556 days left until...

~oOo~

0 days, 7 hours, 6 minutes and 12 seconds.

0 days, 7 hours, 6 minutes and 11 seconds.

0 days, 7 hours, 6 minutes and 10 seconds.

John never really cared much for the little timer that had been imprinted on his wrist since birth. He never really cared for the idea of a soul mate, of one perfect person for everyone. But when his timer was getting closer and closer to 0:0:0:0 he couldn't help but wonder what his soul mate would be, whether it would be a he or a she, tall or short, thin or fat. But John had no say in the matter. Once he met his soul mate it was meant to be.

So he spent every waking moment thinking about what this person would be like. In seven hours and six minutes he would know. But for now, as the bedside clock ticked around to show it was about 5 in the morning he stood up slowly and made his way to shower. Oh, how tedious this day would be, constantly waiting for the timer on his wrist to disappear and a light name imprint on him. That's what happened when you met the person. The timer just disappeared and in its place laid the name of the person. The bolder the colour the stronger the bond they would have, and John knew this.

God, he was so worried. As he stood in the shower he wondered briefly about what this person would be like. Well, he lost track of time and ended up spending an hour in the shower just thinking about his soul mate.

What if they didn't get along? That's ridiculous, John thought, of course we will, we're soul mates. But he wasn't so sure. He bit his lip nervously and climbed out to towel himself dry.

0 days, 5 hours, 58 minutes and 34 seconds.

He counted along for a few seconds and then went about his business of the day, wondering who else would be counting down like him.

Later than day John was walking through the park and staring at his wrist. It was almost midday.

0 days, 0 hours, 59 minutes and 27 minutes.

Just under an hour. John didn't know why but his heart was racing.

"John! John Watson!" He heard a familiar voice and then turned around.

"Mike!" He exclaimed as he stuck his hand out and took the forearm of his old friend, shaking it with his strong grip.

"I heard you were in the army and got shot at, what happened?" Mike asked, a bright smile on his face as he sat back down on the bench and motioned for John to do the same.

John half chuckled at the idiocy of his old friend, always one to state the obvious and then question it. He then lifted his walking stick, "I got shot at." He confirmed.

For about 20 minutes John and Mike spoke about London and the army and they got into the conversation of flat sharing. "Who'd want to share with me?" John asked sarcastically, "The retired war veteran?"

Mike laughed to himself and then half smiled at John, "You're the second person who's said that to me today."

"And who's the first?" John asked curiously.

0 days, 0 hours, 37 minutes, 30 seconds.

~oOo~

0 days, 0 hours, 4 minutes, 12 seconds.

"Four minutes." John muttered to himself as he walked through St. Barts.

"Sorry, what?" Mike asked as he looked up from the floor.

"Nothing, just talking to myself. So what did you say this persons called?"

"I didn't." He smiled and the hallway fell silent except for the tapping of their shoes as they walked.

0 days, 0 hours, 0 minutes, 56 seconds.

John walked into a room feeling different, there was one person in there, a tall man with dark curly hair and a dark suit on.

"Bit different from my day." John mumbled as he walked in and stood out of the way of the door.

"You have no idea." Mike chuckled.

"Mike, can I borrow your phone? There's no signal on mine." Sherlock said without looking at either of the men, instead he tapped away at a computer.

"What's wrong with landline?"

"I prefer to text." Sherlock shot back.

"Sorry. It's in my coat." Mike shrugged as he walked to stand slightly out of the way, but in-between Sherlock and John.

"Uh- Here, use mine." John pulled his phone out and held it up for Sherlock to see.

"Oh, thank you." Sherlock rose from the seat and walked over to John to take his phone.

"Old friend of mine, John Watson." Mike smiled as his eyes followed Sherlock across the room.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?"

Mike smiled when Sherlock said this but Johns head twitched to the side slightly to watch the man tapping away on his phone. "Sorry?" He couldn't have just said that, no, John had just met him, how could he know?

"Which was it? Afghanistan or Iraq?" he retorted.

"Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you—" At that point a lady walked in and Sherlock shut down phone and handed it back.

"Ah Molly, coffee thank you." Sherlock smiled, took the cup and asked something about lipstick, John was frankly confused about what was going on but he watched carefully.

"How do you feel about the violin?" Sherlock asked as he stared straight ahead. Johns eyes followed the lady from the room and then he looked to Mike.

It seemed Sherlock was talking to him, "I'm sorry, what?"

"I play the violin when I'm thinking. Sometimes I don't talk for days on end, would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other." He cocked his head to John and Johns eyes glazed over, he was really confused.

"You- you told him about me?" John asked Mike, a note of anger rising in his voice but barely noticeable. A war veteran with trust issues doesn't like people being told about him.

"Not a word." Mike shook his head as he looked at some chemicals in a test tube.

"Then who said anything about flatmates?"

"I did, told Mike this morning that I must be a difficult man to find a flatmate for." He stood and put his coat on as he spoke, with his back to both men. "And now here he is, just after lunch, with an old friend clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan. Wasn't a difficult leap." He smirked as he fixed his scarf around his neck.

"How did you know about Afghanistan?" John didn't like this, he didn't like things being known about him and especially not by this man.

Sherlock didn't answer his question, instead he said about a 'nice place in central London' and then went to walk out of the room.

"Is that it?"

Sherlock did and about turn and face John, "Is that what?" He questioned.

"We've only just met and we're going to go look at a flat?"

"Problem?"

"We don't know a thing about each other, I don't know where we're meeting, I don't even know your name."

"I know you're an army doctor and you've been shipped home from Afghanistan. I know you have a brother who's worried about you but you won't go to him for help. Because you don't approve of him, possible because he's an alcoholic, or likely because he recently walked out on his wife. And I know your therapist thinks your limp is psychosomatic, quite correctly I'm afraid. That's enough to be going on wouldn't you think?" He turned and once again made for the door.

John watched his retreating back and, when he heard the door click into place seemed to remember his timer. He lifted his wrist up just in time to see the little timer fade out and leave an electric blue 'Sherlock'

The door then opened again and the curly haired man stuck his head back around. "The name's Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221b Baker Street. Afternoon." And with that he was gone again and John was left wondering about why his soul mate had to be such an annoying smart arse.