A Study of Soulmates ⦃ A Johnlock Novel ⦄

I ☁ John

They started a month ago. John had absolutely no idea from where they had came. But they did and at any moment, they kept John on the edge of his seat; teeth chattering; body shaking; head hurting. He never knew when they would strike.

But they always had a specific order, searing stomach cramps that made John feel like he was going to throw up, sometimes they brought him to gag. Then it was the headache, normally emerging sometime after the cramps, but the cramps always ended with the headaches. Bloody hell, the headaches, it felt like a hand had reached into his head, grasped his skull to the point he swore that he could feel it breaking under the pressure. Ok, so, maybe John was probably exaggerating.

Everyone he asked, even his doctor, could not offer him any treatment. Everyone he knew without a medical degree said: "John, maybe go see a doctor." But he was a doctor, but maybe he was getting rusty. It had been years since he had been to medical school.

So off, he would go, taking all the advice offered to him and sit his arse into those bleach smelling seats in a hospital, GP office, Specialist office; John had been to everyone; and they all asked the same question. "Have you or have you not met your soulmate?" And every time he would sit in that, usually blue chair, with a poker-face and look like a sad shut in when he said the words: "nope." Which he usually muttered, out of embarrassment, and then had to repeat it a bit louder. All the doctors would then say: "We cannot find the problem as it is not happening to you personally, but rather your soulmate, in order to treat it we need to treat your soulmate."

Essentially, their diagnosis, which, honestly was not even working was: "Go outside and sit in a couple of bars, any place which call to you. You'll find them." Resulting, in John bar hopping every Friday night, rotating around all the pubs near his apartment, hobbling to a new one each week and promptly returning to the first after the first taste of failure. Really, he only went to the first one because the beer was better and he managed to make friends with the bartender. Well actually, more accurately, she made friends with him. Probably pitied him a bit, John didn't blame her honestly: he felt pathetic.

Mary Morstan was quite a slim woman with short bleached hair and round cheeks. Despite her job, she always seemed classy, but at the same time someone you could grab a beer with, even though the only time John ever saw her was when she was handing them to him. You could tell her brains were polished under her warm, welcoming smile and she was smart, but just didn't get into medical school and now worked at a bar to spend her free time. She seemed like she too personable for John, his friends were always the quiet sort. "Honestly John, you look pathetic, take my word for it, have another beer and even flies wouldn't want to be near you."

"Christ, I know," John yawned, rubbing his eyes. "I just feel like the stress of it all is finally getting to me. You met your soulmate yet?"

"Unfortunately yes," Mary sighed, rolling her eyes and placing them back onto John. "It was some random guy I found when I took a trip up to Leeds, horrible place. Anyway, that didn't work out so here I am." She scoffs, placing a hand on her hip as she slides another beer over to John. "What's your sob story then?"

John takes a large gulp of beer, smiling towards Mary politely, with a hint of underlying grumpiness. "Haven't met mine, don't know if I would absolutely detest them, if they will be a romantic soulmate or just a friendship. Couldn't care less, all I know is that they're worse than the common klutz- paracetamol doesn't even work for what rubbish they have!"

"If you ask me your soulmate is a bit of a wad, did the doctors help?" Mary grumbled over the soft mumble of talking and music of the bar.

"They just told me that I should go out more and experience life a bit, but, honestly, I wouldn't even know how to recognise my soulmate when I would see them. How did it feel when you met yours?" John asked as he looked at his beer, knowing his luck they walked past each other already and never saw each other again.

Mary laughed, "I went to the chemist to go get some paracetamol for my headache, when I was in Leeds, and the guy ahead of me in the queue was complaining about the same thing I had, we started talking, grabbed a beer, and well, exchanged numbers so we could stay in touch." Mary paused, presumably reflecting on the past to see if there was any feelings. "I actually didn't feel anything really, we just talked for a bit and got a drink. His sense of humour was brilliant but he was a fucktard, maybe when you meet your soulmate you don't feel anything... Sorry to not be helpful about it John."

"Its fine, I can't imagine how personal talking about your soulmate is." John chuckled, in order to reassure Mary.

Mary seemed to appreciate the gesture, smiling gratefully towards him, before opening her mouth and replying to him. "Its fine, after all, nowhere is it said that you have to like your soulmate." Mary smiled looking at John sarcastically.

John's hand immediately shot up to his temple, drinking with a headache was never a good idea, especially when you started sobering up. Rubbing his forehead in a tired daze, the man stood up reaching in his pocket for his money with his other hand. "I'll call it a night Mary, see you next week." He smiled weakly, setting down some money from his wallet onto the counter top.

"Thanks John, make sure you get some sleep as well, the headache tomorrow will be even worse with a hang over." Mary called, waving as he left the bar, John waved back.

As soon as the man opened the door he was practically hit in the face with the cold London air, he swore that he could even hear the air whistling throughout the narrow streets parallel to the bar. Head pounding severely, feeling dizzy John regretted having that drink at all. By the end of every Friday night he regretted it immediately after. Shuddering, John pulled his coat closer and began the short walk home.

*

John eased down on the couch, hearing the tired faux leather sofa creak under his weight. He decided in that moment that he'd stay up for a bit later, he had no work tomorrow anyway.

A dismissed army doctor, living off an army pension with an injured leg didn't have much of a job anyway. Just weekday shifts at a corner shop till. Didn't earn him much, but John didn't care, he'd much rather be Iraq, fighting the war with his brothers and sisters.

Normal people would have been glad with the time he served, they would have loved being off to relax. John feels like he had not proven himself yet, that he was released before he had a chance to. John craved it, like a child with a sweet tooth craved candies and chocolates. Danger and excitement were his candies and chocolates, John supposed that he had a sweet tooth for danger, for a purpose that made his heart pump.

He let out a frustrated sigh, and turned on the TV with a lazy flick of his wrists and a press of a button on the remote. The aged TV turned on with a slight static hiss, and flickered immediately to the channel he last kept it on. Of course it was the Jeremy Kyle show, John had a secret obsession with it. He found the guests scraped from the dingy gutters or wherever fascinating, especially when you put them in a pit and they tried to defend themselves.

John supposed at the end of the day he watched it to feel better about his sorry excuse of a life. John found himself beyond pathetic.

He watched the two guests squabble over God knows what for a while, but it seemed to make his ear splitting headache even worse.

John decided it then. He tried not to think of a person he never met like that but, he decided that he truly hated his soulmate.

Its not fair John whispered in his head, the words he frequented as a child. The words of a lonely child before running off after danger, seeking adventure and glory. Why should he experience his soulmates pain, and why should his soulmate feel barely any pain whatsoever.

Its not fair.