He'd just locked himself in the cage, his hand flying over his mouth to stop himself from breathing too loudly. Captain John Hamish Watson, Army Doctor of Her Majesties Military, was scared like a five year old. John had seen hell before, he'd lived through Afghanistan, getting shot and shipped home, a killer cabbie, murderous Chinese Mafia, and a psychotic genius strapping a bomb to his chest and letting his snipers use him for target practice. He didn't worry, didn't get scared, and didn't even bat an eyelash [not including the blinking S.O.S that John had tried to get across to Sherlock in The Pool].
This… this scared him. It terrified him. John had never mentioned his fear of dogs to Sherlock for the simple reason that he knew Sherlock would delete the information. He sort of wished he had.
He remembered everything about what had happened. He and Harry were 5, still living with their parents out in the country. This was before he knew how much of an alcoholic his father was or that his mother had breast cancer. This was before Harry knew that she liked girls instead of boys and before John knew that he wanted to be a Doctor and help save people's lives, but also be a soldier and help protect his country.
Harry and John were walking back home from a friend's house who lived just down the road a ways. It had gotten late while they were playing and the two Watson's hadn't realized that they were going to miss dinner if they didn't head home soon. It was late in the fall, so it had already gotten a bit darker outside then either of the two would have wanted, but they borrowed an electric torch to guide themselves home. It was on their way home that it had happened.
There had been stories going around about a dog that was wondering around town that didn't have an owner and might have rabies. John and Harry had played it off, not really believing it… but it had been true.
"I bet mum's made pot roast tonight, she had onions in her bag after getting back from the groceries." Harry stated; one of her hands in her pocket while the other held up the torch to light their way. John smiled.
"She had potatoes too. I hope she mashed them." He smiled at his older twin sister, his arms up, hands laced comfortably behind his head as they walked down the beaten road. John was laughing a bit but noticed instantly when Harry stopped walking next to him. He stopped as well and looked to her. "Harry?" He asked, concerned. Harry was shaking; her free hand came up and started pointing in front of them. There stood the rabid dog. It was some sort of a mutt, a fairly large size and shaggy black fur covered it. The thing had foam around its mouth and was growling. John didn't even think about what might happen to himself, he moved in front of Harry.
"J-John?" she asked, her voice quivering.
"Listen to me Harry… you go back to Mrs. Davenport's, you understand me? Go back there and call mum. You need to run Harry… don't stop till you get there." Harry gave her brother a scared look before turning and quickly running back the way that they'd come. The dog caught the movement and lunged towards them. John stood in the way of the dog getting near his quickly retreating sister. The dog was vicious; it latched onto John's right thigh and bit down hard. John screamed, knowing that he was bleeding. With all the strength that the five year old had, he brought both arms up above his head and then slammed them down into the dog's head. John heard the thing yelp as it let go of his leg and backed away. John was shaking, he knew that if the dog came after him again it would probably go for his throat… and he knew he wouldn't be able to stop it. "Please God, let me live." John whispered out, hoping that someone; somewhere had heard his prayer.
The dog took another moment or two to get it's bearings from the blow to the head, having caused it to go through a loop. When it finally got its senses back it looked back around and saw John there, shaking and bleeding. The dog growled, baring its teeth to the child that had caused it harm. It was about to lunge again when a loud shot was heard.
Harry had run all the way back to the Davenport's home and quickly told them what was happening. Mr. Davenport, as soon as he knew what was going on, had run to his room and grabbed his rifle before heading to where John must have been. He had run out of the house and down the road, he saw the dog attached to John's leg and he saw John beat the dog over the head with his two tiny bare hands. When Mr. Davenport knew that the dog was far enough away from John, he quickly took the open shot with his rifle, killing the rabies infested animal.
John was so scared. He didn't know what had happened. One moment, the dog was there, growling at him, and the next, the dog was on the ground, covered in blood and not moving. His body had gone numb from the shock, and possibly the rabies setting in. All John knew was that Mr. Davenport was running over to him with a gun in his hands and picking him up to carry him back to the Davenport's home.
They had called 999 and gotten an ambulance to take John to the hospital. They gave him the rabies shots and it took him six months to get back to walking mostly properly again, he would still limp when it rained too much or he put too much strain on his right leg, but it had healed, barley leaving scars of the dogs teeth.
John had never mentioned this to Sherlock because he knew that Sherlock would have deleted the information. But now… now John wishes he had told him anyway. He heard the growl of the beast again and John was scared. John was scared like he had been when he was five.
AN: So this is something I just wrote up dealing with the new episode. Has nothing to actually do with the episode, just gives my head cannon an explanation as to why John was so frightened when confronted with the Hound.
Other head cannons in here that are mine and you don't have to agree is that Harry became an Alcoholic because their father was one and that their mother passed away because of Breast Cancer. Also, that Harry and John are twins but Harry is the elder twin. This is why I believe John is scared of Dogs, and also another reason for the limp, going along with it was psychosomatic, I think that is only partially correct, that something in the war made him limp but that he really does have some problem with his leg. To go along with the original cannon that stated that "Watson owned a bull-pup." I am stating that in the late 1800's that was a common phrase for an army vet who continued to carry a pistol, so John is always carrying a gun. If you enjoyed this please review, I hope you did because I enjoyed writing this! This is a one-shot, but please feel free to comment. Also check out my new Wholock fic "The Adventure of Jack The Ripper" which I shall hopefully be continuing soon! Hope to see your reviews!
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