The Army Doctor: An Unexpected Case

John Watson and the Nightmare

"Have you found them yet?"

"No- No sire... We have yet to pin point their exact location... But- but we know they're in London!"

"We're in London! It was pretty obvious they were -well- ARE here!"

He approaches the smaller man and stabs him through the stomach and throws him to his pet dogs.

---

"John."

"Yes, Sherlock?"

"John."

"What?"

"Read this."

Sherlock throws a red, gold and green book towards John, he catches it and reads the cover.

"The Hobbit...?"

"Yes, John. Now open to the third last chapter, or any chapter for that matter..."

John complies and opens the book, he reads in silence. "Out loud John. I need to hear what you see..."

John does as instructed, but he stops when he comes across a certain name. "So what? Thorin's got the same name as this guy, doesn't mean anything. This book is seventy-five years old, anyone could name their kids these names," John says.

"Very true Watson, very true..."

"Sorry, did you just call me 'Watson'? What is this? The Victorian era?"

"Yes, I did call you 'Watson'... I thought I might try it out, I don't like it. So, John!"

"Hmmm?"

"Tell me of this Thorin Oakenshield..."

"I've met him, and talked to him the same amount as you have, Sherlock. How could you possibly expect me to know more?"

"Because you are already familiar with him."

"No, I've met him twice, just like you. You were in the same room as me and him, both times!"

Sherlock stands and walks to the kitchen to experiment with human feet. John rolls his eyes and leaves.

John walks for a while and manages to find himself in that bakery again.

"Oh, Master Watson, what can I do you for?" Bofur asks cheerily, as usual. "Ah, nothing actually... I was just wandering and found myself here... Bofur - that is correct, right? - Anyway, I was wondering, seeing as I'm here... Have you ever felt drawn to someone or somewhere? Have you ever felt like you've met someone before, and not just... Not just 'hey, I met you at that function once,' but more of a... More of a 'we know each other, I know it... We've been friends before, but I can't remember you," kind of way...? I'm not making sense, am I?"

"It sounds a bit mixed up, but I get what you're saying... Sort of... But if I do understand, then I have had that feeling. When I met you, actually. I do feel as though we've met before as does the rest of the Company," Bofur agrees.

"Sorry, did you say... Company?"

"Why yes of course, that's what we are. And with you helping us, you're part of the Company, well to me and a few others you are. Thorin doesn't think so..."

"What about Sherlock? Do you consider him...?"

"For some reason, no... I feel like he's a bit of a dragon. You know, a mean person," Bofur explains.

"Yeah, yeah... I see what your saying... Thank you, for talking to me that is."

"My pleasure, Master Watson." Bofur nods his head and John leaves the premises.

---

The day had dragged on, but night had finally fallen. John tossed and turned in his bed, a nightmare causing his unrest, but it was not the sort of nightmare he'd usually have. Instead it was highly unusual, but familiar. It was also in bits and pieces, like a puzzle with the pieces jammed in the wrong way.

~~~

John stood face to face with the lizard, well, it was really a dragon. The dragon Smaug, the chiefest and greatest calamity of this age.

"You think flattery will keep you alive?" The dragon's voice deep, deeper than he deepest ocean. But it sound so... So familiar.

John no longer stands in that room with the giant, red dragon! surrounded by gold. But instead he stood in a home. It seemed so comfortable and felt right. He loomed over someone, and stared at a map, it was torn and beaten. The candle in his hand giving it only a little light.

Now he was standing in a cave, a sword- his sword- pointed at some pale, gangly creature before him.

"I am a Hobbit, from- from the Shire!"

"Hobbitses? We've tried bats and goblins, but we never tried Hobbitses before! Is it soft, is it juicy?"

~~~

John wakes with a gasp, he sits up right and peers into the darkness of his room. He goes over the dream, it seemed so miss-matched... Well what are you going to do? He keeps thinking, those voices, those words, they were all just a little... They were just a little too familiar.

But little did John know that this is the first of many more nightmares to come. And the first of many miss-matched thoughts and feelings.