It was his farewell party, and Doctor Watson didn't want to screw it up.

Everything went well, splendid actually. He got a new job in London Bridge Hospital, soon earned a reputation in his professional field, and got a loan to set up his own clinic at Old Broad Street 10 months later. When decorating his new office through whose window he could see Bart's old building and those streets he was once so familiar with in his college days, Doctor Watson almost believed his life just went a circle and now set back to some sort of better square one, although deep down he knew it was not true.

It was not true even he hadn't seen people who made his life different for long, long enough to forget or be forgotten. They disappeared in his life all of a sudden just as how they entered it. He racked his brain to think up every word, every movement and the tiniest facial expression or hidden tone in his few touches with them, that was his only comfort in the first several months when he woke up in his wet and cold single apartment at midnight, knowing he would see those people no more. One day he saw Anderson in the street. He froze. Anderson turned and saw him, too, then swiftly walked around the corner and disappeared. That was the time when he knew they avoided getting in touch with him, too, like some sort of secret deal. They, Molly Hooper, Gregory Lestrade, Sally Donovan, Anderson, Mrs. Hudson, Sarah, everyone. They were almost friends, relatives, some wonderful intimate relationships between he and people he barely knew. And he lost the chance to get to know them once for all.

He remembered the day he went back to his work and met Sarah on the doorway. She kissed him softly on the cheek. When the kiss ended, he saw her beautiful eyes welled up with tears. That day he resigned that job and returned to his basement apartment, deciding to cut off every linkage with his past.

The decision was not easy, yet the least difficult one he could make for himself. He had to follow it to his best.

One week later he got a job in London Bridge Hospital, the best position he could possibly dreamed of yet hardly remembered to have applied for. He turned it down. The next day he received an e-mail without sender or title. The content was simply "please".

Doctor Watson didn't sleep that night. He just walked to the park. When his leg began to hurt, he sat down and stared into darkness, despite of the heavy dew in late autumn or his worn sweater. The next day he enrolled at London Bridge Hospital, met new colleagues, made new jokes, saw new patients and tried new restaurants.

That was it, John Watson's new life. He behaved nicely and worked so hard. He won himself reputation, career prospect and a farewell party from colleagues in London Bridge Hospital, and he was going to enjoy them all. That was the exact reason why he was sitting in this Temple bar where one of his nearest colleagues suggested right now. Everyone said something warm to him and asked him to keep in touch. The drinks were nice and the food delicious, the conversations were comfortable and the jokes funny. Doctor Watson held his breath and tried to maintain a permanent smile just as what he did for the last 12 months; he didn't want to screw the party at all.

"Hey." He distracted for too long, almost overlooked the woman sitting beside him who had watched him for more than 15 minutes before finally tried to accost him.

"Hey." He replied mechanically, startled from his own thoughts.

"Hi." She looked at him with a shy smile, then repeated another "Hi" and wrinkled her nose in a lovely way as if admitting all the courage had abandoned her suddenly.

"Hi." John smiles, relaxed. "Nice weather."

"Yes." She wrinkled her nose again. "I've seen no better in several weeks."

They looked at each other for several seconds, and burst into laughter at the same time.

The rest of farewell party, John told Amanda stories in hospital, most between doctors and patients, and some between doctors or patients themselves. She laughed at every punch line and widened her big blue eyes admiringly. Finally she comments, "Wow, working in hospital is exciting, isn't it?"

Before he realized it, John replied reassuringly, "So as to primary schools."

She moved her sight right into John's eyes slowly, which was rather hard since her sight never left his face during their conversation, somehow she managed it.

"You are freaking me out." She said doubtfully. "How did you know my job?"

John tried to explain, yet couldn't find a right word to start with before the mud on shoes, trace of glasses around eyes and chalk on fingers, formal dress in a casual bar or the handbag shape suggesting a pile of exercise books inside, and finally, a primary school nearby. "I drank too much." He said to himself.

"It's the first time we meet, right? I'm pretty sure I've never seen you before." Now her look was mixed with fear and disgust. "Please let me go; otherwise I'd call the police."

She stood up and walked to the door.

The next second, a boom ripped through not further than half a mile. The sound tore everyone's eardrums apart.

"Yes, that way is quicker." John murmured to himself, couldn't help to remember a voice he never managed to forget, and a bitter smile curved on his lip, when everyone else run to the door as quickly as possible.

So, the party was screwed up. Doctor Watson gave a soothing smile to the surprised barman, picking out his wallet.

Indeed, that way was quicker. The street was already filled with police cars and police when John walked out of the bar, and ran into a familiar figure. The latter hesitated a little at the sight of him, then spoke to him, "Hi, John." Taking the chaotic scene into account, Inspector Lestrade's voice was unusually gentle.

"Hi." John replied. They looked at each other.

Lestrade was apparently trying to make a conversation, which was not easy. "So," he finally began, "I'm quite occupied here, but…"

"Yes, I can see that." John interrupted him, then regretted a bit. Lestrade was a nice guy, very nice to him and other people, indeed. He should not be that rude. "So, see you later?"

The inspector looked relieved and assured, "Yes, indeed. Do come and visit…" When his earphone came the sound, "Car explosion, dead body in trunk…"

Scotland Yard? Not likely. John smiled to himself, the second time in a day. He decided to make no reply, just walked past holding a smile.

"I won't be surprised if the body was dead before the explosion." John thought to himself while waiting for the tube at Elephant & Castle station. He just didn't want to take any cab, at any time, and he knew somehow he would have nightmare that night.

He did. He dreamed of the fall.