It had been only a week since Dr. John Watson had returned home from his military service in Afghanistan. He'd been honorably discharged, wounded in combat. His days were dull. Although he had taken a bullet to his left shoulder he walked with a limp. He used a cane to make himself more mobile, however it was tedious. It seemed as though He was becoming an old man, although he was only in his early 30's.
John Slept very rarely since he'd returned, haunted by dreams of his own boys dripping blood, and the shocked faces of his advisories as they breathed their final breathes. Being that he was a military doctor John had seen more then his fair share of gore. On more then one occasion he'd had to remove various limbs from fellow soldiers in an attempt to spare the rest of their bodies, sometimes in vain. It was all very personal though he tried not to let it be. These were men that he saw everyday. In the barracks, out on the front lines, and now on his table as he tried to assure them that they would make it home. He knew their names and stories. He knew about the wives and children they had left behind at home and their aspirations for the future past the harsh reality of their present situations. It was all he could dream of these days.
He'd made several attempt at being a normal civilian again since he'd return. Currently he was staying in London in tiny one room flat with the kitchen attached to the bedroom. There wasn't much to it as he didn't own much these days. Fortunately, that made it simple for him to keep everything tidy.
'1 new voicemail ' The message flashed on the screen of his mobile while. John assumed that the message would be yet another one of Harry's attempts to get in contact with him since he'd returned. Speaking to Harry wasn't high on his list of priorities at the moment. They'd had dinner the night He'd gotten to London. She'd picked him up at the airport and brought him some of his old things, as well as giving him a new cell phone.
"Try to stay in contact will you please. I've been worried sick about you while you were over seas. When I heard that you'd been shot I was absolutely terrified that I'd never get to see my little brother again." Harry had said. The emotional sentiment went for the most part unnoticed. John did however notice something else.
"Clara give this to you?" He asked, spotting the engraving on the back.
"Yes it was a birthday present. I've um, upgraded since then. "Harry said. " Are you sure you're going to stay in London. You could always come and live with me until you get a job sorted and all that." She offer in an attempt to take the conversation away from her and Clara.
"I'll be fine thanks. Besides you two would probably prefer your privacy. Don't need me sticking around." John said. It was the most polite excuse he could come up with without touching on the many reason he'd rather not live with Harry.
"It's actually rather lonely at home at the moment... I didn't really want to bring my personal problems things the first night you got home but Clara and I are getting a divorce. That's why she didn't come with me this evening."
"What?" John asked a little astonished. " She left you?"
"No. I left her. It's a long story, I would really prefer not to get into it at the moment." Harry turned away to flag down the waiter, asking him for another whiskey on the rocks.
John picked up his phone and pressed his ear to it to check his message. To his surprise it was not Harry. "Hello John, this is Dr. Ella Thompson. I was just checking it to make sure that we were still on for your first appointment tomorrow afternoon at 3 a clock. Please let me know. Have a good night." John had almost forgotten. He was set to meet with his therapist for the first time the following day. Perfect, another way to make him feel like his new life was inadequate. Therapy, nightmares, pain medications and that bloody limp. Is this what he'd become. The idea was intolerable. He pocketed his phone, threw on a jacket over his jumper and headed out.
He decided to take a walk down to a bar close to the flat he was staying in. At least he could get out and have a drink, Maybe even catch the football game to distract fro that fact that he'd be sitting at the bar drinking by himself. He had made several attempts to get a hold of old friends he thought might still be in London but for the most part his efforts had yielding nothing but a few emails promising they would have drinks ' At some point soon, things are really busy at the moment.'
He sat at the end of the bar watching the football game. He was on his 3rd pint when he heard someone shout from behind him. " JOHN WATSON." He turned quickly to see a plump middle aged gentleman standing near door of the bar. He did't recognize him although the face seemed overwhelmingly familiar to him even though he couldn't manage to place it. " Mike Stamford." Mike said, noticing Johns confused expression.
"Oh wow, Hi it's been a while." John said as Mike took the seat next to him at the bar.
"It has, it has." Mike said, ordering himself a beer although he already reeked of alcohol. "Someone told me your died." He blurted out. " I thought I might be seeing things."
"Don't know where they came up with that one. I did get shot though, been overseas. I just came back last week actually." John said.
"You don't say!" Mike said with what John assumed to be mock wonder.
"Well I wasn't getting shot out here in London." John said causing Mike to let out a low rumbling laugh which seemed to start in his belly and work it's way up to his throat. He clapped his hand against John's shoulder, causing John to wince a bit. Although it was healing well he was still having some pain in his shoulder do to the bullet wound.
"Still humorous as ever eh Johnny Boy?"Mike said, "Bartender get this man a shot of bourbon. He's just come back from the war." The bartender rolled his eyes at Mike who seemed to be very drunk already and slid 2 shots down to them. John wasn't much for liquor although he did enjoy a good bourbon from time to time. He quickly knocked it back, slamming the glass down on the bar. "Got a kick don't it." Mike said, draining his own. "Say I know a bar not to far from here that might be a little more exciting. Maybe we can find you a nice lady friend solider. Probably been a while hasn't it?" Mike said. John blushed, but he didn't think that Mike would take no for an answer and it would be nice to meet some people.
"Alright then I'm game." John said putting a few dollars down on the bar and getting up to grab his cane. He'd forgot about it up until now. What self respecting young woman is going to flirt with a man who carries a cane, not at this age. On the other hand if they were going somewhere that a man like Mike could find a date then he probably wouldn't run into a problem.
"This is the place." Mike said as they arrived. John looked out the window of the cab at a glowing red sign. 'Angelo's' it said in florescent lettering. John had heard of the place before, it was known for cheap drinks, and a rather seedy reputation.
John looked around as they walked into the dimly lit bar. All of the men in their looked to be middle aged. Some looked to be a bit rougher then others but the crowd seemed mixed. Some of the men looked very well to do Perhaps even Lawyers and Bankers they probably could have afforded a place much more upscale then this dive.
They took a seat at a table in the corner. Although the bar seemed to be very low budget they had an array of beautiful, scantily clad waitresses. A tall blond woman wearing little more then what looked like a plaid napkin and heels came walking over to the table. " What can I get for your boys?" She asked, winking at Mike. "I'll have a scotch on the rocks please and..."
"Just a Guinness for me thanks." John said, he's not starting to catch on to why Angelo's had gotten the reputation that it had. After all they weren't far from Baker street.
Of all the places that you didn't want to be caught late at night Baker street was the least desirable. Drugs and crime ran rampant. Worst of all though it was where most of London's desperate went to seek company from ladies of the night. John had come to realize what Mike had meant when he said find him a girl and was now starting to get more and more uncomfortable. "I'm going to go out and have a smoke." John said, standing up.
"Alright mate." Mike said, as John headed for the door.
John leaned against the wall outside, just to the left of the bar so that he wouldn't be visible through the window. He didn't even smoke, he was just looking for an excuse to pop out for a minute and think. He though about leaving but it was nice to have some company for once...
Sherlock Holmes stood in the alley behind Angelo's smoking a cigarette. He was a tall and gangly young boy of about 25 years of age. He'd been working in the kitchen washing dishes. He could make a little extra money on the side and it was a good place to scout out Tricks. "Thought I might find you here." A grey haired man in a trench coat said, walking into the alley behind the establishment. Sherlock didn't seem at all bothered by his appearance.
"I've been working in the kitchen, washing dishes for Angelo." He said, not bothering to look at the man as he took another puff of his cigarette.
"Good, maybe that will keep you out of trouble for a little while. "
"What do you want Lestrade? I have to get back in soon." Sherlock asked. Lestrade cleared his throat.
"Well, for one, you were supposed to check in with me this afternoon. This is the fourth time you haven't shown in two weeks. I have to tell the courts." Lestrade told Sherlock who didn't seem at all phased by this information.
"Why would I bother to come and meet you if you're just going to come and find me anyways? I've seen you plenty in the last two weeks" Sherlock said dropping his cigarette and stomping the embers out under his boot. "Besides I told you. I've been working today."
"Angelo's doesn't open till 6. We were supposed to meet at 2." Lestrade pointed out. "If you're not going to comply with the rest of the terms of your probation the least you could do is show up. You're obviously high right now and, I'm sorry Sherlock but I'm going to have to report this to the court. I've given you enough chances."
"Then why don't I just tell them that you've been disregarding my behavior in exchange for information for months. I'm sure the judge would just love to hear about that." Sherlock retorted. Lestrade sighed.
"Fine, I won't tell them YET. you do need to make a more conscious effort to show them that you're cleaning up your act. I can't cover for you forever."
"Mycroft will just bail me out anyways." Sherlock said.
"And what about when he gets tired of you acting like a child and decides to leave your ass in their to teach you a lesson?" Lestrade asked.
"That's the last thing he wants. You know as well as I do he never would even if he wanted to. Prison will only teach me how to become a better criminal and no one wants that." Sherlock pointed out. " Now will you tell me what you want?"
"There have been a series of deaths, we've found 3 so far this week. All of them were dope fiends who had been poisoned with Strychnine. None of them have any correlation between. They came from different backgrounds. All of the bodies were found in different parts of London. 3 Others were admitted for Strychnine poisoning. We want to know who's responsible." Lestrade said.
"Alright I'll look into it and see what I can do." Sherlock said, turning to head back inside.
"You might want to lay off the Smack until we get this all sorted." Lestrade advised. Sherlock didn't respond, continuing on his way back to the kitchen.
He didn't even reach his place at the sink before Angelo confronted him. " SHERLOCK!" He yelled, sounding much like an angry bear. Sherlock turned to look at him but said nothing. " HAVE YOU BEEN STEALING LIQUOR FROM BEHIND THE BAR AGIAN?" He accused. Sherlock turned to the sink and started to wash. He was in no mood to answer questions much less deal with accusations that may or may not have been true. " HAVE YOU? ANSWER ME."
"It was probably one of the girls." Sherlock said, brushing off the question.
"None of them are so careless. I bring you in here I give you a job and this is how your repay me. You even smell of alcohol." Angelo insisted and he walked over the to sink. He grabbed Sherlock by his collar, pulling him around to face him. " Boy you listen to me when I'm talking to you. I know that you took it. I'm missing 3 bottles of gin. Who else would have gone through 3 bottles of gin?" He asked Sherlock shrugged, playing dumb. Angelo was enraged, he pulled Sherlock towards the door dragging him through the bar and out to the front, pushing him out the door with a surprising amount of force. he fell and hit the pavement, face down. "don't you come back you little snake!"
John looked over from where he'd been standing. He'd been deep in thoughts but was now distracted by the man laying face down on the street. He seriously doubted he'd be going back into the establishment now.
"What are you looking at?" Sherlock asked glaring up at him. It was only then that john realized he'd been staring.
"... your face is bleeding." John said, mentally cursing himself. That was the best response he could come up with? Sherlock Wiped at his face seeing a shocking amount of blood on his hand. He really hadn't expected it to be bad, but he couldn't feel his face to begin with so it wasn't that hard to believe.
"Are you alright, I um, I'm a doctor, let me have a look." John said moving toward the boy. Sherlock was more then used to being approached by strange men especially in their current part of town. He decided to put on his charms.
"It hurts doctor. Can you help me?" He asked. John kneeled down on the ground next to sherlock looking over his face. It was badly bruised and his lip had been busted open as well as a gash on his forehead.
"I think you're going to need stitches unfortunately. It looked like you hit your face pretty hard." John said.
"That bastard. I work for the guy who threw me out. Thinks I stole some liquor. It was the waitresses though. I took the heat for it cause well, you see how he reacted." Sherlock lied, trying to make himself seem at least halfway decent.
"That's very noble of you." John commented. " You should probably go the hospital..."
"I can't, no insurance." Sherlock said. "Maybe you could stitch me up? You said you were a doctor aren't you?" John thought about it, for a moment before responding. He certainly couldn't leave the man their bleeding.
"Yeah I've got a first aid kit back at my flat if you want to come with me." John said, using his cane to get himself back up. Sherlock stood as well as John hailed them a cab. Bingo found his first of the night and a doctor none the less, he probably had money.