your mind.”
“I didn’t want to. I didn’t just expect to hate you, I wanted to hate you. Then you punched me, and I thought that maybe I had misjudged you, you were so angry because I’d hurt John. Then I found out about Sally Donovan, and then you went with us to Blackpool, and once we got over that first night, you were so welcoming, as if having me in John’s life was the best thing that had ever happened to you. No-one had ever treated me as if I was so valuable as a person. Except for John of course. When I walked in on the two of you in bed, I was sure you would never want to see me again, and then you insisted that I had to stay and you had all those logical reasons why it was ideal. You really are as kind as John thinks you are. Even now, with John in hospital because I took him along on a case, you still treat me as your best friend. Lestrade said you even insisted that we should be together so you can visit both of us every day. You really don’t have to do that. If you want me to move out...if you need me to stop taking John on cases. You want to get pregnant, you need your baby’s father to be safe. That doesn’t happen with me around.”
“Sherlock, for a genius, you really can be very foolish at times. John didn’t get hurt because of you. He got hurt because an inexperienced driver was going too fast.”
“But...”
“Sherlock, it happened while you were on a case together, but it equally could have happened outside the supermarket or on his way to the clinic. I DO want to get pregnant in the next few months, and I would like my baby’s father to be safe, but staying home and being wrapped in cotton wool won’t make him safe, it will drive him crazy. I love him beyond belief, I want to spend my life with him, but if I stop him doing the things he does with you, I’ll lose him. Like I said before, I would like him there when our babies are born, I’d like him there for some of the landmark times in their lives too, but if I try to mollycoddle him, he won’t be the man I love, and he will be miserable and resent me for causing it.”
“Cathy Watson, you really are a VERY smart woman. Are you sure you aren’t angry at me?” “Of course not, it’s simply not your fault. The only thing that worries me, you remember you wanted us to get pregnant by March to fit in with the work, well, let’s hope that John is fully recovered by then. I’m not going to be happy if our baby plans get deferred because John isn’t mobile enough. If John tries to get out of his physiotherapy appointments, you have to back me up, and you will NOT insist on him going on cases instead. If he misses his appointments, if he doesn’t get full mobility back, you will find out just how cranky I can be!”