Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. Characters do not belong to me and unfortunately never will. No monetary gain is ever expected. Just move along...

Warnings for this chapter: Bad grammar. Mentions of war, violence, drinking.

Chapter one.

When one reaches a certain age, one tends to reflect upon his experiences, to reminisce about the events that shaped his existence, usually in a presence of grandchildren or unlucky younger relatives. Often, you could hear old folks saying, "this day/phrase/person/etc." has changed my life followed by a disjointed retelling of some event in their past. The words like "fate", "destiny" and "God's will" are often used together with hints at personal brilliance or some other outstanding quality.

I never believed in such things as fate and destiny. I grew up to a more practical, mundane as it were, way of thinking about one's opportunities. With effort, I believed, one can achieve whatever goals (though realistic) he sets. My own goals seemed clear to me - I was going to join Medical Corps, become as Army doctor. Help people, maybe save some lives along the way, then work as a surgeon in some veteran's hospital. Get married, raise kids, retire in a small community somewhere in Florida.

I also never expected to become famous. I never planned to get involved in the biggest conspiracy of the 21st century. I certainly never thought of writing memoirs or imagined that someone would care to read them. I was (and still pride myself to be) an ordinary guy. However, on an unremarkable September day, year 2002, I happened to meet someone absolutely extraordinary and nothing was mundane in my life ever since.

But, I'm getting ahead of myself.

As I said, I had my personal goals all planned out and I went about them in the most straightforward way. I got my Doctor of Medicine Degree at Edward Hebert University School of Medicine and proceeded to Medical Corps, for what I thought would be at the very least next seven years. Stationed initially as a reserve, I haven't expected to participate in military action for quite some time, however, certain well known events in September 2001 prompted my assignment to active duty. I was full of young enthusiasm and eager to prove myself by saving lives.

Idealist in me died on the very first day when I saw the reality of Afghanistan, the poverty, the disease, the anger. War brings out the best and the worst of people. Certainly, I've got to see both. I tried, to the best of my ability, to do what a doctor and a soldier is supposed to accomplish and while I often succeeded, each time I failed will stay in my memory forever. My colleagues in surgery told me that with time the mind gets dulled by the constant assault of horror images and death becomes just another reality of everyday life.

I suppose, it would have happened to me eventually. However, at the end of November 2001, barely a month into my deployment, I got shot during what was pretty much the first big military operation at camp Rhino south of Kandahar. The resulting injury aggravated by the blood loss and infection led to my long path to recovery and several torturous months later to honorable discharge from the military.

I came home with a psychosomatic limp, shoulder in a sling and an intermittent tremor in my left hand that rendered me useless as a surgeon. I came back to Bethesda simply because it was the last place I called home, but soon I could see there was nothing left for me there as well.

Truth be told, I was not trying much. I didn't look for a permanent place to stay, I refused to consider a change of my career. My closest and only family member, my sister Harriet, was unwise enough to express her personal views about the Afghan campaign and army in general. We argued. We were never on great terms, but this time it felt final when I left without telling her goodbye. I let myself wallow in my own misfortunes, spending my small pension on drinks and hotel.

It's hard to tell how things would have gone if not for a chance meeting. The one, I have to admit, changed the course of my life entirely. The kind of which I never believed could happen.

That day I woke up to raised voices, arguing, in the room next door. A woman was accusing her husband (boyfriend? no idea) of cheating. I would have gone back to sleep if not for the sound of a body hitting the wall and a muffle yelp of pain. In a few seconds I was kicking out the door to the room and a moment later the man was pinned to the wall by my healthy arm. He looked terrified. I can't remember what I told him, can't recall if he even answered. But I do remember with a startling clarity how the woman shunned from my outstretched arm, eyes panicked as if I were the one to hit her.

When I came back to my room later and looked at myself in a bathroom mirror, I understood why. I looked wild, unkempt. No different from those homeless drunks I used to regard as slums of society. It was despicable. Shameful for a former soldier.

I shaved. Put on fresh clothes. Turned on the phone my sister gave me and called her. We talked briefly and while it was not the most heartfelt conversation, we allowed each other to express concern and promised to talk more in future. Then I went to look for a job and lodgings. I didn't expect to find either on the same day. I took the J1 bus to the Stone Lake and sat on one of the benches, holding the cup of coffee, thinking. I was considering talking to my old professors, several of them could provide references and maybe suggest places to work. Suddenly, a voice came from behind me. Familiar voice.

"Watson! John Watson!"

It was Mike Stamford. We used to play together on a football team in my third year. Nice, soft fellow, Mike was never cut out for the army - and neither for football. Still, he was universally liked and, due to his skills as a surgeon, respected. He sat down on a bench with me and we told each other of our past five years.
Mike completed his postgraduate training and was offered a teaching position at USUHS - nothing surprising there. He also got married and was about to become a father. When he heard my tale, he shook his head. Even though I omitted a lot of things, he could guess both the pain and the disappointment. He was tactful enough not to bring up the obvious drinking issue as well.

"So, looking for a job, right?"

"Hopefully, I could find something, at least vaguely medicine related," I shrugged. "I'm not desperate to go into flipping burgers yet, but a few more months and I might be."

"I may be able to help with the job, actually. It's not much, just a TA position for now, but who knows... And it's easier to find something once you are in the system. Would you care for it?"

"Absolutely!"

"Then give me your phone number and address, I'll send you the application package today! Where are you staying?"

"Rodeway Motel for now. I was hoping to find something but the prices here..." I didn't need to elaborate.

"Not staying with Harry then."

"God, no. She's been... not very sympathetic."

"That's probably putting it mildly. She never approved our career. Military was military to her, doctor or not. Well, have you thought about sharing an apartment?"

"Look at me, Mike. Who'd want to share with me?"

Mike laughed. I was wondering if I should feel offended when he patted my arm.

"You know, you are the second person to say that to me today."

"And who was the first?" I asked.

"There is a guy I know, he's working at the chemistry lab at the hospital. He was bemoaning himself this morning because he could not get someone to go halves with him in some nice rooms which he had found but which are too much for his wallet."

"Well, that would be my luck right there! Can you introduce us?"

"Sure will. But on one condition."

"What condition?"

"You will not hold that against me."

I was surprised. The man just promised me work and was helping me to solve my housing problem. If anything, I was about to be in his debt for life.

"He is a bit strange," Mike said with a frown. "He can be... off-putting. And he can say things that leave long-lasting negative impressions."

"He can be devil's brother for all I care!" I said. "Or devil himself. I think I'm sufficiently thick skinned to tolerate a few insults for the sake of decent accommodations."

"Ok then." Mike got up from the bench. "Let's go meet Sherlock Holmes."

We walked to USUHS main building and down to the chemistry lab, which was at that time in the basement. I half-listened to Mike describing my future roommate, my head full of pleasant buzzing. The familiar walls around me felt welcoming. I could imagine being a useful person again. I had no idea, however, that I was about to embark on a most fantastic and dangerous journey that would be more interesting than surgery and will save more lives than a single doctor ever could.

"Sherlock?" Mike called out when they entered the lab.

The big room was not different from the last time I've been here. Several working benches, three fume hoods along one wall, several cabinets with chemicals along the other. Clean but in a state of a permanent working chaos.

There was a man at the far end of the room, working on adjusting an intricate setup of beakers, tubes and chromatography columns. He was wiry thin, tall, definitely over six feet. In some ways he reminded me a caricature of a mad scientist, though I could not precisely point out why. For once, he wasn't wearing a lab coat but was dressed in a dark suit, more fitting to a conference room than a lab. His mop of dark hair was without a tinge of grey and probably had been styled to look so carefully disheveled. But there was something in the way he moved about his flasks, some deep assurance and intimate familiarity with each tube that spoke of years of lab experience. Nevertheless, I could bet he was no older than me.

"A second, Mike. I think I might be able to..." with these words the man reached over for one of the clasps on the flask he had over the Bunsen burner and moved it slightly.

Suddenly, a cloud of yellowish smoke erupted from the reverse condenser, clearly signifying (to me) that something went terribly wrong. I was torn between a desire to help and the urge to take a few precautionary steps back, as I knew how unpleasant the exploding glass shards could be on your face.

Apparently, Mike was aware of that as well. Minus the desire to help.

"Umm, if it's the wrong time," he started, placing his hand on a door handle, "we could..." He was not allowed to finish.

"Nonsense!" the man exclaimed rapidly adjusting something in his bizarre setup. I saw the smoke was now flowing through several connector tubes into what looked like a chromatography column. "I was able to work and talk at the same time since I was six. I haven't lost the ability yet." He turned to us and flashed a happy grin. "I just found a way to improve the analytical method for the in situ measurement of atmospheric nitrogen trifluoride. Those guys in La Jolla will be furious!"

He looked at our blank faces.

"Oh, do keep up, Mike. One of the greenhouse gases? Rings a bell?"

I felt it necessary to help Mike out.

"Do you mean one of the measurements of AGAGE network? I didn't know they were still doing that."

"Of course they're doing that. Surprising that a recently invalided army doctor knows about the project while a university professor doesn't. I suppose Mike was at least bright enough to offer you that Enzymology TA position?"

"How did you..." I started, but then my brain caught up with what has been said. "Enzymology?"

If it was indeed the position Mike planned to offer, I'd be extremely happy. Biochemistry has always interested me, though I never got a change to deepen my knowledge on the subject. But how did this guy know I'd be looking for a job? Or about my occupation, or that I've been invalided home?

I was confused to a highest degree. Questions were exploding in my head and I couldn't figure out which one to ask first. I opened my mouth to express my confusion, but -

"Irrelevant," the man dismissed my attempts at asking anything. He took a few steps toward us and offered me his hand. Working without gloves. Another peculiar thing about him.

"Sherlock Holmes."

"John Watson," I said returning his handshake. As he clasped my hand, his eyes focused on me so intensely that I felt for a moment like a bug pinned under a binocular of an entomologist for a careful and thorough examination. I am not a very self-conscious person, but his eyes made me wonder if I still had a shaving cream on my face or if my shirt was properly buttoned.

He studied me for a few long moments and then asked abruptly, "How do you feel about the violin?"

"What?" The sudden change of topic was giving me a mental whiplash.

"The violin. I play it often." Before I could tell him that I do like the violin when it's well played, he nodded as if I've already spoken and continued, "I generally have chemicals about and occasionally do experiments. Would that bother you?"

I looked at Mike. "Did you tell him I..."

"Not a word," Mike answered smiling.

"Oh, it was obvious that Mike brought you to introduce me as a potential roommate. We just spoke about it this morning and it's highly unlikely that you are here to discuss experiments or use the chem lab. So, what do you think? We can look at the place tonight, around seven if you are free?"

Without waiting for my response, he walked back to his bench, turned off the burner, fiddled a bit with the clamps and tubes and then grabbing a coat from one of the chairs walked past us to the door.

"Sorry for being abrupt, got to go, I have an appointment at morgue in ten minutes. See you at seven." And he walked out.

My brain halted to a complete standstill. For a few seconds I was silent. Then the most urgent question floated in my mind.

"What about the address?" I asked into the space.

The door was flung open before I finished the sentence.

"Sorry, almost forgot," Sherlock Holmes was already wearing his coat and was tying a scarf around his neck. "The address is 221B Baker street."

He smiled at my undoubtedly dumb expression, winked and disappeared again.

I looked at Mike.

"Yes," Mike chuckled. "He's always like that."

Author note:

Well, it'll be a bit of a long one, hopefully for the first and last time.

Firstly, I apologize for all mistakes and incorrect things written above. English is my second (and barely developed) language. I know, it's not an excuse for my poor grammar but it's at least an explanation. I would be happy to correct all and any mistakes so feel free to point them out. I am looking for a beta, but I am not the easiest person to work with (I do feel a certain kinship with Sherlock and sadly in worst of his traits) but I hope I'll find someone eventually.

Second, though maybe I should have mentioned it first, I write this as a practice in language and storytelling. For my own and my reader's amusement I will be including a few lines from the original book here and there. Points to whoever sees them! I want to make it clear that this work is a fanfiction and no monetary gain is ever going to take place. I reserve the right to gain experience in writing nevertheless.

Third, the story is set in United Stated (oh, blasphemy!) I figured I'm committing a crime against English language enough not to add my attempts at making it sound British. Also, for the story I have in mind, it will have to happen in Maryland, near CDC if you get my drift. That said, I've never actually been to East Coast so I could be really wrong with all the places and descriptions just as much as I would've been writing about England. I beg forgiveness for that.

Fourth, I will add some explanations and line notes after each chapter, especially when we move into more obscure parts of chemistry and biology. I will be mixing fact and fiction and though I shall try to point out the facts, please do not feel any obligation to take my word for it. This will be, essentially, a work of fiction. All names and places and theories are fictional down to boot.

For this chapter, I have taken some liberties with the education of US Army doctors, mostly due to my lack of knowledge on the subject. The University mentioned does exist and it does provide tuition-free medical degree programs for future Med Corps. The "seven years" Watson is talking about come from the seven year-long commitment to enlist for people who take advantage of such tuition-free education. Google it if you are interested!

USUHS is Uniformed Services University of the Health Sciences, the nation's only federal health sciences university, operated by the Department of Defense.

The study that Sherlock mentions was done in San Diego, La Jolla, California and has just been published this June in Journal of Analytical Chemistry under the title "Automated measurement of nitrogen trifluoride in ambient air". So it is inaccurate to attribute it to 2002. Additionally, there is absolutely nothing scientific in the experimental setup that I describe here as well. The only accurate word used is chromatography. Not that anyone cares...

AGAGE is Advanced Global Atmospheric Gases Experiment network. Again, google it. It's a very interesting and important project.

And lastly, for those who cares, there is a part of John and Mike's conversation that is almost word to word as in an original novel. I think it's fairly obvious due to the word used (never heard of American saying "bemoaning" casually...but hey, why not!) And a few phrases when Sherlock and John are introduced to each other. Also there are several lines of dialogue taken from BBC's "Sherlock". I'm sure most readers could tell which.

Oh, and the cover image was taken from layoutsparks dot com and modified in Photoshop CS2 by me.

That's all for now. Thank you for reading!

Alexa

PS Sorry, one more correction. Apparently I posted an old version of Chapter 1 first. Which was incomplete. Apologies for that. Happens to the best of us, especially when lacking sleep and rushing too much. Hopefully now things are looking better :)