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( tw ; suicide )
JOHN WATSON HAS BEEN SUICIDAL THREE TIMES IN HIS LIFE .
i. a man returned home from war , from afghanistan , forcibly discharged because of a shot to the shoulder . a raised mark underneath his fingertips , scar a starburst stretched taut across skin . he lives in a lonely little bedsit , just him and the four walls , surviving on only an army pension and nothing more . he goes to therapy once a week , pretends that he's fine , pretends that nothing's the matter . at night , he twists and turns , weeps beneath the cover of darkness , clutches at men he could not save . he wakes and stares at the blank homepage of his blog , pulled up on his laptop , cursor blinking in the line of a new post . nothing ever happens to him . the gun is tucked away in his drawer . sometimes , he contemplates . takes it out , stares , tests the feel of the barrel against his temple . he never goes through with it .
ii . a man , broken , his best friend dead . was there something he could've done ? days are filled with what-ifs , how could yous , fleeting thoughts that this had to be just a cruel joke . he's moved , of course he's moved , baker street holds far too much memories of him . sherlock talks to him , always talking , always a voice at the back of his head . he's back at therapy , but eventually , he stops going . it doesn't help . it never helped in the first place . sherlock still talks , although his voice goes silent whenever john fingers the cold metal of the browning in his drawer . he dreams , of rust red staining the sidewalk , of grey-blue eyes glassed over . this time , he tests the taste of the metal against his tongue . he never goes through with it .
iii . a man , shattered , his entire world crumbling at his feet . mary , sweet mary , his wife , a mother , a liar , she's gone too . he thought he'd found a niche , thought he'd found happiness , that it wouldn't vanish once more right from underneath his fingertips . but no , she's gone , of course she's gone . john never lives an easy life . he should know it by now , he really should , but he keeps hoping and scrabbling for purchase where there is none . rosie's looking more like her mother every day , but she's always staying at a friend's place . he can't even look his own daughter in the face . he drinks . he sees mary . sherlock calls . he declines . he gets a new therapist . he holds the gun in his palm , and it feels heavy . he never goes through with it .
