Hi everyone! My name is EspirituDelMar (EDM) and this is my first Sherlock fic, so please be gentle on me ^_^
You're my other half
Everyone in this world has a companion, their "other half". A soul mate.
This is a fact known by humanity since their first days on Earth. And the prove was the picture of half of a heart that appears a week after someone is born, just above their real heart.
Each of these pictures, called "guidance" had a color and a unique patterns that only two people in the whole world owned: him/her and their soul mate.
A person never showed their guidance to anyone. That was like showing your own soul, something delicate and completely private. They only showed when they were sure he or she was their soul mate.
But discovering who your soul mate was wasn't easy. Most people died without finding their soul mate, or married with people who wasn't their real soul mate.
The discovering of requires you and him or her being in front of you, your eyes locked in the same room and at the same moment, with no one present. Just you and your soul mate.
If you were lucky and found your mate, your guidance would start to glow, and the half-heart picture will turn to a complete one. Then, and only then, you would feel complete, like if an emptiness you didn't know you had had been filled.
It was something you never forgot, a unique experience that would remain in your mind forever.
John Watson, at his 32 years, had finally got to the conclusion that he would never find his soul mate. Everyone around him had find his, even his alcoholic sister. But him? He had been trying to find his since he knew about what the picture in his chest meant. He had dated every woman possible, even tried luck at the army (where he got shot-damn his desperation) but nothing came up.
And now here he was, alone in London, living in an army pension, with a psychosomatic limb and needing that thrill, that rush of adrenaline he had grown so addicted to at the war. Pedestrian life wasn't for him.
"Watson? John Watson?"
He turned around and saw his old companion, Mike Stamford. He returned his greeting eagerly, glad to at last find a familiar face.
They chatted for a while about what John had lived in the war and Mike's doings. Then, when they talked about John's stance in London, John said:
"No one would want to share a flat with me"
Mike smirked.
"Funny, you're the second person to tell me that this day"
"Yes? And who was the first?" John asked, curious.
"I'll take you to him"
When Sherlock had gone to Lestrade's office, he had found him quite busy, in a horrible sense: he had been kissing someone. This wouldn't have disturbed him the sightless if it wasn't because he knew the person he was kissing.
It was his brother, Mycroft Holmes. AKA the British Government.
He had stormed out the Yard, doing his best to delete those unpleasant images from his brain.
Their situation was really clear: they were obviously soul mates. And they had discovered that just a few minutes before he had entered. If he had delayed only ten minutes... he shivered. THAT would have been a real trauma.
So he stormed to St. Bart's. He had to run some evidence for a case and take something he needed for an experiment. And also, being at the lab concentrating in something else would surely erase that...unpleasant situation.
It was there where he was when he heard footsteps outside coming in his direction. Ones were quick and lively, Mike Stamford surely, and the others were heavy. Sherlock could hear the person relaying more weight onto his right leg, so he had a limp in his left one. Interesting.
Then, the door opened and two people entered. One of them was Mike Stamford, as he already knew. The other one was a man in his thirties, two or three years older than him, with blonde hair and blue eyes.
"Well, this is different from my time" The stranger commented.
"Mike, can I borrow your phone?" Sherlock said, stretching his arm towards him without looking from the microscope. When Mike gave him an excuse (which Sherlock predicted, obviously) the stranger took his own phone out.
"Here, use mine" he offered.
Sherlock looked at him, and when their eyes locked, something travelled between them. The feeling was strange, nothing neither of them had felt before.
"Thank you" Sherlock said, reacting and masking his confusion with ease. He took the phone and began texting.
"Afghanistan or Iraq?" He asked, not looking away from the phone.
"Sorry, what?" John asked, shocked.
"I said Afghanistan or Iraq"
"Afghanistan, how could you know that?"
"I use to play the violin at late hours" Sherlock said, ignoring his question "I also spend days without talking, would that bother you?"
John blinked, confused.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Potential flat mates should know the worst of each other"
That left John in a shocked silence.
"Well, I have to go, I think I left my riding crop in the morgue. I'll wait for you to see the flat at 5:30 tomorrow afternoon"
And with that, Sherlock started to walk towards the door, only to be stopped by the authoritive voice of the army doctor.
"Wait" John said "We have just met and we're going to share a flat? We don't know anything about each other, I don't know the address, I don't even know your name"
"I know that you're an army doctor recently come from Afghanistan. You've got a brother that cares for you, but you don't want to go to him because of his alcoholic problems and that you're currently looking for a flat mate. I think that would do"
With that Sherlock turned around and went through the door. Then, he suddenly popped his head in and said:
"My name is Sherlock Holmes and the address in 221B Baker street. Afternoon!" He winked and left, leaving behind an stunned army doctor.
"Yes, he's always like that" Mike commented.
The next day, John went to see the flat. Even thought it was a total mess (was that a real skull?!) John loved it from the moment he entered.
He was about to comment on it when they locked eyes, feeling that bizarre connection again.
"There's another bedroom upstairs in case you would be needing two"
That sentence broke the moment and John turned to, saying that of course they'll be needing two. Sherlock smirked and turned to the door, where a man was entering in the same moment.
"Anything new?" Sherlock asked.
"Remember the man didn't left notes?" The man asked.
"Yes"
"This time did"
Something like a spark shone in Sherlock's eyes for the brief of the moments, and then he said that he would be following them with a serious voice.
When the man had left, Sherlock began to talk enthusiastically, giving a kiss and saying something about Christmas. Then, he strolled through the door, shouting John to make himself comfortable and not to wait for him.
John sat down on an armchair, and shouted at when she mentioned his leg, apologizing profusely afterwards.
"So you're an army doctor"
John turned around to find Sherlock leaning against the doorframe. They locked eyes and there was that spark again.
"Yes I am"
"Any good?"
"Very good"
"Seen lots of horrors I suppose"
"Yes I did. Enough for a lifetime"
"Want to see some more?"
Johns blood rushed with excitement. as he answered.
"Oh God yes"
How did you find it? This was first meant to be a one-shot, but it got too long, so I added another chapter that will be posted soon.
Review please! XD