Hi everyone! I think this is the point where I explain my UN-BE-LIE-VA-BLY long break between chapters by saying that I have been buisy with : litterally 7 school projects, breaking up with my boyfriend, a theatre production, preparing my new unit to make it inhabitable and being a mediater between my parents... but that would just be me being a sook so I'm just gonna say sorry and get on with the story.
-X- BellaD

John's P.O.V.

I was back in my youth, a paramedic, an army doctor. I had someone to help.

The stranger lay before me on his chest, a liquid rose spreading out from beneath him. I rushed closer to the victim, now close enough, I could see his sandy blonde hair and a face so young and weary that the bullet wound he had sustained merely seemed to be the straw that broke the soldier's back; or chest really, I thought as I looked at the victims injuries: Pistol sized entry wound, shattered ribs but a relatively clean through-and-through, the patient would survive with immediate medical attention.

I continued advancing on the victim, and continued, and continued... I couldn't stop moving towards the body and, with a numb kind of jolt, I realised I wasn't moving towards, but rather into the victim.
I struggled against the force moving me, not wanting to return to that broken body.
Wait... return?
It was then that I touched the body's hot, clammy skin and everything went black.

I blinked slowly, feeling my eyelashes flutter heavily against the cold, hard concrete my cheekbone was sprawled against.

I almost smiled at the accuracy of my unconscious diagnosis; instead however, my face contorted as pain seared through me. Now that my body had caught up to my mind I was filled with unadultarated anguish. As my body writhed in agony my mind was filled with the bullets and stench of sand and fear of Afghanistan.

Hours or days or seconds or years could have passed before a door I hadn't realised existed, swung open; revealing a dark silhouette.

How had I been so foolish?

Despite his unimpressive stature he cast a long shadow.

How had I convinced myself this was one of the Holmes brothers?

He leaned closer to me, bringing his flat, black eyes into focus.

How had I ever believed Sherlock cared enough to chase after me?

As the short man towered over me he finally spoke:
"Hello Dr. Watson."

I choked back the fear and blood clotting in my throat long enough to reply in a steady voice:

"Professor Moriarty."

Thanks for sticking by me! I PROMISE the next chapter will be up by next week!
PS. Thanks to bbmcowgirl and Sharmani for reviewing time and time again! (btw Sharmani, I changed the last chapter and fixed the mistake you pointed out :)