Wa-hey! How are you guys doing? It's been a millenia, I know, but I wrote this for my creative writing class-just like this, and I figured it wouldn't be a bad thing to post it. Enjoy. The fanfic website's formatting is really weird to me.
There was the familiar, dreadful sound of bone cracking and shattering, the heavy thud of a man slamming into concrete from four stories above. His pale skin was torn and shredded, head of mass of bloody dark curls, and in the cooling wrist there was no pulse. No pulse no pulse no pulse-
John Hamish Watson forced his eyes shut at the image of the glaring, dew covered tombstone that read cheerfully:
Sherlock Holmes
His breath was shaky in the warm afternoon of the graveyard.
Come now, Doctor, is that all you see?
John sucked in a harsh breath. Trees rustled in the soft wind and occasionally red, brown, or yellow leaves loosed themselves from their branches and died on the earth. The wilting blue and white flowers on the grave next to him were from the large marble statue in the entrance someone had placed yesterday. Lovers strolled past without a care crooning and giggling in sweet voices to each other, cars screeched and honked three blocks away.
The world had moved on. It had moved on three weeks after, one month after, six months after, and now, three years later, no one remembered. No one cared. They had moved on. But John hadn't. He was still chained to that man's legacy and intended to keep it that way. He would rather die than forget the man who changed his life so completely.
John rest calloused and paling hands on the cold slopes of the tombstone, allowing his hands to slide down the side as his body followed, and eventually, he wrapped his arms around the stone and brought himself as close as the laws of physics would allow. His eyes grew hot and he slammed his eyes shut, squeezing his arms painfully around the rock.
"Please," he whispered as he had on that wet morning, "just one more miracle…"
Of all the places he could have been, why a bloody spaceship?
"You bastard!'
A vicious right hook.
"Captain, this man needs to be restrained."
"Aw, can't I enjoy myself a little longer?"
"Captain."
"Alright! Alright! Who is this guy anyway?"
John could feel firm wiry arms slip underneath his shoulders and begin to hoist him off his feet. He thrashed wildly, kicking and yelling even louder.
"Uh, Spock? Little help here?"
John Watson let out one final roar.
"SHERLOCK!"
It had been three days since John had been transported to the intergalactic spaceship called the Starship Enterprise. Due to his past it did not take the army doctor long to adapt and accept his situation, he saw proof enough in the reality when captain Kirk had the rest of the crew greet him. Some were green, furry, or had three eyes and the lieutenant Spock did not appreciate being called an elf. Which brought him back to the present.
Captain Kirk had decided to let him see Sherlock.
When he strode impatiently though the pressurized doors, the captain and lieutenant close behind. The holding cell was a thick glass wall with seemingly no entryway and devoid of all material goods. He stepped lightly until he was a mere foot from the wall, the man behind it staring at him like a predator.
John's heart ached; he looked different. The man before him carried more muscle on his body, his chestnut hair was cut shorter than his previous swaying curls. There was something else too, a change in the way he carried himself, something bitter and dark. John shuffled closer, placing his left hand on the glass. He took a shallow breath to speak when a deep baritone interrupted him.
"Who was he?"
John's breath choked in his throat.
"Don't play dumb with me Sherlock, it doesn't suit you."
"You have obviously mistaken me for-"
"No I haven't and I'll prove it!" John exclaimed, "I'll make you remember!"
With that declaration the army doctor stormed out and returned the next day wearing nothing but a white sheet he'd taken from his bunk.
Kahn raised a dark brow.
"You peculiar little man."
"You did it first you twat! When you were taken to Buckingham Palace!"
John could see the beginnings of a condescending smirk and flushed. He left quickly, ignoring the Captain's gawking as he ran by, feet slapping on the cold metal flooring.
The next day the army doctor returned in his previous beige wool sweater and blue jeans. He sat with his back against the cell wall.
"The Woman."
"What woman?"
"Irene Adler, you plonker."
"Another one of your fantasies I take it?" The words were drawled in a way that could only come from the quirking of lips.
"She was your biggest fantasy," John said bitterly, "you compromised an anti-terrorist act to impress her."
"You sound jealous."
Kahn felt a strange delight in the way the doctor's ears turned red, a kind of schadenfreude he mused.
He was quietly disappointed whenever the little man left so soon.
After numerous attempts, John was reaching his limit.
"You are questioning me on my knowledge of the stars?" Kahn scoffed.
Frustration and desperation began to cloud John's features.
"I was your best friend Sherlock, How can you not remember!?"
"I have no friends." He spat the word out like bile.
John whipped around to face Kirk who had been watching from the entrance.
"Open the fucking door." He growled.
The Captain flinched and held up both hands in surrender. The moment the glass door slid open John burst through and slammed the intergalactic terrorist against the clear wall, blocking himself from view. Snarling he twisted a hand into Kahn's short hair and smashed their lips together. When John pulled back a second later, Kahn brought a pale wrist to his mouth looking miffed.
"That was unpleas-"
"Say one more word and I swear to god I'll elope with Mycroft!'
There was a click in Kahn's stormy eyes then, a shift in demeanor, a reboot in his mind palace, that released the tension in his broad shoulders. He took a broad step forward.
"No…" He whispered.
John sniffled, wiping an angry tear away.
"What?"
Kahn stalked closer.
"I'll not allow my doctor to do something so painfully idiotic."
"Sherlock?"
The world's greatest detective smiled warmly then, the first he had seen since coming aboard the Enterprise.
John Watson punched it right off.