There were a few fundamental things to being a doctor that no one mentioned in medical school yet still held true throughout the profession and all of it's many branches. Firstly, a doctor must not write a script for himself. That, and only that, was the reason that John Watson, Army Captain firstly in his mind and doctor second, sat in the waiting room after his meeting with his therapist. It was the only way to procure the drugs that would let him rotate his arm without wanting to shoot something
( ... )
"It's no trouble, Captain Watson," Mycroft replied smoothly, because it wasn't. Nobody had been hurt. "If anything it's rather fortuitous. May I borrow a few moments of your time?"
Of course he may, if Anthea's gentle tap to his forearm was any indication. That's why he had her along: loopholes. She recognised the need to occasionally circumvent modes of programming which would give him away as nonhuman. The wait for a response would have been one. She was less his human keeper (though that was her official role) as she was his human partner, and if he had thought himself capable of feeling such things he might have admitted a terrible fondness for her.
"I have a proposal to make to you. You reserve, of course, the right to say no, but I suspect that you won't want to." He takes a breath, straightening, and offers a smile. He's not terribly good at smiles, mostly they turn out unsettling, but it does rather add to the general air of stuffy government official that he puts off
( ... )
With quite a lot of information floating around his head like storm clouds, each one holding the portent of doom for a variety of reasons, John counts to ten very slowly in his head -- it takes a total of two seconds, however, due to his own ability of time distortion -- and then fixates his eyes not on the android wheeling a very elderly veteran in a different branch of service decorated in almost too many medals to be supported by a sagging chest down the hall just by them, but on the tall man and whom John assumes is his assistant.
"Yes, I'd like to see your credentials," he says after one near false start that he manages to masterfully turn into a small swallow and a shallow cough. He even offers a smile, though it does not cause the creases around his eyes to jump into action. Having them handed over, and going through them as if he understands for even a moment what each means and gives this...this Mycroft Holmes...clearance for, John nods tersely and squares both shoulders despite the blossoming ache in one. "I'm sorry,"
( ... )
Mycroft and Anthea both laugh softly. "A danger to the general public? No, no, Captain. My brother is trying very hard to be a benefit to the general public -- though that's hardly his reasoning, of course. He's not terribly public-spirited. The fact remains that he's succeeding. He's not been at it long but he's done exceedingly well regardless
( ... )
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Of course he may, if Anthea's gentle tap to his forearm was any indication. That's why he had her along: loopholes. She recognised the need to occasionally circumvent modes of programming which would give him away as nonhuman. The wait for a response would have been one. She was less his human keeper (though that was her official role) as she was his human partner, and if he had thought himself capable of feeling such things he might have admitted a terrible fondness for her.
"I have a proposal to make to you. You reserve, of course, the right to say no, but I suspect that you won't want to." He takes a breath, straightening, and offers a smile. He's not terribly good at smiles, mostly they turn out unsettling, but it does rather add to the general air of stuffy government official that he puts off ( ... )
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"Yes, I'd like to see your credentials," he says after one near false start that he manages to masterfully turn into a small swallow and a shallow cough. He even offers a smile, though it does not cause the creases around his eyes to jump into action. Having them handed over, and going through them as if he understands for even a moment what each means and gives this...this Mycroft Holmes...clearance for, John nods tersely and squares both shoulders despite the blossoming ache in one. "I'm sorry," ( ... )
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