Quantum Entanglement enables particles to affect each other instantaneously across any distance. Entangled particles would remain connected even if they were on opposite sides of the universe.
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John Watson slowly limped his way down the sidewalk, one hand tightly gripping his cane, and the other carrying a shopping bag full of medical textbooks. Thinking back on it, he really should have double-bagged the books, as he could feel the plastic starting to give way. He sighed and thought about turning back and heading home. It was dreadfully cold, and he would much rather spend his evening sitting in front of a roaring fire, than lending his knowledge to an old classmate who was always a bit of an arse.
When John was in his last few years of secondary, he had his whole life planned out. He knew he wanted to be a doctor, and he wanted to join the army. He was quite vocal about his plans, so anyone who knew him then knew what he would become. After his return from the army, John could probably count on one hand how many of his classmates from that time he'd seen, but there was one who kept popping up.
Sebastian Moran wasn't the type of person John spent any time with at school. He was a bully, always using his size to his advantage, and John wanted nothing to do with him. Not that Sebastian ever showed an interest in being John's friend either. They both happily and successfully stayed out of each other's orbits for their school careers, and frankly John had forgotten all about him.
A few weeks after being invalided back to London, John was reluctantly doing a bit of shopping when he heard his name called through the crowd. He turned and scanned for a familiar face, the person who yelled his name, but he couldn't pick anyone out. None of these people could know his name. As he was returning to his business, he saw a stocky blond elbow his way through the crowd. John raised an eyebrow. Was this the voice he'd heard? Who was this guy? And how did he now John's name?
"You don't remember me, do you, Watson?" the blond had a smirk on his face, and was clearly amused at John's confused expression.
"No, should I?" John was in a bit of a strop already, transitioning back to civilian life wasn't easy. "Sorry," he added, somewhat belatedly.
The man chuckled, obviously not offended by John's brusque reply. "Sebastian Moran. We went to school together."
"Oh, right. Good. How are things, then?"
"Good, thanks. I figured you'd be overseas by now, getting shot at for Queen and Country," Moran's tone was condescending but John wasn't in the mood to set him straight.
"Yep," John replied blandly, just wanting the conversation to end. "I got shot."
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The next time John encountered Moran, he was sitting in a remarkably empty train carriage. He'd been held late at the surgery, so it had been hours since rush hour had finished on the tube. While he was exhausted from the extra hours, he was quite happy to not have the unpleasant feeling of being one of many sardines stuffed into a can.
He was sitting quietly absentmindedly rubbing his sore leg that hadn't sustained any injury, and so didn't notice immediately that someone had sat beside him.
"Didn't expect to run into you here, Watson!" Moran's voice was loud and echoed off the metal walls of the carriage. John forced a smile at him, wishing he was in his bed, sleeping.
"You're a doctor, is that right?" Moran didn't seem to be asking condescendingly so John nodded, briefly explaining that while he couldn't do surgery anymore, he was still working as a GP. Moran actually seemed interested, and spent the rest of the trip asking John questions about what he'd encountered as a doctor, the typical stuff as well as the weird and wonderful. John actually found himself enjoying the conversation, it was nice to talk about his accomplishments as a doctor without bringing up the war.
As the train slowed at John's station, Moran thanked John for the pleasant conversation. "Maybe I'll see you again soon," he chuckled right before the doors closed, leaving John at the station.
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There was a light knock against the door of John's office, and his boss Sarah popped her head in.
"Sorry to bother you, John, but there's a man here to see you. He says he knows you and wanted to speak to you."
John checked to see if he had any appointments coming up, then asked Sarah to bring him in. He scratched his head as he waited, assuming it was Moran and confused as to why he'd drop in at the surgery. While they'd run into each other a few times since the train, he wouldn't consider them friends that dropped in on each other.
Sarah knocked again before leading Sebastian in, and taking her leave. Sebastian dropped into the seat reserved for John's patients and rubbed his forehead with his hand.
"Watson, I've got something to ask you. You know your stuff when it comes to medicine, and right now I need someone like you."
John was confused to say the least, as it suddenly occurred to him that he'd never even asked Moran what he did for a living. "Need someone like me for what?" John asked, careful not to agree to anything with no knowledge.
"I do some work for this guy, right? He's a proper genius. Got a lot of huge ideas in his brain, and it's up to me to help him make those ideas into reality. Normally it's easy enough, but this time it's a bit above my pay grade. I was shit at biology in school, so that's why I'm asking you."
John sat silently and waited for him to continue. He watched as Moran began to fidget, tapping out a beat with his fingers on his knee.
"Do you know much about DNA splicing, John?"
The question caught him off guard. It wasn't a topic that John would have ever guessed Moran would know about, let alone discuss. He shook his head slowly.
"No, not really. I know enough about DNA in general, but splicing is out of my depth."
Moran sighed in response. "What if I said I have tons of information on splicing, but I can't make heads or tails of it? Could you understand it?"
John blanched. "What are you asking me, Sebastian?"
He sighed again before leaning forward in his chair and resting his elbows on his knees. "I guess what I'm asking is... Look. My boss wants to try his hand at splicing. Thinks he can use it to benefit the meat industry, don't ask me how. That's not my area. My job is to get it done. I had a professional in, and he was great. Really making progress. But he got mixed up in some seedy stuff in his regular life and he's been locked up. Domestic abuse, I think. Anyway, now I've got a load of records he kept, but no way to continue the work. So I guess that's what I'm asking. I have all of his work, and it's mostly finished, but I need someone to complete it. A couple weeks worth of work, that's all. I figured that with your medical knowledge, and his notes, it might be possible. I know I'm asking a lot, but I'm at a loss. I'd be able to pay you, of course. Quite a bit."
John blinked. Once, twice, three times. Then he sighed, "I can't make any promises. Even with the notes it could be out of my depth."
Moran's eyes widened and his face showed his hopefulness. He jumped up out of his chair and leaned over the desk towards John. "Of course, John, of course! It would mean a lot that you'd even try! You'll do it?"
John mentally kicked himself but nodded anyway. He could use the extra money, at any rate. "I'll give it a shot."
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Moran had written down an address as he thanked John for the tenth time before running out of the office. John scooped the address out of his pocket and squinted at the street sign ahead of him. Baker Street. Glancing down the street he saw a tall black door with a shiny gold address affixed to the front. 221B.
He limped to the door and slowly reached his hand towards the heavy door knocker. He steeled himself and knocked.
What had he gotten himself into?
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Please leave me reviews, they keep me warm. This fic will be eventual johnlock since I'll go down with this ship. I know there's an upsetting lack of Sherlock in this chapter, but I will fix that in the near future (like as in the next chapter)Thanks for reading!
