A/N: Hi all this is my first attempt at writing anything. Ever. I've taken this up as a summer project of sorts. I found inspiration by the marvellous acting of Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman (Sherlock and Dr. John Watson, respectively), got an idea and decided to run with it. Any reviews are appreciated but keep in mind I'm a total novice when it comes to this sort of thing.
Disclaimer: I have no ownership of the characters portrayed in this story and they remain the "property" of the BBC and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I'm not getting any money from this work.
"In breaking news, there has been another blast in Damascus targeting a primary school and nearby hospital. The death toll is unknown but is expected to be in the hundreds, including children and the elderly. The total fatalities throughout the country as a result of this war is expected to be over half a million citizens and military personnel. Six British soldiers are amongst the casualties. We will bring you more news as it comes. In Damascus Brianna Hodgson, BBC News."
"John? John?" barked Sherlock.
"What is it now, Sherlock?" was John's curt reply.
"Pass me my phone" muttered Sherlock.
"Where is it?" John replied.
"In my pocket." Sherlock didn't bother looking up from his microscope, sitting amongst several papers and petrie dishes.
John sighed as he stood up and walked towards the brooding detective. "You know you could always get the damn thing yourself" he muttered. John carefully put his hand in Sherlock's pocket and retrieved his phone.
"Now send as message to Lestrade. I need a new case." Sherlock said.
"Why can't you do it?" said John though gritted teeth.
"Why should I when you can?" Sherlock replied.
John sighed as he send another message to the DI. Sherlock doesn't seem to understand that a case won't come any quicker no matter how many time he asks. John went back to his chair and returned to watching the news.
A reply came almost instantly. "Lestrade says there's nothing new and to stop bothering him" John called over his shoulder. Sherlock didn't seem to hear a thing.
"Sherlock are you listening to me?" John asked. Sherlock, again, didn't look up from his microscope.
"What on Earth is so fascinating that you can't be bothered to answer me?" said John.
"You wouldn't see the importance of it." mumbled Sherlock.
"Try me" John replied.
Sherlock looked agitated as he looked up to his flatmate. "I said you wouldn't understand. Besides, this is important and requires my full attention" he snapped. Sherlock was growing more agitated by the hour, John noticed. He always gets like this when he doesn't have a case.
"You know there are more important things in life, Sherlock" John muttered.
"Really? Like what?" Sherlock replied.
"You do realise there is a war going on, don't you?" John said.
"War? War is boring" Sherlock replied.
"Boring? BORING? You do realise people are dying, right? People are losing their homes and livelihoods over some stupid political squabbling!" John snapped.
"So? People are dying every day. It's what happens. Getting upset about it won't change anything." Sherlock said. "Besides, it's not like you can do anything, John."
"I was able to. Before some bastard shot me" John quietly replied. "But that doesn't mean I still don't care about what is going on."
"Sentiment doesn't solve anything, John. You aren't there any more. You can't fix anything. Go over to Bart's if you want to wallow in grief over the hundreds of dying people lying in their beds." Sherlock said.
John was growing more agitated and frustration at his friend. He was trying to control his anger before he said something he would regret.
"Don't you care, Sherlock? Don't you care about those that are suffering? All those dead bodies we look at have families. Loved ones. Friends. Don't you care about those who are left behind?" John asked.
"No. Caring won't bring them back or solve a case."
John stared at his flatmate in shock. He doesn't know why he still gets surprised by Sherlock's total lack of empathy towards others. The self confessed sociopath (albeit high functioning) hasn't changed since the day he met him.
"I'm going out, Sherlock." John said as he put his jacket on.
There was no reply from Sherlock, who was once again starting down his microscope.
"Do you need me to get anything while I'm out?" John called once he was down the stairs.
Again, there was no reply.
John walked away from 221B quickly. The wind was picking up and he didn't want to be out long. But he had to get away before he said something he'd regret. John has started to feel useless. He was stuck in some city clinic tending to babies with the sniffles when he used to patch up soldiers in the field. He used to be someone. Someone useful. Now all he did was run around with Sherlock like a puppy. John didn't even know why Sherlock needed him. It's not like he could deduce anything Sherlock couldn't. Most of the time he just copped abuse and ran errands. It was nothing like his life before. As John waited at a crossing he saw an army recruitment poster. He chuckled to himself once he noticed it hadn't changed a bit since he joined all those years ago.
"John? John Watson?" called a voice behind him. It sounded eerily familiar. John turned around and was quite startled by the man he saw. John could barely recognise him. The lean, muscular man he once knew was gone, his blonde hair speckled with greys.
"Simon? Simon Marx is that you?" John answered. "Good God man I can barely recognise you!"
"Yeah you really stack on the pounds once you aren't running around some dust bowl" he laughed. "So how have you been, Dr Watson?" Simon asked.
"Yeah…well…civilian life is certainly different to being on the front line" John replied.
"Gotta agree with you there, mate. But sometimes you miss the action, eh? Nothing gets the blood pumping through your veins like being shot at" Simon laughed.
John faked a smile. "Well you're lucky that you left on your own terms. I left a bit…prematurely"
Simon looked at his friend sadly. He knew John was a good doctor and a great soldier. He know the fulfilment John got when he saved lives. He had saved countless lives, in fact.
"I see you've been looking at the recruitment poster, eh? Trying to get all those young, fit lads to sign their lives away to Queen and country." Simon said cheerily. "Definitely got us."
"It really did" John replied. Thinking back on his time in Afghanistan made him both terrified and melancholic.
"You know they're desperate for doctors in Syria" Simon said. "Ever thought about joining the Medical Corps? I don't think you'll have to go on the front line, not if you're helping civilians."
John thought about it for a second. Could he really do it? Could he leave his life here in London and go back to war?
"You know what? I might think about it" John replied. "Besides I don't really have anything holding me here."
"No wife and kids? I know Tara and the kids would never let me go" Simon said. "My boy is starting school soon. Wouldn't miss that for the world."
John slowly thought of his response. "No-one of significance" he replied. The way he was feeling right now he could barely think of Sherlock.
"Well I need to go, John. Promised to take the family out for dinner. It was great seeing you, by the way. Might end up seeing you on the telly patching people up" Simon laughed.
"Yeah…you never know. It was great seeing you, Simon." John replied.
The conversation had definitely given him something to think about during his return to Baker Street.
Sherlock was still looking through his microscope while he pondered his earlier "debate" with John. Why did he have to have so many…emotions? So much sentiment? It never did anyone any good, he thought. Caring is no advantage. It only gets in the way. But why was John so angry with him? Sherlock heard the door open and those familiar steps up the stairs. He was still preoccupied as John entered the room.
"John, pass me a pen" Sherlock asked.
"Sherlock did you even realise I was gone?" John replied. "You haven't moved an inch since I left and I've been gone for hours."
"Oh your powers of deduction are sensational, John. Really good stuff" was Sherlock's curt reply.
"Oh for God's -" John cut himself off before he snapped. He was getting really sick of this. He tossed a pen towards Sherlock and went to the kitchen and put the kettle on.
"I ran into an old army mate of mine while I was gone" John called over his shoulder.
"Oh really? You mean the fat bloke with the cigarettes?" Sherlock said.
"How did you know?" John asked skeptically.
"He came by before you came back. Dropped this off" replied Sherlock. He held out the large yellow package.
"And you were going to tell me when?" said John, as he snatched it out of Sherlock's hands.
Sherlock looked up at his flatmate. He could tell he was getting angry with him but he didn't know why. "Well I didn't think it would be important. Since when did you get any mail, anyway?"
John stared at the package. He carefully opened it to see it's contents. There was a small note paper clipped on the front.
John,
I went by the old army office and picked this up. Thought you might want to read it. Give it a think. - Simon Marx
John quickly closed the envelope. He knew what it was but he didn't want to read it now. Not while Sherlock was here. John was so unsure as to why he was nervous about Sherlock finding out. It's not like he'd care.
"Sherlock I'm going to my room. Try and eat something" John muttered as he walked towards the door.
"But John the kettle's just boiled" Sherlock replied. Sherlock was becoming confused. It's not like John to leave a boiled kettle unused. But Sherlock simply rolled his eyes and picked up his violin. The intricacies of John's behaviour and mind was of little concern to him right now. All he wants is a case. Suddenly he felt the tell-tale buzz of a text in his pocket.
Got a new case for you. You can John should come down to the Yard ASAP. Should be a good one. - GL
What is it? - SH
Murder. Young woman found lying near the Thames. No obvious cause of death. Similar to two victims last week. Thought we could handle it but I think we need your help. - GL
John and I will come down in the morning - SH
Sherlock rubbed his hands with glee. A case! Finally a new case! The boredom has been crushing him. But for some reason he felt uneasy. Like something wasn't right. He thought about John's strange departure before. It wasn't like him to shut himself up in his room. The detective could only deduce it was something to do with the fat man and the envelope. He had to find out.