Chapter Text
The Painter
by Ash Winters
Chapter 1
The slamming of the cab door was the sole sound on the rather empty street, echoing about in the early morning silence. There was a light fog and a chill in the air which caused John to pull his coat tighter around himself as he bent his knees so he could reach down just enough to grasp the handle of his luggage. He took a deep breath and stared at the looming structure that was partially concealed in fog; he was starting a new life here, away from everything.
He nodded to himself and began walking down the slightly cracked walkway until he reached the creaking metal doors. He entered the large entrance way and looked around. The architect betrayed the age of the building, for it was far from new. Plaster was coming away in chunks in some places and wallpaper was hanging down, the marble floors could do with a polish but he doubted the tenants cared.
"Doctor Watson?"
He turned at the soft, feminine voice that echoed from the direction of the staircase. A young woman stood, fidgeting with her clipboard at the foot of the stairs, chewing on her bottom lip before giving him a small smile.
"Yes, that's me." He said quickly, jolting slightly as he strode forward without his luggage with a hand extended for a surprisingly firm shake.
"I'm Molly Hooper, the psychiatrist you'll be working with. It's nice to meet you."
"Likewise."
Silence fell and they looked awkwardly around. John chuckled slightly before saying, "This place could do with a nice polish, don't you think?"
The light tinkle of a laugh came from beside him as she agreed and he smiled gently at her.
"Shall I show you where you'll be working and living in from now on?"
"Yes, that would be brilliant."
She smiled and gestured towards his abandoned luggage when he went to follow her up the flight of stairs. He chuckled in embarrassment before hurrying to his wheeled luggage bag and followed after her.
"Normally we would use the lift, but it broke down yesterday. I really hope they hire a janitor and caretaker soon, this place really needs it."
He nodded in understanding and followed her up another two flights of stairs before they made their way down an empty hall until they arrived at an office.
"This is where you and I will be working. My room is there," She started, gesturing to a large room with a desk and plush chairs in it, "Your room will be there."
He looked to where she pointed at the opposite end of the room from her office and made his way into the large, incredibly white room with a desk against the wall and a padded hospital cot on the opposite side.
"It's perfect." He said, a thrill tickling inside him over such a drastic change from his previous life.
He waved a hand as if to wave the thoughts away before turning around to where Molly was awkwardly standing with some files in her hands.
"I figured we could go over the main tenants you'll be in charge of. Most of the people who live here will only see you for their yearly check-up, but these three need to be seen weekly. You don't mind going over it right now do you? I figured once I showed you your rooms you'd like to settle in so best get this out of the way, right?"
John smiled and murmured his understanding before the two made their way into Molly's office and settled down on opposite sides of the desk.
"This man here? He's manic depressive so you need to check him over once a week, sometimes daily if he has an episode, for any cuts, bruises or other evidence of self-harm. While I technically decide the medication, we need the doctor to write out the prescriptions and take them to the pharmacy to get them filled, so if you feel he needs to see me due to his medication not working or being too weak, take him to me immediately."
He nodded as he took the folder from her and opened it, studying the picture and notes about the young man. One James Moriarty, Manic Depressive, known to cut himself repeatedly. Has a caretaker named Sebastian Moran who visits him bi-weekly if not more often. Calms him down. He hummed in curiosity as he closed the file and held it in his lap, looking up at the young psychiatrist to continue.
"This woman here isn't really a problem in medical terms, but she has no caretaker and we have none hired for those without so for now you'll double as her caretaker. She has severe Agoraphobia and can't leave her flat without having a mental breakdown. Weekly check on her and get her groceries for her, is that all right with you?"
"Yes. Poor girl." John murmured as he peered at the very attractive woman whom stared out from the file. One Irene Adler, Agoraphobic but otherwise normal, recovering slowly.
"This is the hardest case here." She murmured, chewing her lip as she looked down at the file in her hand. "I tried to be-friend him but he would have none of it sadly. Maybe you'll do better. He has Anti-Social Personality Disorder of the Sociopathic kind and tends to stay inside at all times. He has little interest in human interaction and spends almost all his time painting or reading textbooks. You'll have to check on him bi-weekly for he has a habit of not eating, not sleeping and sometimes drug use on the rare occasion he leaves his room. For the most part he has stopped cocaine and cigarette usage, but sometimes drug paraphernalia is found in his possession. Poor thing was shoved here by his uncaring family and he has no caretaker either, but our security guard tends to fetch him food after he's collapsed and sometimes he can force the man to eat. You have to be both a doctor and a friend to him, as well as a caretaker. He'll be a lot to take care of but I'm looking forward to your future with us."
Molly was still talking but John had tuned her out as he stared into the fierce gaze that peered up at him wisely from the photo in the file. Unruly hair, a harsh expression, porcelain skin. His file was the thickest and full of harsh notes from the previous doctor. The man was beautiful. He shook his head as he realised Molly had been calling him for a minute or so.
"I'm sorry. I was distracted by the large amount of notes in here."
"Oh, ignore them. The previous doctor hated his guts and almost killed him. Shall I show you to your room now?" She asked, her eyes shifting to the side showing she didn't really want to talk about her old co-worker.
"That would be great." He said with a smile, following her slim form down the hall and up another flight of stairs until he found himself in an empty, but large, flat.
"I'm just down the hall, two doors to the left if you need anything. Have a good day." She said with a smile before making her way back down to her office.
He sighed and looked around the dim, grungy looking room. He now understood why she had suggested he arrive early the day prior to his first day working. This place needed a good scrub and cleansing. He huffed, placed his luggage in a corner and went to work locating possible cleaning supplies to tidy this flat up.
A smile curved his lips while he was elbow deep in grime as he scrubbed at a window. This was tedious, but he felt more alive now than he had in years and it was wonderful.