Chapter Text
John was no therapist.
Nor was he a psychologist, psychiatrist, or any of the sort.
Sure, working as a doctor meant that he’d have such colleagues at the hospital, and regular conversations with them led to him obtaining some basic knowledge of the methods they used.
They never talked about cases in detail – like priests with confessions, they had to keep those things between themselves and the patient, the third part only being God.
Health is a fragile thing.
Both physical and mental health need to be taken care of, and that fact was slowly beginning to get accepted.
Thankfully, more and more people felt brave enough to seek help. On the less fortunate side, the waiting rooms have become a bit overcrowded, and sometimes there’d be cases when patients had to come back another day.
John supposed that is what happened when a man came begging him to listen.
He was no therapist but listen he could.
That is exactly why they were now sitting in his doctor’s office, the man slouched in his chair and expression hidden.
John took the job seriously.
He sat up straight, holding a pen in one hand and having a notepad on his lap.
“I feel like I’m going crazy…”
The man rasped.
John clicked the pen, beginning to write “What makes you say that?”
“I see ‘em everywhere…”
“’Them’?”
The man looked up at him with a startled expression “Them! Everywhere! In inns, in the alleyways, in the restrooms of pubs or restaurants. If not see them, I hear them!” he cried.
Noted.
“Who are they?”
“Two people… always the same two people…”
“Do you know them?”
“I hear ’em calling each other’s names… I wish I didn’t.”
“What are their names?”
The man let his head drop, the voice caught in his throat.
“Okay… then, when did this all begin?”
“…It all began on a certain rainy day…”
[insert wobbly effect like in cartoons when they remember stuff]
It was indeed raining heavily, as it had been the whole day.
He had to be careful in his line of work in this weather, lest he gets into an accident.
He led the horses to a noble’s estate who called for him to go to the post office.
The young man seemed very gentle, charismatic, his voice pleasant to listen to.
Oh, how he wished he hadn’t heard what he heard though.
Everything was perfectly fine on the way to the post office and back.
Everything was fine when the noble told him to pull the reigns and stop the horses.
They stopped on the side of the road beside a man who was soaking wet from walking in the rain.
He sighed, knowing where this was going. He was going to have the floor and seats dripping wet.
If only just that were the problem.
Halfway back he grew aware of a muffled sound coming from the inside of the carriage.
He shrugged it off.
When it repeated, and a second voice joined in he was sweating like a pig.
They were not just doing what it sounded like they were doing in his carriage.
It was atrocious.
Don’t get him wrong, he didn’t care about those two being in heat, it was not his business. But not in his carriage. His dear carriage getting defiled.
He thought about kicking them out but even he wasn’t as heartless to put them through that much humiliation.
Now he wished he did.
The longer this went on, the bolder they got, apparently, not holding back in calling for each other and not keeping it a secret how much they were enjoying it either.
He felt like crying. He’d have to be the one to clean up, wouldn’t he?
He just wished they’d shut up already.
That’s when he got the idea that he’d just have to make them finish sooner. Taking the more uneven road, hoping that whoever was inside whoever would be jolted and driven further, and that’d tip them over the edge.
He had been correct. Partially.
Because for fuck’s sake they did enjoy it but it wasn’t enough!
He couldn’t believe that all that did was get them to moan louder, and he contemplated jumping off the carriage.
The only thing keeping him sane was that their destination was already in sight.
A few minutes before arrival came the blessed silence but the damage was already done. To his sanity, to his carriage, and probably to that nobleman’s ass too.
The blond was sheepish when he paid him, even more than what the ride cost. So, he was at least somewhat aware, huh.
He shook his head as the other one shamelessly continued to flirt, and the pair made their way into the manor.
Good riddance.
[wobbly effect as we return to the present]
“I understand it must have been a rather unpleasant experience…” John said, “So, since then you’ve seen them on multiple occasions?”
“And they’ve been doing the same thing! I once went to a pub after a hard week to relax me nerves some. After having a couple of drinks with me mates I went to the loo. And there I hear shuffling, and I thought some drunk bastard was just jerking off, it’s not uncommon. But there wasn’t just one person in the stall beside mine. A man can’t even crap in peace now! I noticed there was somebody bloody kneeling on the floor between the legs of another guy! And then he bloody stood up and sat in the other guy’s lap! But that wasn’t the worst. It was that I recognized the voices. The same two horny bastards. I’ve had constipation for a week after that. I didn’t dare to go to the toilet even at home because I’d remember.”
John was still for a few seconds.
How to write all of this down? He attempted to be as vague as possible.
‘patient had been witness of sexual encounter in a pub’s restroom’
“I…see. Go on. Say whatever bothers you.”
“So, some time later I finally managed to calm down and everything went back to normal. Until me wife and I had a fallout, and I was thrown out. Don’t worry we’re back together since then-“
John nodded, scribbling the information down furiously.
“I stayed at an inn for the night. I don’t know what I’ve done for the devil to haunt me constantly. Around midnight, while I was trying to fall asleep, I heard banging coming from the room beside mine. It was not just furniture banging against the wall…”
“Oh my…” John ran a hand through his hair “I’m sorry.”
The man nodded.
“I couldn’t sleep that night. They did a marathon.”
John was not qualified to deal with this. Not in the slightest.
“And then-“
Oh gosh. Here they go again.
“That was only sound until that point. But one evening I was walking home. Went by an alleyway. And there I saw a blond man pressed against the brick wall, his nails scratching at it as if trying to find something to grip onto. His back was arched, shirt pushed up, and pants around his ankles.
And then behind him stood a dark-haired man with a messy ponytail, his clothes on, except his fly was open and he was balls-deep in the blond. That picture burned into me mind. I went to church the next day but even the priest’s blessing and a generous amount of holy water didn’t help erase that memory.”
Wait… a blond noble and a dark-haired man with a ponytail?... please no.
John gulped, dreading to ask the question. He didn’t want to know.
“Now all I hear in me nightmares is that moaning and “Sherly” and “Liam,” said the man, burying his face in his hands.
John prescribed some non-addictive sedatives to the man and some for himself.
It’s been two months since he’s seen that man.
John didn’t expect to find him in front of his office again, smiling brightly this time.
“Dr. Watson! I’m so glad to see you!” he greeted “I’ve come to express my gratitude. You listening to me and the medicine has helped a lot. I haven’t seen them since.” He said with a wide grin, handing John a small bag.
“Please accept this little gift. I know you didn’t take payment but you’ve seriously helped me out. Thanks.”
The man walked away happily with a spring in his step.
John smiled, waving him goodbye before entering his office and putting the gift away.
He gathered his things and went to visit his therapist colleague’s office, whom he booked an appointment with.
[The same day when John talked with the man, he went home exhausted that night]
“Aaaah it’s been such a long day. And that story too… I can’t he’s been doing that.” John shuddered and shook his head, trying to chase away the image that formed in his head.
“Sherlock, I’m ho-“ he called out into the flat when he stepped in, only to stop dead in his tracks.
He only saw Sherlock’s naked back from behind the couch, and pair of legs in the air but it was not hard to piece it all together.
“Ah, John-“ Sherlock straightened up to look at him, his hair a mess, a deep blush going from his cheeks down his neck. “I didn’t…expect you to be back at this time…” he panted.
Clearly.
John stared at him with a deadpan expression.
“John-“
“I’m moving out.”
[In the end, he just stayed at an inn for a week. He avoided the couch like fire though]