Sherlock (but from a Johnlock POV){ON HOLD}

Part One: A Study In Pink (Prologue)

⚠️Descriptive images of John's nightmare about the war (blood, mentions of death).⚠️

There was fire.

Gunshots. So loud that it hurt to hear. Bullets tearing through the bodies of the enemy, so much blood, so much death.

Crouching in a ditch, mud everywhere, discomfort, countless injuries, blood.

The shouts and screams of people around him, frightful, desperate. Someone yelled his name.

His heart was pounding with adrenaline.

Somewhere, in a tattered old room in London, John Watson woke up with a jolt, sitting up in bed as he stared wide-eyed and panting at the wall in front of him, assuring himself he was back in the present.

Back from the war.

He lowered himself back down onto the pillow, trying to calm his breathing and his racing heart. There were tears in his eyes... how did those get there?

There was no use in calming down anymore, so he moved and sat up on the edge of the bed, his vision slightly blurry from sleep. He switched on the lamp beside the bed, and dim amber light filled the room.

The window beside the bed was half-open, showing that it was still dark out, with gloomy, pale grey clouds that were fitting for London's weather.

John sat there quietly, wrapped up in his own thoughts, staring across to the desk on the other side of the small room. A metal walking cane leaned against it, glaring at the former soldier.

He gave it an unhappy glance, and sighed, rubbing his face with one hand before staring back out into the distance.

He wouldn't be sleeping anymore tonight.

-

   The sun had finally risen.

   John hobbled over to his desk, leaning most of his weight on his cane. He'd needed it ever since an injury he got when he served in the war for a few years.

   He sat down at the desk, setting a cup of tea and an apple on the edge of it, then reached into the desk drawer to retrieve his laptop. He glanced at the pistol he kept with it as he took the computer out, then shut the drawer and opened the laptop.

   John stared at the webpage it had automatically loaded. He never shut it down anymore; it was always on sleep, so he never had to open anything back up. It was easier this way.

   The Personal Blog of Dr. John H. Watson, it read. The rest of the page was blank. He stared at it for a long time, reluctant.

~~~

"So... how's your blog going?"

"Yeah, good." John sat across from his psychotherapist, Ella, in her bright and open office, empty except for them, two chairs across from each other, and the small square table between them. He awkwardly cleared his throat. "Very good."

Ella tilted her head to the side and downwards ever so slightly. "You haven't written a word, have you?" She seemingly absentmindedly scribbled something down on her notepad.

John pointed to it. "You just wrote, 'Still has trust issues.'"

"And you read my writing upside down." Ella gave him a knowing look. "D'you see what I mean?"

John gave an awkward smile that faded quickly.

"John," the therapist began. "You're a soldier, and it's gonna take you a while to adjust to civilian life...and writing a blog about everything that happens to you will honestly help you." She smiled. Warmly.

John stared down at the floor. He looked back up at Ella, his face full of dread and despair. "Nothing ever happens to me."

   Alright! We finished the prologue! I know this was short, but that's because it's the prologue!: The opening clip before the theme song and intro plays!

Thank you for reading it guys, taking time out of your day to comment, vote, and stare at goofy-ahh words on a screen.

Have some cookies to keep you content while you wait for the next chapter: 🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪x100000
Don't worry, they're allergy-free 😉

Whole 'nother chapter coming out soon!

.