Well guys, how was that last chapter? Remember, I'm still looking for story ideas and constructive criticism. Here's the new chapter!

John Watson was very confused and disoriented, but he tried not to show it. It was never good to show weakness, especially when you were in a strange place with potential enemies. His soldier's instincts had been ingrained into him, and they weren't about to leave after 300 years of sleeping in ice. John warily eyed the soldiers (were they soldiers?) stationed around the room. He supposed it was wise, though. They had no idea of whether or not he was a threat.

He was, of course, but that didn't mean he would attack the Captain and his crew. John liked Captain Kirk and First Officer (he wondered what his rank was) Spock, but he felt a kindred spirit in Dr. McCoy. The doctor seemed to have a gruff exterior, but John suspected that a lot of that was an act. He had done some mandatory psychology classes at Bart's, and he suspected that the doctor had been hurt, badly, by someone he cared for, and therefore was grumpy to avoid caring about people so that he wouldn't be hurt again. Wow. thought John. I'm reading a little deeply into this. That's probably not even what happened!

John was startled out of his musings by the CMO walking up to his (what did they call it? Bio-something? Biobed!) biobed and saying, "Mr. Watson, we'd-"

"Dr. Dr. Watson."

The other doctor blinked in surprise and maybe a little respect, but continued. "Sorry, Dr. Watson, we'd like to run some tests, if you don't mind. It isn't everyday that we've got a three hundred year old superhuman in our Sickbay."

Dr. McCoy's drawling American accent (Southern, maybe? He wasn't so good at identifying the differences in American accents) was in sharp contrast to John's own crisp British one.

"Sure, I wouldn't mind."

Dr. McCoy nodded. "Follow me."

He led John down a maze of corridors, twisting and turning, passing people in red, blue, or gold shirts (and some aliens, John was going to have to get used to that) until they reached an elevator type thing, except there were no buttons to press which floor you wanted to go to. He was confused until Doctor McCoy spoke out loud. "Deck 5."

Dr. John Watson decided to start some conversation as they traveled down, deeper into the belly of the ship. "We had things like this in the 21st century. They weren't voice activated though, you had to press a button."

"Really?"

John nodded, and the man laughed. "Here I am, thinkin' that we had come so far in technology and all that other stuff, and all we can do is make turbolifts voice activated!"

"Oh," John said. "Is that what they're called? We called them elevators."

"Elevators..." Dr. McCoy tested out the word, then shrugged. "That makes sense."

"So, where are we going?" John felt comfortable enough with this man now to ask some more questions.

"We're going to the Medical labs, they're better equipped for the tests we'd like to do."

"Which are..?"

"An MRI, a CT, a blood panel, a strength test, an endurance test, an IQ test, and a pysch exam."

John let out a low, long whistle.

THE TESTS

John Watson lay on his back as the panel he was on slid slowly into the MRI scanner. It was so much like going into the cryotube, it wasn't even funny. His breathing quickened.

Dr. John Watson was his name, but all that the label on the cryotube that he would be spending an undefined length of time in said was 01. 01, his number. He wasn't a number, he tried to tell them, but no one listened to John. 01 was just a test subject, nothing else. Not a, god forbid, actual human being, because wouldn't that make it so much harder to do such unimaginable things to one? John became a number. 01. Why 01, you ask? Why not some long string of numbers, like 490133846 or 24601? It was because Dr. John Watson was the first. The first to be genetically engineered. But Dr. John Watson is ordinary!, you say. Dr. Watson has nothing special about him.

No, no he doesn't except for one thing- a friendship with Sherlock bloody Holmes. And Sherlock Holmes rather likes experiments. And so when the opportunity is offered, Sherlock bloody Holmes can't resist taking it. But nooo, Sherlock can't risk himself, oh noo, can't risk that pretty face with those cheekbones. So he volunteers his best friend (isn't he a great person) for the experiment in his place. Better to make sure it works on John, perfectly average, nothing extraordinary, and then if nothing goes wrong, he'll try it on himself.

And John could forgive things, he was very good at that, but maybe this one had stepped over the line. But that's what John was there for, wasn't it? Simply be there for Sherlock, and assist him in things most people couldn't. And one could argue that changing your best friend's genetic makeup fit that bill.

Dr. McCoy frowned. "Dr. Watson, are you okay?"

"Um, yeah." John blushed. "It's just that, um, this sorta reminds me of going into that cryotube. And you can call me John."

McCoy frowned. "Then I suppose you can call me Leonard."

John lay dead still inside the tube, knowing that if he moved a muscle, the MRI would be ruined. After about 10 minutes, the panel slid him back out again, and John eagerly got off of the the thing.

"Why were you lyin' so dead-still inside that thing?" McCoy (yes, he knew that McCoy had asked to be called Leonard, but he figured he didn't know the guy well enough) asked curiously. It was strange.

"Don't you have to?"

The CMO shook his head. "The scanner tracks the thing that it is scannin', you can move as long as you don't get out of the view of the scanner, you're good."

"Brilliant! In the 21st century, you HAD to lie that still, otherwise the whole test would be ruined."

McCoy nodded as he prepared the next test. "So, you're obviously from somewhere in the UK (1.), but where?"

John's eyes grew wistful as he thought about the London he knew and loved- the London he knew, deep in his heart that he would never see again. "London," John answered simply.

"And you said you were a doctor?"

John laughed a little bitterly. "Not by your standards. I was in the time that I come from, but I'm sure you've made so many advances in medicine and technology that I wouldn't know anything in your Sickbay."

McCoy turned to face and gave him a significant look. "I'm not so sure about that."

The doctor was still puzzling over that statement as he was inserted into the CT scanner. This one went smoothly, and before John knew it he was sliding out.

The next test, he knew, was a blood panel, so he wasn't startled when Dr. McCoy came over with something that vaguely resembled a device that drew blood. "This might hurt." the doctor warned, but didn't seem surprised when John didn't even blink.

He pulled a flipphone-like thing from his belt and opened it. "Spock, get your green-blooded ass down here to Medical Lab 2, I've got John here and we're running some tests. I've just drawn some blood, and figured you'd wanna run some tests of your own on the sample."

"Certainly, Doctor. Spock out."

McCoy left the vial of John's blood, dark red, on the table, along with PAD (he'd heard of the nurses in Sickbay call it that). "For the next test, we need to go down to the gym."

"So, how many people are on a ship like this?' John asked curiously.

"Hmm... I'd say 450 or so."

Dr. John Watson's eyes boggled. "Wow, that's a lot more than I expected."

Now it was McCoy's turn to be curious. John could tell that the CMO wasn't really a people person, he said carefully crafted sentences designed to draw a response. John had had lots of practice with this living with a high-functioning sociopath. "How many did you expect?"

John shrugged. "Well, I don't know how big this ship is, I mean, I've only seen a small portion of it probably." He looked to McCoy for confirmation, who nodded. "So... I'd say I was probably thinking 200 or 300."

Dr. McCoy snorted, but John could tell it wasn't mean-spirited.

After a minute or so of walking the corridors (chrome white, long, never-ending) the pair stopped in front of a set of doors, which automatically opened for them. People of many species (human being the dominant one, but there were others) were milling about, doing various forms of exercise. John braced himself for the questions (Who's this, doc? Whatcha doin with this guy, McCoy?) but they never came. He looked around and saw the crewmembers carefully avoiding McCoy's gaze, and John smirked inwardly. The guy probably had built up quite the reputation for himself. All of the weight lifting stations were full of buff men and woman working out, but they cleared out when McCoy gave them a look.

"So, um. What do you want me to do?"

Wordlessly, McCoy passed John a 50 lbs. weight. Wordlessly, John lifted it quite easily over his head. And wordlessly, McCoy marked something on the clipboard John hadn't realized he had brought with him.

Then McCoy passed him a 100 lbs. dumbbell, and again John could lift it with no trouble. 150. 200. 250. 300. It didn't matter, John could lift it. Eventually, the Enterprise didn't have single weights as high as the genetically engineered human could lift, so the duo was forced to pair up other weights to get a total. "Damn." McCoy said when they reached 750 lbs. "This is crazy."

Finally, at 1,050 lbs., John capped out. He was covered in sweat. "Alright," John gasped. "I'm done."

McCoy eyed John. "You know what, we'll leave the rest of the tests for later. I'll take you back to Sickbay so you get some rest and take a shower."

The doctor nodded gratefully and allowed himself to be led back to Sickbay where he was shown where the sonic shower was (not as good as a normal, water shower, but he'd take what he could get) by pretty nurses, but he was too tired to hit on them.

17:00, the time on the wall said. John felt comforted slightly by the military time, it reminded him of when he was in Afghanistan. And yes, he knew that no normal man would be comforted by war, but John had always been different. He quickly fell asleep to the sound of the nurse's quiet voices and the swoosh of the doors.

Jim Kirk watched John Watson as he slept, Bones and Spock at his side.

"His blood is the same as Khan's, Captain." Spock said quietly.

Jim said nothing at first, just watched the steady up-down pattern of the genetically engineered human's chest as he breathed in his sleep. "That doesn't mean he has the same homicidal tendencies."

"Captain, Khan was motivated by wanting his crew back. Mr. Watson could be the same."

"Dr. Watson, Spock. And I've gotten to know him a little. He seems like a good guy. Khan just seemed cold and calculating. John is... not." Bones interjected.

James T. Kirk dearly hoped that John didn't turn out like Khan did, because he didn't think they could stop Spock from killing him if that was the case. Guilt by association, Spock would justify it as. "We'll just wait and see what happens."

And Dr. John Hamish Watson slept on, unaware that there were three men less than four feet away from him that were discussing his fate.

Ok, so I'm feeling like McCoy was really OC in this chapter. Would anyone mind giving me some tips on how to fix that?

Also, did anyone catch the Les Mis reference? If you can tell me what it was, I'll give you a shout-out!

(1.) I don't know if they still have the UK as we know it now, but for the sake of this chapter, just pretend they do.

I AM LOOKING FOR STORY IDEAS AND CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM!

Please leave a review, it helps me so much!