Disclaimer: I am not Stephen Moffat or Mark Gattis or the BBC or in any way possible and so therefore do not own this interpretation of Sherlock Holmes ... unfortunately.

Author's Notes: Written for a prompt on the BBCSherlock kink meme which called for a Rowing!AU. And so here we are boys and girls - our favourite characters are about to get wet and wear spandex for the duration of this fanfic as they go riverside. I do hope you enjoy it. I'm having fun writing it.

Summary: John Watson is a lightweight rower who sustained a lat injury, preventing him from rowing the season. Meanwhile, the Baker Crew, the pride of Yard University, is out of another cox due to the difficult Sherlock Holmes. Can John Watson go from rower to coxswain to win the Championships? AU

Riverside

He was on the ergo when it happened.

The whir of four other ergo fans were beside him as John Watson moved up and down the slide. Control and strength rolled in one as his legs sprung off the foot stretcher like a coil: well-oiled and ready to start at a moment's notice. It was a consistent movement, with each stroke pulling down that number: that split, as the metres carved away, going lower lower lower.

The end was in sight for John Watson and he was going to gun it down like no tomorrow. If - no, it was a when, because he was going to nail this ergo he'd make the 2nd Lightweight Four for Yards University, and then slaughter everyone at seat racing in two days and then rip through the season. He just had to keep that consistency, keep that movement going - not panic. Not let his mind run and just hold that goddamn number.

Up and back, up and back, sweat dripping down his back, face flushed and breathing laboured as he fought for that split. A grunt escaped his lips as he geared himself for that three hundred - the wind, the end, the bugger-yourself-up-so-much-you-can't-breathe-or-walk, his last chance to show that he deserved to seat racing for that crew, that he could do this, and then - he slammed down and ripped the handle back, emptying the tank.

Fierce determination spread across his features as his entire body tensed with excitement. The distance growing smaller and smaller as his split jumped down two points, still making sure to get that length, that crucial length and sitting back on that, getting his quick arms away and smooth body rock over and again again again.

Rowing is continuous, consistency and life - you keep going back for more even though it hurts - that is the mantra of a rower: to keep reaching for that little extra, to keep going until the end for yourself, the crew and the squad. This is what charged through John Watson's mind as he hit the last hundred. His heart was hammering, his eyes were blinking away sweat and his breath was sucked from him as his muscles screamed at him, burning. Just a little more, three more - wicked pain shot up his arm, and he gasped, the handle flying from his hands and crashing into the machine while John felt his body flung back.

His back hit the metal slide and he cried out in pain, as his vision blinked and blacked away. His shoulder was pulsing, aching and twisting and ripping as he lay there, gasping because it hurt so much. His tears were choked in his throat and he couldn't breathe, and he had …

He twisted to the side - somehow - and vomited: yellow bile and his breakfast combining onto the blue carpet, while the coaches rushed towards him, trying to lift his broken body off the machine as tears ran down his face, and he tasted bile, failure.

John Hamish Watson, third year Medical student at Yard University, was on an ergometer when he tore his latissimus dorsi muscle in his back and was out for the rest of the rowing season, and maybe his life.

TBC

Author's Notes: Comments are like John giving you hugs in cuddly jumpers - but please do tell me your thoughts. It would be very much appreciated. Anyway I hoped you enjoyed reading, and this hasn't been beta'd.