A/N: Most of this fic is written, just need to fineline a few things, hammer out a few details. This is an AU- alternative universe- the characters meeting in ways you've never seen! Reviews feed the plot bunnies so don't be shy to say hello! As well as this site, you can find me on Wattpad, Twitter, Archiveofourown and many others, any place that can have me, really. Hope you enjoy this fic!
Always yours, Joss Teagan
John was choking down another mouthful of lager, considering his situation. He used to enjoy alcohol as much as the next man would, but seeing his sister ruin her life all the name of the next drink had made him wary of the stuff. He grimaced, cheap booze in an unfriendly pub was the best he could afford.
"You look like you're drinking poison. "
John scowled, looked at the man who'd slipped onto the bar stool adjacent to his. "This stuff's so bad, it might as well be," when the man laughed, John added "In fact I think I'd rather down a glass of cyanide. Would have more of a kick."
"You know, you're funny. The obvious poison to mention is arsenic, it's like everyone knows that one. But cyanide, that's good," The man rapped his knuckles on the bar to signal a drink, not taking his eyes off John. "Sparkling cyanide."
"Is that what you're ordering?" the barman joked and the man took his eyes off John to speak to the bartender. John went back to his drink, but soon the man was talking to him again. John wanted to tell him to fuck off, but the man, with his muscular build and craggy face seemed like the type who wouldn't appreciate that.
"So, if the drink isn't that good, why are you here?" He surveyed John over his glass, green eyes amused but watchful all the same. John didn't see any reason to lie.
"Got no money. No prospects. Bit hopeless, really."
"Oh yeah? What were you doing?"
"I was in the army. A captain, respected. One bullet to the shoulder, then I'm sent home with an honourable discharge. I've been here a few months. Feels longer." John glowered down at his glass as if it had been responsible for his unemployment. "It was a real kick in the teeth, you know?"
"Absolutely. I was kicked out too."
"You were in the army?"
"Yeah. Oh that's stupid, haven't properly introduced myself," He drew himself up to his full height, which had to be six foot three at minimum. "Colonel Sebastian Moran." They shook hands.
"Pleased to meet you, Colonel. I'm Captain John Watson. I was a doctor."
" A doctor, really? Could be useful. You know…" Moran took a slow sip of his beer. "My boss could do with a man like you working for him. I could show you the ropes, it wouldn't be a bother, after all, we're the same. Two good soldiers, stopped before we could become great, kicked out by Her Majesty's armed forces, cut down in our prime. This thing could work."
"Did you receive an honourable discharge too?"
"What I received was a metaphorical jackboot up my arse, that's what I received. But Watson, I realised I didn't have to stop and grow fat and stupid just because I wasn't a soldier anymore. There are still challenges, people to fight, battlefields. You and me, we're meant to be out there in the thick of it, not drinking this fucking bleach while our brains rot."
"Why do I get the impression that what you're suggesting isn't…exactly legal?" John slowly said.
"Semantics, John. We got screwed over by the government and nobody helped us. I suppose you're paying for your drinks tonight with some of your pitiful army pension. Well, if you decide you want to start living again, call me."
"You've giving me your number?" John frowned when Sebastian slid the scrap of paper across, bearing his scrawled name and number.
"One of many. I have a few phones."
"And how do you know I'll call? In fact, how do you know I won't inform the police about you?"
Sebastian smiled and shook his head, not looking at all bothered. "Because you haven't felt this alive in a good while." He slung a few bank notes on the counter. "There. Should be enough for the rest of your drinks tonight. Goodbye, John." And he strode away, not looking back.
When John got home, although he had no intentions of ringing that number, for some reason, he just couldn't bring himself to throw that paper away. He managed eight days until he dialled the number with shaking fingers.
"Yeah?" Sebastian's groggy, sleep-roughened voice was suspicious.
"Sebastian? It's John. John Watson…any chance that that job offer's still going?"