Drowning- Emsy2624 Theforgoternsecret

Chapter 1

John Watson, had had one of the most boring days of his life- since he met Sherlock of course. But still, dull. Nothing had happened, the know-it-all annoying and yes rather cute detective (it was a simple biological fact, John of course felt no attraction to this robotic man- ESPECIALLY not when he was being so damn irritable) had rushed off leaving John stranded in favour of some bombing on the other side of London. And he had been left in the dust.

"For the last time John you can not come." The frustrated genius had yelled when John walked next to him

"Why?"

"You fidgeted all through the report, so I could- if I wasn't me- of missed something."

"If I say sorry can I come?" John begged his blue eyes wide, he had only fidgeted to stay awake. But no that stubborn Burk had decided that John would just mess something up.

And now John was bored. None of his ex's where up for trying again, and even Mrs Hudson was too busy not being his house keeper to care.

So the ex army doctor went swimming. Really, he regretted it immediately. He hadn't been anywhere near a pool since the pool. Ignoring the chills running down his spine, he jumped into the sparkling turquoise overgrown puddle. Kicking hard, John swam up and down the pool trying to block the inevitable images of the Irish madman, it didn't really work. After ten minuets of mental torture Watson gave up and got him self out of the pool. Towelling and dressing quickly he rushed back to 221b, not quite escaping from that echoing voice.

By lunch he was bored again, after finally washing the scent of chlorine out of his blonde hair he had slumped into his red chair and stared bleakly at his laptop screen. He checked his email. Nothing.

John wondered off and changed into his pyjamas. He checked his blog. No comments. He strolled into the kitchen, ran his finger along the shelf stuffed with jams, hmm? Apricot? No no no. Strawberry?No. Raspberry? Hmmm that would do, making his sandwich he left the kitchen. Back in his chair he checked his computer. No change. And because he wasn't aloud on this recent case he had nothing to write about too. Sighing the blogger ran his hand through his blonde hair, checking his email again, nope, and decided to get an early night. Because honestly he needed one, the bags under his eyes just proved what non-stop violin playing and flashbacks of the war every night would do to a man's sleep. Ignoring his jam sandwich he shuffled to his room, and sat down on the bed. John lay down and faced the wall, he turned over, and turned over again. This was going to be fun. At 3 in the afternoon, he defiantly an early night he wanted, but going to sleep would be hard. He thought as typically he fell asleep.

John was swimming again, the chlorinated blue water pushed against him as he ploughed his way through it. The heavy use of chemicals made his throat burn, but still he dived under. The warm water felt thick, but oddly comforting. Lights that hung from the ceiling, shone through the surface and shone down on his hair, mixing gold and platinum streaks in with its base ashy blonde colour. One word shone in his mind, Surreal. Then reality slammed into his dream as it took a darker twist. John couldn't breath, the chlorine burning his neck set fire to his lungs, twisting upwards he battled the exploding pain in his head and powered up to the surface- which was shrinking away from him. The pain increased. Screaming he fought the ache in his muscles, the bubbles drifted lazily to the surface, taunting him. The doctor began to sink. He NEEDED air, flailing he pawed above him, the light which had once had loving caressed his hair, shone into his eyes. The doctor was blinded, drowning, his heartbeat pounded in his ears like bullets. Flashbacks of the war burst into his head as he began to loose consciousness- guns, screams, blood, pain, panic, death. With his last breath the solider yelled.

John broke through the surface, gulping the harsh cold air he realised two hands where gripping his shoulders. His eyes slowly followed the thin arms up. He found himself drowning again but in a different sense entirely.