Life is full of new beginnings. It could be the day you were born, or the day you first started school. The day you moved into a new house, got a new job, or simply reached a milestone or turning point in your life. Perhaps you recovered from a near-death experience and thought, "Hey, it's time to turn my life around!", or perhaps you simply feel ready for a change.
For John Watson, this new beginning was when he met Sherlock Holmes.
After moving into Baker Street and solving that first case, his life had been divided into two sections: Before and After. Before and after he and Sherlock had become friends, that is. Before Sherlock, John's life had been dull—oh, how Sherlock would have hated it. After being sent back from Afghanistan with a bullet wound to the shoulder and a psychosomatic limp, his life had consisted of sitting miserably in his old flat (if you could even call it a flat; it reminded John of a bed-and-breakfast hotel) and regular visits to his therapist, which didn't particularly help at all. She kept telling him to write in his blog, but the truth was, he didn't have much to write about.
Ten years of military service had given John a taste for adventure, and he craved the adrenaline rush he'd felt back in Afghanistan. That first case with Sherlock reminded him of it – firing that shot that saved Sherlock's life had made him feel more alive than he had in months. He'd even been cured of his psychosomatic limp, which was ultimately what led him to stay at 221B with Sherlock. It was just as Mycroft had said; "When you walk with Sherlock Holmes, you see the battlefield" —the battlefield which John had missed so much during his pre-Sherlock days.
Whether he liked it or not, he needed Sherlock. Nobody, not even Sherlock Holmes himself, could ever know just how much meaning those words John spoke at his grave that day.
"I was so alone, and I owe you so much."
A/N: written for the thirty-day drabble challenge which i gave up on.