A/N: Hey there. Here is chapter 4! Sorry about the wait :(

I hope you enjoy it. This format of sort of strange story telling will end soon. When John and Sherlock and meet it will be more like an actually story with description and not paragraphs that are about things that happen months apart... yeah.

Fair warning, this hasn't been corrected by my beta yet.

ALSO OMG ANNA YOU'RE SO NICE AND I FORGOT TO MENTION YOU LAST CHAPTER AND I'M SO SORRY BUT I LOVE YOU AND YOUR REVIEWS THANK YOU SO MUCH

Oh yeah, and you might have seen those huge ass hate reviews that that one person did... yeah I might have 'accidentally' pissed them off when I called them out for being a complete misogynistic ass and hating on a friend for no reason. Whoopsies. Any who, just ignore them, literally everything they wrote makes no sense, but if you are looking for a good source of entertainment it is kind of fun to read them, at least I thought they were funny. :P Also, I would like to thank that hater because because of them and their reviews I actually met an awesome person that is super duper nice and supportive (you know who you are ;) ). Thanks... whatever your name was, fox something of something or other, for being an asshole.

NOW ONTO THE STORY... :D


Chapter 4

John sits patiently, mother's hand in his, in the hospital's waiting room. The room's walls are lined with colourful plastic chairs and all around are scattered children's fake telephones, toy cars, Lego blocks and dulled crayons. Funny how everything looks pristine and clean, yet John cannot shake the feeling that all of the toys are coated with germs. Normally he did not mind such things, but he keeps his hands firmly held on his lap.

"John Watson," calls a nurse in a monotonous tone.

He and his mother stand up; the nurse looks them over, and then motions them to follow her. She leads a little ways down the hall to a closed door. She lightly knocks upon it and a there comes a muffled, "Yes," from the other side. It opens with a push from the nurse and she says, "Dr. Hals will see you now."

"Um, thank you," John manages awkwardly, and the nurse gives him a another glance, which the nature of he can't quite determine, though it doesn't seem pleasant, and with that she strolls away. John turns back to the door and leads his mother in behind him.

A man sits behind a desk with papers in hand and thin-rimed glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. He looks up as they enter and immediately lays his sheets back down and pushes his glasses back up, standing to greet them. He reaches over and takes a firm grip on Mrs. Watson's hand, as she feebly shakes back.

"Hello, I am Dr. Hals, and you must Mrs. Watson," he lets go of his grasp on his mother, and turns to John, "and your son, John."

He smiles and John tries to reciprocate but he doubts it comes across and sincere as he hopes. He is just so tired; he wants to get this over with.

"Yes," he replies.

"So, what exactly is the problem here? I see you described it to the reception but… I'm afraid I don't completely understand."

In answer John simply raises his left hand from his side, and gently begins to remove his band. Dr. Hals gives him a questioning look, but when John holds out his bare palm to him, he understands, and looks quite taken aback.

He hesitates before saying, "And you never…"

"No, I've never even met anyone called Sherlock," John interjects.

"I… I've never even heard. You're only six-teen?" he asks looking up from his intense gaze on John's palm.

"Yes."

"I don't… We'll have to do a full medical checkup first, then… You'll have to visit a mark specialist then. I'm afraid there is not much I can do," he explains.

Dr. Hals stands and leads John to a room where he can extract a urine sample. After returning with a small bottle and John strips to his pants for more standard tests, measuring height, tapping knees, checking heart beat, Dr. Hals clears his throat and John pulls his shirt back over his head.

Mrs. Watson looks at the doctor expectantly and he retakes his seat at his desk, across from her. "Well, I don't know what to tell you, your son is in perfect health for his age. There appears to be no problems. I suggest you visit a marks specialist for further tests. I know-"

"These mark specialists aren't actually qualified doctors, are they?" John's mother interrupts.

"Uh, well no they aren't actually medical doctors but I'm sure they are very qual-"

Suddenly Mrs. Watson stands, collecting her purse. "Okay, I think I've heard enough of this. Come on, John."

Dr. Hals looks startled and begins to speak again, "I-"

"Thank you for you time, Doctor." She does not sound angry, but with unexpected authority and it is clear that the conversation is over. With that she leaves, a slightly stunned John trailing behind her. She had not taken charge of anything like that since John was five and another boy had hit him. He didn't say anything until, when his mother was dressing for bedtime; she saw a large purpling bruise on his side. She made John tell her who was responsible and was so angry she directly called the school and mother, demanding something to be done. She hadn't done anything of the type since then.

They walk in silence, past the waiting room, the secretary, and into the parking lot. Only when seated and fasted in to the car seats does Mrs. Watson hesitate and finally break the reserve.

"John, we'll figure this out, and we don't need to pay any 'mark specialists' to tell you that they don't understand and that this has never happened before… We'll figure this out."

John only nodded solemnly in response, pointedly staring straight ahead. His mother sighed and after a moment started the car.

{***}

John's father dies a year after.

He is hit by a drunk driver one late night, after taking the family out to a special dinner. Ironically, it is exactly the push John's older sister needs to drown herself in alcohol. She had always had an addictive personality.

John pulls back her hair and pats her back when she comes home on late nights, completely pissed, leaning over the toilet, emptying her stomach. He puts her in bed, shuts up all the blinds so no light will bother her when she wakes and leaves her a large bottle of water and headache medicine on her bedside before he bikes to school.

His mother takes a different approach to dealing with the pain of loss. Nothing. She has virtually become a shell. John makes her tea in the morning and kisses her cheek goodbye everyday as she sits still at the kitchen table, staring with blurred eyes at nothing. John becomes the mother and father for the family.

His mark is forgotten because his sister is too drunk and his mother to empty to care, and he can't afford to spend any more time worrying about it as he does for his broken family.

Janice leaves John because he had become to busy for her. John hardly registers the change.

John is always tired. He's become almost as hollow as his mother, only preforming mandatory task out of habit and need. Wake up, make tea and breakfast that won't be touched, change for school, check on Harry, kiss Mum goodbye, bike to school, endure four hours of school, fake smile, pick at lunch, pretend to listen to Chris and Adam's banter, endure two more hours of school, bike home, make more tea, check on Mum, homework, make dinner, stay up to wait for Harry to come home, take care of sick Harry, put her to bed, sleep for a few hours, wake up, make tea...

The only thing that makes John feel remotely better is biology class. John wants to be a doctor, but he knows he never will be able to afford medical school, and his grades aren't good enough for a scholarship. He wants to boost his grades with extra classes, but he has to stay home for Harry.

He takes a job at Domino's to support the family. It's very little pay but it's good enough for now. He is a delivery boy. It is not as fun as it sounds. The worst moments are when a happy father opens the door to a big house and calls to his happy family to pause the happy family movie because their pizza is here and a happy child tags behind him, holding a happy little dog, excited for pizza, smiling. He always gets a bigger tip at these houses, but it's not worth it. He never quits. Bills have to be paid, or at least as many as he can.

One night Harry doesn't come home. John goes looking for her at her regular joints. He pushes past the pulsing, sweaty, dancing bodies until he reaches the bar to find Harry downing another shot. Harry is stumbling and slurring swears at John, telling him to leave her alone. John grabs her and tries to leave but another boy grabs him. The boy is larger than John and has a hand on Harry's hip. John tells him to piss off and tries to pull Harry away. The other boy doesn't like that. He hits John, and John falls to the floor. Harry is freaking out now. John pushes himself up and sees red. He jumps the other boy and beats him, size not deterring him as he's completely sober and the other is buzzed and uncoordinated. He throws punch after punch, until the boy is groaning in pain and blood is rushing from his, apparently broken, nose. John leaves the boy on the ground and grabs Harry again. His knuckles hurt and veins pulse with newfound adrenaline. It temporarily dulls the constant ache in his chest.

{***}

After he finishes school, John has no illusions. He still has no money to continue his studies. His hopes of ever being a doctor were never plausible. Anyway, he has to take care of his family. Harry is twenty-two and still hasn't moved out. His mother has not changed since the first year.

John's world is turned around one day when he sees a flyer for the army. An idea sparks inside him.

A month later he enlists, he is going to be an army doctor, training is in a few more months. Now he gets to be a doctor like he always wanted. He doesn't tell Harry or his mother.

When he does tell them, a week before departure, Harry throws a fit. His mother does nothing.

"John, you can't just leave!" Harry shouts.

John stands across the kitchen from her, rage now coursing through him too.

"You aren't in charge of me, Harry! I'm eight-teen; I can do what I like! This has nothing to do with you!" John yelled back in retaliation.

Their mother sits unresponsive at the kitchen table, only shaking slightly.

"You're so selfish! You can't just leave us! Look at Mum!" Harry gestures to their mother. " You can't just leave her! You can't just leave me!"

John stared at her in disbelief for a moment. "I'm selfish? I've been taking care of BOTH of you for almost three years now! Whenever you came home drunk and vomiting, I was the one that put you to bed and fed you! I've been the one taking after Mum! I've been working my ass off for years just to buy food, and what have you been doing? Going to the pub with your friends and getting pissed just for me to look after you afterwards! And then when I found something to actually do with my life, you tell me I'm selfish! I'm the selfish one? No, YOU'RE THE SELFSIH ONE, HARRY! I'VE DONE NOTHING BUT DO EVERYTHING FOR YOU TWO SINCE DAD DIED!"

Angry tears stain Harry's face and their mother begins to rock back and forth.

John leaves.

{***}


A/N: Okay yeah that wasn't meant to be angst or sad or whatever... but it just sort of happened. Sorry, John.

Thanks for all your follows and favs and reviews ;) I appreciate every single one