So, I'm a huge fan of BBC's modern adaptation of the brilliant Sherlock Holmes stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and my friend blod1tatws has been on fanfiction for a while creating awesome stuff (check her out!) – So, I might as well give it a go myself. Now, don't expect anything brilliant, I'm more comfortable writing in my first language, Welsh and my English is not very good (examination wise).

I'm just thinking, what happened before Sherlock and John met? What happened in Sherlock's childhood? Johns Afghanistan time? The feud between Sgt Donovan and Sherlock, when Sherlock met Molly etc. Here I'm just using my imagination. I don't own anything, and this is based on my imagination and a few helps from Wikipedia! Enjoy and review!

(Also, I'm using titles from songs or musicals as titles, just to play with it a bit more and to bring something from my other obsession, Desperate Housewives, into this as the episode titles on DH are all from Stephen Sondheim songs.)

Prologue:

Standing in his empty hallway at the back of 32 Bradgate Lane, looking at the four walls that surrounded him; he sighed. With a firm hand he turned the key in the lock and walked towards the front door. Stopping, anticipating, then, looking back onto the hallway. Looking up at the winding staircase, into the empty lounge and on the white washed walls that glared at him. Another sigh.

'Well, I guess this is the end of our story now, time for a clean slate, fresh start, for you and me.'

There was a short silence.

'Too much has happened here, we need to move on, I need to..Wait. What am I doing? Speaking to an empty house..It's come to this now has it?'

He turned his back on the house, pulled the door shut tightly and slid away from the small picket fence that lined with the pavement. He walked ahead and didn't hesitate to look back at the house that held so many memories for him, it was like he was escaping a prison he'd lived in for so many years and was now free to do as he pleased. Slowly he faded into the distant, all alone with just his backpack.

Chapter 1: Long Sunday Afternoon

On a quiet Sunday in march, you'd expect the local station to be fairly quiet. But not today.

Typical,' he thought 'All I want it a bloody ticket out of here and I have to queue even to do that!'

'Can I help you, Sir?' came a voice from behind him 'I'm sorry, we're having a bit of trouble with the ticket machines at the tills. If you're in a hurry I could come with you to the machines over here, only if you're paying with a card of course...'

'Yes, yes. That's fine.' He replied, quite frustrated, but eager to get going.

'Very well, Sir. Follow me. Right, I just need a few details first to put on the ticket. Name?'

'Watson. John Watson.'

'Have you any titles? Or is it just Mr?'

'Doctor, actually.'

'Okay,' the man pressed a few buttons, then a few more, and John was slightly frustrated as the line had now gone down on the check in desk. 'Right, where are you travelling to Dr Watson?'

'Coningsby, Linconshire.'

'Oh right, now then, I can get you off at Hubberts Bridge Rail Station or Heckington Rail Station...'

'Hubberts will do. That's the closest to Conningsby Airground. Just the ticket then please.'

'Conningsby Airground? That's the RAF is it? Going somewhere nice?' The look on John's face was enough to make him realise he'd phrased the question wrongly. 'Well you know what I mean, somewhere not involved in war?'

'Nice enough. I guess. Afghanistan. If you must know.' His face was red as he handed over the ticket. 'Thanks.'

He headed for platform 2 and boarded the train just in time. He found a seat next to the window, looking back on the old town, seeing it disappear into the distance, into his past.

The intercom on the train sounded. 'Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen this is Emma speaking. We are due to arrive at Hubberts Bridge Station in approximately 6 minutes, will passengers wishing to depart at this particular stop please inform members of staff as we will not be stopping the train unless you wish to depart. Thank you.'

'Guess that's us then, mate' came a voice from the seat across. John hadn't noticed him during the journey. 'You're going same place as me probably with that sack. Hairstyle all cut nicely and you've shaved. Better prepared than me, mate, I'll be doing that in the toilets an hour before we go. I'm Neil.' John shook his hand and replied with his name.

The intercom sounded again. 'All passengers wishing to depart at the next stop, Hubberts Bridge Station please make your way to the exit doors and alert any member of crew. Thank you.'

'After you, John, mate.'

The Lincolnshire countryside was very different from the small town John had lived in for so many years. City life had not suited him at all. But he couldn't see himself living here either, amidst all the fields and the farmland. He couldn't really see himself living anywhere. As the two men walked along the narrow country roads up to RAF Conningsby, they chatted about interests, likes and dislikes, and how their training went.

'In it for the adventure I am. Can't wait to see more of the world than a tiny corner of England. It'll be tough at times, but so is life back home. We'll be fine, you and me, we'll stick together.' There was no reaction from John, he just stared, gazing at the vast fields of green that lay around him.

'What about you, John?'

'Huh? Me? I don't know anymore. Nothing else to do, I guess. Nothing to keep me there. Escaping is such an easy reason, but that's the only one I can think of. Escaping. Escaping my past, people I met, things I did. Escaping seemed like an easy option.'