Warnings: Eventual Johnlock slash (Rating could go up), Unbeta'd, I'm not British, Bullying Mentions of drug abuse, AU
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock.
More notes at the end of Chapter
John Watson had always known he was intended to have a soul mate. He was one of the few very fortunate children that had their red threads at an early age. Everyone in his family knew that he was a special child. Unlike most children, John's thread was a crimson, fiery red that burned intently and endlessly.
When John was five, like many young little boys, curiously questioned the threads existence. "Why is it there? What is if for? Can I get tangled up in it if I trip?" His parents answered each question with a laugh and loving smile. His mother looked into his father's eyes and placed her hand on top of his. John noticed that the red thread connected them together. "The threads may tangle, they can knot, and they can twist, but they never break. With time." His mother continued "When your mate dies, the thread disappears but the love never leaves. You will always be connected to that person."
John nodded his head seriously, as if he understood every small detail and would commit it to memory. Although he was only five, he somehow knew that he would meet his love one day.
John was always a courageous little boy and at the age of eight he decided to "Go on an adventure!" He packed a small bag with some clothes, crisps, biscuits, and juice to follow his red thread. He told his mother and father of his plans and they bit back smiles and told him that they would come with him to 'help him search'. They followed the thread for a few blocks until John got tired, and a bit discouraged, and reluctantly agreed to head home with a heavy heart.
When they reached home, John broke out into tears. His mother and father quickly enveloped him in a tight embrace and asked him what was wrong. "I'll never find him!" John whimpered, "I'll never get to meet him, or love him, or see him! I'll be alone forever!" At that moment, John sobs even harder.
"Honey! You'll find...him someday! You're young now, give it time!" John blinks up at his mother's words and whispers, "You promise?"
"I promise. Now, dry those tears and let's see a smile!" John peers up at her and grins. As he wipes his tears, he throws his arms around her waist and buries his face in her stomach, "Thank you mummy." His mother places a hand on top of his head and pets his hair back, "You're welcome Johnny. I have a question for you though. How do you know that your soul mate will be a boy?" John looks up at her, giggles, and says, "That's easy! I can feel it in my heart!" With that, he runs to retrieve his little toy soldier that will soon occupy his time with strategic battles and rescued civilians.
Years had gone by and he is now eighteen. He has still not found his love, so he decides to become a soldier in order to pay for university and the obvious other reasons (God, Queen and Country). He has his things packed and says a goodbye to his crying mother and proud father. Harry is out somewhere, most likely sloshed, at a party or a pub, so a 'touching goodbye' would have to wait. He gathers his things and walks into the airport terminal, looks back on more time, takes everything in for a moment or two, turns, and then proceeds to board his plane.
War is hell. Whomever had said that was definitely correct. The hot Afghan sun blisters his skin. The cold reality that you could die any minute hangs like a dark, threatening shroud over the troop's heads. The bullets whirling past his head, the smoke from detonated explosives, and the adrenaline rush that comes from saving another person all add up together to make him feel alive. He has never felt so alive. He thrives under stressful situations, and he finally feels like he is making a difference. That is, at age 28, until he gets shot.
Lance Corporal James Mortimer of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers was lying on the scorching desert sands, bleeding out from a wound to his abdomen. John rushed over to the dying soldier and applied pressure to the wound and began digging out his supplies in order to patch him up. As John began applying the last stitch to the soldier's now marred skin, a shot rings out, and a kneeling army doctor falls forward and clutches his injured shoulder.
For a moment, all John can do is grit his teeth at the searing, white hot pain that seems to take over every functioning part of his brain and body. 'God, please let me live.' Seems to be the recurring thought for John as he lay, just like the soldier previously, bleeding out. Just before he loses consciousness, his red thread flickers. Once...twice…..and then fades away as if it had never been present. For the first time in twelve years, John's eyes well up and the tears slip past tightly shut lids as he silently mourns his loss. He's crying silently…...when one cries silently it's because they just can't stop.
John can hear his approaching fellow troops, but he couldn't possibly care at this point. John no longer has his life preserver. His thread was like a promise, no matter what hell he had to go through, no matter what pain or suffering or injury he obtained while deployed, he had been promised happiness. Now, he no longer has anything. His hope has been crushed and he couldn't care at this moment if he were to live or die. 'Please... Just let me die...' He would silently beg until he finally subcomes to the darkness with grief hanging heavily around his heart.
Unbeknownst to John 3,509 miles away, a twenty-three year old recovering addict lay held up in a hospital bed clutching his left shoulder and crying out from an unknown searing pain. The red thread would briefly make an appearance but would be blamed upon a drug induced haze. Its light quickly extinguishes and when later questioned about his outburst, he would claim someone had shot him.
Ten points to anyone who gets the Doctor Who reference! :D Also, Little John! I wanted to make him adorable. I hope I succeeded. :) This is John's story! Please bear with me because the next few chapters will be kind of slow. As always, thank you for commenting that seriously make my day.
To the guest reviewer who had left me a wonderful comment: Thank you very much! I'm very glad you like it and I hope to hear more from you, even if I don't know who you are. :D