Title: Breathless
Rating: T
Pairing: Johnlock
Description: John Watson was not unfamiliar to the feeling of being out of breath. Rather, he was quite accustom to it, now more than ever. After all, he did share a flat with the brilliant Sherlock Holmes. And if John had to describe the mastermind of deductions using one word, that word would most certainly be "breathtaking". Johnlock
Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me, but rather, to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and BBC. I'm in no way affiliated with the show and am not making a profit off this story. Written for entertainment purposes only.
Prompt: "Quick, over here!" said the detective as he/she stopped suddenly.
A/N: This was originally written for my English class. The teacher sometimes puts prompts onto the board and when we walk in, we must write a story using the exact sentence she chooses. I wrote this and then was called on to read it aloud. Everyone seemed to enjoy it, though I doubt they understood any of the references. Anyways, this is my first Sherlock fanfic and I'm rather excited about it.
Breathless
Introduction
John Watson was not unfamiliar to the feeling of being out of breath. Rather, he was quite accustom to it, now more than ever. Really, you'd think he'd eventually grow used to the excessive amount of running he did on a daily basis, and yet, so far, it'd only made a minimal difference in his lung capacity. Granted, only six months had passed since he'd met the great Sherlock Holmes and he still had plenty of time to grow used to the current state of his life. Nonetheless, it'd be nice to see some progress sometime soon.
"Quick, over here!" said the detective as he stopped suddenly. John took a brief second to intake a gulp of cool air before once again taking off after his companion. They were far from their apartment, and Dr. Watson in all honesty had no clue where they were. Then again, that didn't matter much. Sherlock had the streets of London memorized and obviously knew exactly what he was doing. As always.
Earlier in the day, he'd made a plethora of complicated deductions regarding the case, as per usual. It hadn't taken long to place a name to the murderer. Really, the most challenging part had been tracking the man down, but John doubted that had been anything but a piece of cake for the world's only Consulting Detective.
The two raced down the street, trying to catch up with the criminal. It reminded John of their first case together. Back when he'd chased after the mess of dark curls and Belstaff coats and brilliant thoughts for the first time. Sherlock, being tall and slender, ran faster than John, but not by too much. With the self-assumed sociopath around him, John's limp went away. Sherlock, of course, had been right; it was psychosomatic, all in his head, just another leftover memory from the war.
He had the tendency to forget about the unimportant things as he ran after his detective. It almost brought to mind the way the taller man cleared out what he considered to be "useless" information from his memory. Knowing Sherlock would need his blogger by his side, John picked up the pace, adrenaline pumping through his veins and a danger craving glint in his more-alive-than-ever-before blue eyes.
Thanks for reading! If things work out as planned, more chapters will be posted soon.
