The Underdog
A/N: Hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own nothing (that could get me in trouble for copyright infringement).
Everyone loves an underdog – when they win. When said underdog sits there passively or gets chewed to bits by the much bigger dogs around him, not too many people are impressed. So perhaps the saying should be, "Everyone love an underdog that becomes a non-underdog and beats the shit out of its opponents."
John Watson is an underdog. He has an on-again, off-again limp, a roommate who hasn't yet heard that it's the fashionable thing this season to actually pay rent, and a rather stale job as a free-lance physician. He is not a king or a CEO or the quarterback on one of those profession football teams in America. Every morning starts the same – toast with whatever condiments Sherlock hasn't stolen as presents for his new girlfriend (yes, a girlfriend, but more on that later). Then a short shower and off to work.
Now is later. Sherlock's girlfriend. How to describe her? Short and angry and smelling of alcohol. She also has a strange need to exercise her inexplicable control over Sherlock. Whether it's having him steal apricot jam or buy her a ride on the mechanical unicorn outside the grocery store, she will find at least one ridiculous thing to make him do each time they are together. Yet another thing that makes John such an underdog – this is the girl his roommate chose… exactly three days after John accidentally made one of the most embarrassing confessions of love over email. Fortunately, he patched everything up, caught the "hacker" who sent the ridiculous message, and is now back to being a normal, heterosexual co-dweller. But still, really Sherlock?
Jessie, the aforementioned dictatorial girlfriend, walks into the living room as John is about to leave. Rubbing her hands across her face in a decidedly unattractive manner, she snorts at his choice of wardrobe (a black button-down and black slacks) and asks, "Who died?"
"Sherlock's sanity." The reply is mumbled but clear enough for Jessie to guess. The glare he receives causes John to leave the apartment a little faster than usual. Running down the stairs and into the street, he knocks into one of the bratty neighbor kids. The boy gives him a dirty look and a 'you-want-to-start-something?' arm gesture that gives him a view of the kid's tank top. 'Come at me bro' is plastered in neon letters on the chest. He just got come-at-me-bro'ed by a twelve year old.
Yes, John Watson is an underdog who is most definitely not winning any time soon.