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jackwabbitFamily Practice
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Rated: PG (Language)
Category: 221B Fic. Gen. John POV and focus.
Series: Probably Pre-Series, but fits anywhere.
Spoilers: A Study in Pink, I suppose.
Summary: Not all doctors are cut from the same cloth, you know.
Word Count: Why, 221 (and ending with a “B” word), of course!
xxx
When I came home, all I wanted was some peace and quiet.
Family practice seemed to fit the bill nicely.
Pinkeye and sore throats seemed like dreams after the literal trauma and drama of wartime medicine.
But today, as I give what seems like my hundredth flu jab of the morning and listen to yet another kid with an earache bellow in the lobby, I can’t help but long for a little excitement.
A laceration would do. Nothing major. Just a little something to keep me occupied so that another doctor could deal with little Jimmy out there. Something other than the same old thing over and over. Just a break in the routine.
I shake my head to derail that train of thought and tell myself that routine is good; that looking for some excitement is what landed me in the middle of nowhere with a bullet wound.
This is better. It’s safer.
I finish up and call in the screamer.
And as the kid writhes enough to prevent a good look in his ears, I sigh.
His mother apologizes, but I wave her off and remind myself that I’ll get used to this. That it’s a valuable service. That somebody’s got to do it.
And maybe, one day, I’ll actually believe that.
Yeah, right.
What a load of bollocks.
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Rated: PG (Language)
Category: 221B Fic. Gen. John POV and focus.
Series: Probably Pre-Series, but fits anywhere.
Spoilers: A Study in Pink, I suppose.
Summary: Not all doctors are cut from the same cloth, you know.
Word Count: Why, 221 (and ending with a “B” word), of course!
xxx
When I came home, all I wanted was some peace and quiet.
Family practice seemed to fit the bill nicely.
Pinkeye and sore throats seemed like dreams after the literal trauma and drama of wartime medicine.
But today, as I give what seems like my hundredth flu jab of the morning and listen to yet another kid with an earache bellow in the lobby, I can’t help but long for a little excitement.
A laceration would do. Nothing major. Just a little something to keep me occupied so that another doctor could deal with little Jimmy out there. Something other than the same old thing over and over. Just a break in the routine.
I shake my head to derail that train of thought and tell myself that routine is good; that looking for some excitement is what landed me in the middle of nowhere with a bullet wound.
This is better. It’s safer.
I finish up and call in the screamer.
And as the kid writhes enough to prevent a good look in his ears, I sigh.
His mother apologizes, but I wave her off and remind myself that I’ll get used to this. That it’s a valuable service. That somebody’s got to do it.
And maybe, one day, I’ll actually believe that.
Yeah, right.
What a load of bollocks.
no subject
Date: Mar. 24th, 2012 01:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Mar. 26th, 2012 12:11 am (UTC)Oh, and thanks! I do so love my drabbles, and I'm glad they actually seem to work.