Alright, before I start this...Well, crazy story, let me tell you that I was forced into it. It's all a little messed up, I feel, and it's something that's rather difficult to believe. I'm still struggling to believe it myself.
Hi, I'm John Watson, former military doctor, blogger, and assistant to Sherlock Holmes. And here's the story of how I met The Doctor.
I'm not talking about a doctor, like me, I mean The Doctor.
He's… I mean, there's no way to describe him, really. He's brilliant, almost brilliant like Sherlock, but it's a bit of a different kind of intellect.
He's cold, sometimes. I felt it when I first met him. It's like he's a fire, raging through anything until he's hit a wall, and it dies off, slowly, but it dies. And he's amazing, really amazing. I've told myself not to compare him to Sherlock, that they're nothing alike, but somehow, that's impossible. I feel like he truly wants to help people, that for him, that is part of the work. But he can be so… it's hard to explain, and really, if you've ever met him, you know exactly what I'm talking about.
And he chose me, somehow. Of course, it wasn't anything like when Sherlock chose me, and I can hardly believe it's only been months since that cab ride, but time is different here. I've learned a fair bit about it, but by no means do I understand it.
What I'm trying to say is, for his own reasons, he chose me, told me to come with him in that funny Scottish accent of his and long tan coat...brought me into a world I never thought possible, all because of something Sherlock-bloody-Holmes, presumably, did. So I guess I have to thank you, Sherlock. You bugger. I thought we were done.