A.N: Right Hello! this is something new for me, and an idea I have been playing around with for a while. Not sure if I will continue with this one... So maybe let me know what you think? Please? :D
Running.
That was the last thing he remembered.
"Man down." and running...
The last words he heard before silence and pain.
...
John Watson woke up in hospital, a heart monitor beeping at his side, bright lights above, blinding him until his eyes adjusted. The back of his head ached. a nurse standing at his bedside came into view.
"Good afternoon Dr Watson. How are you feeling?" she asked checking his vitals.
"Like I've been hit by a bus." John croaked.
The nurse chuckled slightly before cutting herself off. "Not quite, you were shot in Afghanistan. Don't you rememeber?"
John shook his head, flinching when he jolted his shoulder. He glanced over and saw his left shoulder bandanged up. "Where am I right now?"
"London. You were sent home after the second week. You have been her ever since, that was a week ago. You're unfit for duty"
Three weeks. Three weeks of his life gone.
"You're unfit for duty." Those four words echoing through his brain.
"Don't worry you will recieve you army pension and we have found you somewhere to live until you get back on your feet."
John was shocked, heartbroken. feeling useless, his brain unsure of what it shoulr be feeling right now.
His life was gone. He was no longer the man he was. His life was falling apart.
...
"A blog."
That was what his therapist suggested. "Write a blog."
What about? John could think of nothing. No one would read it anyway. What was the point? What was the point of anyhing anymore? Nothing ever happend to him. Nothing ever would.
...
As John walked home from his session with his therapist, over a month since he was shot, he walked through the streets leaning on his walking stick for support. The glow of his tan was still visible, a constant reminder of what he was. Who he was. What he had done. He walked along thinking, the same thought running through his mind again and again. Wat was the point of going on anymore?
He wasn't himself. He was no longer the man he was. He was alone and usless.
He stopped in the park to buy himself a coffee, and sat under a group of trees on a bench. That was when he decided that he should do it. Go ahead with his plan. The sooner the better.
John's shoulder gave a sharp pain, which travelled across to his spine, making him shiver, which in turn made the pain worse. John reached into his pocket and pulled out his packet of painkillers, popping two out of their blister packaging, before dropping them into his coffee letting them fizz. He took a sip off his coffee, as he remained lost in thought.
His shoulder gave another jolt, John absent mindedly popped another two tablets out of the packaging. Swallowing the tablets with another swig of coffee.
John sat on the bench lost in thought, taking two more tablets ever time his shoulder jolted, oblivous to the fact he had already done so. Slowly the packet emptied and John become more and more drousy.
As John's coffee cup became empty, he slipped into blackness.
...
John woke with a start. The sun was now high in the sky, the slops in his coffee cup stone cold. Leaning on his walking stick, John got up from the bench. Throwing his cup into the nearest bin, before he walked back through the park.
"John! John Watson!" John turned around and saw no one. Yet someone had been calling his name. "Can you hear me? John?"
John shrugged it off before he carried on walking. "John! John Watson!" John turned around once again, and saw a man sitting on a bench calling his name. He was certain he hadn't been there a second ago. "John Watson! It's me Stamford. Mike Stamford. We're at Bart's together." The man stated as he apporached John.
John stopped and thought for a moment, before the name clicked. "Oh yes! Umm, sorry hello." John said gesturing his hand towards Mike.
"Yeah I know I got fat." Mike chuckled shaking John's hand.
John held a small laugh back. Mike looked at John, "Hey what about we get a coffee, if you have a free moment that is."
John nodded, "Sure. Why not? I have no other plans."
Before heading to get coffee.
...
A woman knelt by John's figure slumped on a bench in the park. She had found him like this, passed out, empty packet of painkillers in his hand, coffee cup fallen onto the floor.
She went through his pockets quickly, to find some sort of ID. Eventually finding his wallet in his jacket pocket, which identified him as "John. H. Watson."
His pulse was weak, as the woman felt his wrist. "John! John Watson! Can you hear me?" she called, trying to see if she could wake him up.
The figure on the bench made no movement. Not giving any sign that he had heard her. The woman pulled out her mobile from her coat pocket.
9. 9. 9.
She dialled the number quickly.
"Hello. I need an ambulance, I think someone has overdosed."
...
Mike told John to go and sit down on a bench, while he went and brought the coffees. John zoned out, his mind travelled elsewhere, while he waited.
"John, what's happened? John talked to me. John?"
The voice echoed through his mind.
John opened his eyes and found Mike beside him, coffee had appeared in his hand. "I thought you were abroad somewhere getting shot at. What happened?" Mike asked.
John held the cup in his other hand for a moment, flexing his fingers. "I got shot."
The pair sat in silence for a few moments, "So your back in London then?" Mike asked, breaking the silence between them.
John shook his head, "Can't afford London on an army pension."
"I dunno- get a flat share or something then? Cant Harry help you out?"
John scoffed scarcasticly. Harry wouldn't help him out, the drink was too much of a problem. But the thoguht of a flat share had crossed John's mind, before quickly leaving again, because who would want him as a flat mate, especially with the way he was at the moment, no one should have to put up with that. "Who would want me as a flat mate?"
Mike chuckled, "You're the second person to say that to me today."
John glanced at Mike, "Who was the first?"
...
The paramedics quickly arrived, not long after the woman had made the phone call. "What's happened?" they asked her, as they arrived.
"I am not sure. I was passing and saw him like this on the bench. I am assuming he has overdosed, the packet of painkillers is empty, and he is not responding." The woman explained.
"Right okay. Do you know his name?"
"Yes it's John. John Watson. I found ID in his wallet in his jacket."
The paramedic, crouched down beside John, taping him lightly on the cheek, "John what's happened? John talk to me. John?"
No response.
The paramedics quickly got to work, attaching John to a heart monitor, cheking his vitals.
"Pupils dilated. Heart rate up. I think it might definately be an overdose. We need to get him to the hospital and quickly. He needs his stomach pumped."
They rushed around, lifting John onto a stretcher, and loading him onto the ambulance. One of the paramedics looked to the woman, "Thank you for calling it in, sorry what's you're name?"
"Mary Morstan." The woman replied.
"Well thank you. Sorry but we need to get him to hospital." That was all they said before rushing off in the amublance.
A.N; Please let me know what you think. :D