So this is basically my first fanfic ever, and therefore also my first one shot. Start with the small things right?
A white flash of light, accompanied by a booming wave of noise flashes through John's vision, as gone as quickly as it came, leaving him blind and deaf. His vision clears quickly, but his hearing doesn't. A heart-wrenching scream comes from his right, muffled, as if hearing it underwater. Te aftershock hits him, and John is thrown backwards off his feet, and he loses his vision again. Then the world about him sharpens, and he manages to focus on the source of the screaming. His friend. Clambering back to his feet, he makes his way quickly towards him, and the overwhelming redness surrounding him. Blood, says the rational part of John's brain says. He realises that the screaming has stopped, replaced only by an erratic whimper, which fades slowly away to nothing. It is his first assignment, and the first time he has seen a friend die.
John sat up abruptly, sweating and panting heavily, his vision a hazy red, the muffled sounds of gunshots still ringing in his ears. He looks about him frantically, shaking his head in an attempt to clear his head. A tall figure stands in the doorway, looking hesitant, on the verge of coming in.
"Sherlock!" He realises, and the figure steps inside cautiously.
"I heard you shouting. Completely interrupted my thinking."
John laughs, albeit a bit shakily.
"Nightmares again?" Sherlock's raised eyebrow is half hidden by his curly hair. John simply nodded, slightly ashamed that, even after this long, he was still affected.
"Want a cuppa?" Sherlock asked out of the blue.
"Urm, yeah, sure." He got up and put on a dressing gown before following his friend downstairs, where he bustled about the kitchen.
"Could you get the milk?" Sherlock asked.
"Why is there a hand in the- never mind." John glanced over, faintly amused. He'd grown used to seeing all the random "experiments" around the flat. Bringing him the milk, John watched his friend take over the role that John himself usually occupied. It was bizarre, but a nice change. Sherlock gave him the cup and they both sat down in their usual comfortable silence.
"John?" Sherlock asked. John looked up from his coffee questioningly.
"Can I ask you a favour?" He looked slightly sheepish. John laughed.
"I wondered what all the niceties were about." Sherlock glanced up at him and grinned.
"Of course." John's face softened into a smile. "Anything for you."
