Hey guys! I'm not dead!
Ah, quit booing. It'll happen soon enough.
I don't own this! Well, I physically wrote it, but I don't own the characters...
The timeline is messed up, I know... I do hope it's not too terribly confusing though!
Anyway, enjoy this chapter!
Moriarty was intrigued. He found himself looking forward to John's letter.
He had decided John was his until he was done figuring him out. Finding what makes him tick. Seeing what will make him scream. Finding out how he screams.
Moriarty was excited. He couldn't wait for this game to pick up.
Sitting in the warden's office, he found himself board. Suddenly he realized he knew only a minuscule amount about John Watson. He'd have to find more about him. And by him, he meant his pet.
He dialed Sebastian's number.
He picked up on the second ring.
"Boss."
"Hello, Sebby!"
"What can I do for you?"
"I need you to find everything, and I mean everything, you can on someone."
There was a pause and Moriarty knew Sebastian was grabbing a pen and paper.
"Name?"
"John Watson."
Moriarty heard Sebastian drop the phone.
"Seb? Seeeebbbby~?" Moriarty was confused, which didn't happen often. The only reason he would not immediately do as told is if he didn't want to… the only reason he wouldn't want to is if he knew the person. That wouldn't be a problem unless Seb thought he had to kill them, as well. Though, to Sebastian's credit, he always did his job. So, in conclusion, Seb must already know John, and be on good terms with him.
That would make getting information all the easier for his righthand.
"Oh, don't worry. You don't have to kill him! Yet."
The phone was picked up. "Understood, sir. I'll find everything."
"And even if I were to tell you to kill him, you would. Because that's you're JOB!" Moriarty yelled the last word.
"...Understood, sir."
"Good! That's all." Suddenly as if he had been talking about the weather.
The line was hung up before goodbyes. Not that there ever were any.
Moran sat at his computer. He rubbed his hands over his face. John was not in immediate danger… but if he was on Moriarty's radar, he was definitely in some kind of danger.
Moran sighed, then pulled up another tab. He spent the next hour compiling all the facts of John Watson.
However… as time went on, there was less and less. The only thing Moran could find was that he attended school, lived with Sherlock and was thirteen years old.
Moran searched for two hours. Those were the only things he could find. This was even more confusing. His whole job was research and security. If he couldn't find it, it didn't exist.
"Who are you, Watson?"
Moran was going to have to give his Boss this limited amount of information and just hope he didn't get fired or killed. Though, they were, admittedly, the same thing.
He would have to tail Watson for a few days to see what all the secrets were about. Starting tomorrow. He could keep an eye on him during and after school with little to no risks.
Sebastian Moran sighed once more. He needed to get out of this small flat for a while.
Maybe he'd finally go to the store. He had nothing but a box of stale crackers in his kitchen.
John didn't get around to the letter that night. Or the next day.
He didn't want to write another letter because he was afraid of the response he would get. The letters were due soon, but John couldn't bring himself to write. He wanted to ask someone what he should do, but he couldn't ask anyone without them telling someone else.
John felt trapped. Could he just not write a letter? But then his pen pal would not be given the chance to get help (not that John could really offer much), and John couldn't do that to him.
Plus, if John didn't write a response, James might think he scared him away. John was not going to let that happen. He sighed and pulled out a piece of paper and a pen.
Dear James,
Hello! I'm happy to have received a response from you! I know a few of my mates didn't receive one. Which is odd, isn't it mandatory? It is for us… if our teachers say it is. I'm actually a little upset about that. Our original teacher, who was fired-
John hesitated in writing why the teacher was fired. In the end, it didn't seem like something James needed to know. John continued with his letter.
-made it mandatory and is was nearly 50 points every letter! But our sub for the rest of the year said we shouldn't be exposed to corrupt people like you (no offence).
I tried asking the office if the sub could legally not give us the letter, they said yes. The school only allowed it. They didn't demand it. So I'm sending mine with my favorite teacher's class. He's great. His name is Mr. Moran. He helped me break into the sub's room and get your letter. He's not actually my teacher, but I wish he were! He's a very interesting person. He was in the army and was a sniper! He tells me stories sometimes. I don't know what I did to deserve his help, though. I wouldn't ever have been able to get this letter to you!
I made cookies to thank him. He likes chocolate chip the best.
Sorry, that was a long winded response. I just haven't been able to t ell anyone. So, I guess that kind of answers your first question…
Um, I don't know about a lot of friends… but I'm a friendly person who people consider a friend even if I don't consider them one. Wow… that sounds a lot more conceded on paper… Sorry! But I suppose Sherlock counts, Greg-
John didn't want to mention Lestrade's last name for privacy... He also didn't say 'Mr.' because he wanted it to sound like he had friend's his age...
-And Mrs. Hudson. I guess Mary is my friend, but I think she just wants me to be her boyfriend. Mr. Moran is defiantly a person I'd consider a friend, too! I have fewer friends than I thought... I have an idea! Since you only have one friend and I have only a few, do you want me to be your friend too? I think we'd make great friends!
"As long as you quit saying really weird stuff..." John said out loud. He wasn't going to write that, but he felt it should be added in some sense.
-I want to be a doctor because I've seen what the poorer parts of town look like. I've seen things most people are lucky enough to never see. I've sewn wounds (my own included). Even if I can't help everyone, I'm going to try my best.
My favorite color is red.
My turn for questions! What made you turn to crime? Who's your friend? How'd you get caught? Did you like school when you attended?
Last question, why do you keep calling the things I do 'cute'? I'm as far from that as possible.
Your Pen Pal,
-John H. Watson
P.s. I am not Sherlock's pet.
John finished the letter. He was kind of worried how easy it had actually been to write it. And how much he really wanted a response. He sighed and went to the kitchen. Sherlock had left some time in the early morning, leaving a note for John that he'd be home sometime around midnight and that John was responsible for the house and to go see Ms. Hudson for a while.
John sighed. It was Sunday, they were usually boring unless Sherlock had a case, but without Sherlock in the flat, it was downright suffocating. He wondered what Sherlock could be doing.
John stopped that train of thought immediately. It just made him envious that Sherlock probably wasn't bored.
John nearly wished he'd had school. He sat down on the couch with a bowl of cereal, turning the telly on as background noise. He decided to go down to Ms. Hudson after he got ready for the day.
He ate slowly. Thoughts consuming him. Who was James? Was it someone he'd heard about in the news? Why was John so fascinated by him? How badly would Sherlock react if he found out?
John's mind swirled around like that for a while. He looked up, surprised that it had been nearly an hour. He washed the kitchen up a bit, shuddering at the fingers in a cottage cheese container, before going up to get dressed for the day.
He hoped Ms. Hudson had errands for him to run. John really didn't want to be inside the whole day.
He walked down the stairs, wearing a standard jumper, some old jeans, and his 'everyday' shoes (he had ones for cases so his others weren't at risk of getting blood on them).
Knocking on Ms. Hudson's door, his mind wandered back to James. John really wished he could stop thinking about his pen pal, but he just couldn't.
He stood a moment longer before knocking again. Same result. No answer. He tried the door knob, it was unlocked. John was starting to get nervous. He walked in.
On the kitchen table he saw a note in Ms. Hudson's handwriting.
Dear John,
Sorry! Something came up with my sister. I'm at the hospital now.
I won't be home until late today, if I come back tonight. Please feel free to make yourself at home! If you leave, please make sure to lock my door. You still have your key, I hope?
-Martha
Well, that was something. John tried to look for signs of forced entry or a struggle, but he wasn't as trained as Sherlock, so if there were any signs, he missed them.
John sighed. He looked around once more, then walked out of the flat, locking the door on the way out.
He walked up stairs to grab his phone and wallet. He had a little bit of money from doing odd jobs around the block. John was on pretty good terms with everyone.
John decided to go walk through the park to pass some time. He never really got to anymore.
He double checked he had his phone set as loud as the ringer could go, and that he had his key, before he began his journey.
John thought of texting one of his friends, but he decided not to. It wasn't often he got time to himself, so John planned to take full advantage of it.
While he walked, John was alone with his thoughts. His mind circled back around to James. How could a man he's never even met be so interesting? So outside the box… he was reminded of Sherlock.
John nearly stopped walking. What if this was a test? What if it was Sherlock? If this was one of his little games to see how long it would take for John to tell him. But, it couldn't be, could it?
John was so caught up in his thoughts, he ran right into someone, falling to the ground.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" John hadn't looked up yet, slightly dazed, having the wind knocked out of him.
John felt a strong hand grab his arm, pulling John to his feet with no problems at all.
"It's not a problem, John." John froze. Speak of the devil and he shall appear...
"Oh, hello, Sherlock…" John finally looked up, seeing his flatmate's bruised face. So he had been doing something not boring after all…
"Why aren't you at home?"
"Well, Ms. Hudson wasn't there. She had to go to the hospital because her sister is there she won't be home tonight, probably… I was heading to… the park?" John looked at the ground, finding the cracks fascinating, he didn't mean for it to sound like a question, but he didn't like Sherlock's scrutinizing gaze. John was worried Sherlock would read his mind and see what he had been thinking not two seconds before.
"John, that sounded like a question."
"I was going to the park." John looked Sherlock in the eye, trying to keep his voice steady. It wasn't like he was confined to the flat… no matter how much it may have felt that way sometimes.
"Better. Now, you really must watch where you're going. It's no wonder you get kidnapped so often."
"I'll pay more attention…" John shuffled his feet.
"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some ducks to interrogate." John was confused, but realized that was the only explanation he was getting. "I'll be home a little later than originally planned. Will you be alright at home by yourself for one night?"
"Yes."
"Absolutely no parties, am I understood?"
"Yes, sir." John gave a mock salute, but he really didn't plan to have a party. There were too many body parts in the fridge to have people over. Sherlock smirked. They both knew there would be no parties.
"Come back home in one piece" John said over one shoulder.
"You too. The park can be dangerous."
"Yes. I may fall of the playset and break an arm." John smirked.
Sherlock huffed. "You know what I mean."
John softened. "Yeah. I do. Go be a badass."
"Watch your language. It's unbecoming of a young man." The edge of Sherlock's mouth twitched up, letting John know he was being teased. John smiled at him.
Without another word from either, they parted ways.
John sighed. It was just his luck. Now he knew Sherlock was doing something cool… without John! Suddenly going to the park seemed boring. John tried to think of what to do.
"I guess I could go to the store…" He said to himself. It seemed like the best thing to do. It gave him something to do while also being productive. They needed tea, some biscuits, and, as always, milk. For one reason or another, the milk was always gone within the first day or two of John buying it.
John just assumed Sherlock used it in some sort of experiment. It sounded like a Sherlock thing to do.
John got to the store shortly after, walking around, picking things up, putting them back, picking them back up. The usual. John just wanted to waste some time.
He had spent a solid forty minutes deciding if he should get one or two cartons of milk. He decided on one because he had to walk back to the flat with other groceries as well.
John finished getting what he needed and started the trek up to the register. Deciding at the last second to get the second carton of milk. One for Sherlock, one for actual consumption. The flat wasn't that far away.
He paid and left the store. Hurrying home without rushing. John wanted to get home, so he didn't drop anything, but once he was home, he didn't know what he would do.
Put the shop away, clean a little… then what? He had no homework, he had nothing he had to do, no one to cook for but himself.
As John was thinking, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Before he could turn around or react, he was pulled into an alley and his bags were on the ground, but that was the least of his worries.
John was slammed to the ground, his head hit hard. His attacker then slammed his head a second time, harder. Probably a slight concussion.
The attacker punched John in the face, once, twice, three times, a probable broken nose, then he hauled John up by his hair and roughly shoved him into the brick, face first so he still couldn't see his assailant. John's arm was twisting in a way that didn't feel right. Any more pressure and his left arm would be popped out of socket.
The guy had John's arms pinned behind him with one hand, and pushed his head harder into the brick with the other hand. John's arm finally gave out, being popped from it's socket. His attacker didn't seem to notice, or maybe he just didn't care. Either way, it hurt like hell. John screamed. Or thought he did. He couldn't tell.
The man leaned in close to John's ear and roughly ground out the beginning of a threat. "You tell that no good Sherlock-" The guy was cut off. Suddenly John was free. John fell to the ground, limp and barely holding on to consciousness
He looked up, seeing the new guy -he looked sort of familiar but John was dizzy and couldn't put a name to the face- punch John's attacker so hard he was knocked out cold.
John had a few seconds before he was unconscious as well. He was at the mercy of whoever this newcomer was.
The last thing John saw was the new person turn to look at his fallen body.
His last thought; "At least this wasn't boring. Too bad the milk exploded when it fell… I'll have to buy more later."
Then John was out.
Sebastian had gone to the store, while he was there, he saw John. His new target. Moran decided he'd start following John today instead of tomorrow, they were both already there.
Moran followed John around the store. It was annoying as hell watching the kid shop. He walked around, picking things up, walking a few isles over, turned around and then put said item back. It was annoying the first two times. The next three were infuriating. The kid stood and looked at milk for nearly an hour.
Sebastian was fed up. He was patient, it came with the job, but this kid somehow made it very hard to be patient. John didn't even seem to be doing it intentionally.
'Does this kid really have nothing better to do with his time?' Seb thought to himself. Then he though. 'No, I guess he wouldn't.' Sebastian refused to not be mad about it though.
Finally, finally, John walked up to the register. Only to turn around and get more milk.
Then, John left. He looked like he was struggling quite a bit, but he didn't seem bothered. Moran almost wanted to offer help, but then he'd have to make an excuse as to why he was there.
He paid for his groceries, then followed the same way John had gone, staying about thirty paces away. John didn't look like he'd notice if Sebastian were standing right next to him, but better safe than sorry.
Suddenly, John was gone from his sights. Sebastian had seen a hand pull the young kid into the alleyway. John's bags had been dropped and the milk was everywhere.
Sebastian sprung into action, weaving in and out of the crowd. He was a big man, but he'd had much practice, so he was there in less than twenty seconds.
It seemed he was twenty seconds too late, though. John had blood gushing from his nose, and he looked dazed. There was blood in his hair too, from what Sebastian could see. His arm looked wrong. Sebastian assumed it was broken, but he could get a better feel for the extent of the injuries on a few moments. After he kicked this asshole's ass.
He grabbed the attacker by the neck, nearly lifting him off the ground as he moved him away from John.
Sebastian wanted to kill the guy, but John needed help right away, so a quick, but powerful, fist to the temple was all it took for the asshole to be knocked out.
John looked up at him, but it was clear he didn't recognize him. Sebastian didn't know what to do… he couldn't leave the kid here in an alley, bleeding… Baker Street was a ways off… They were much closer to Sebastian's own flat.
Sebastian sighed again. It looked like he was going to be having a guest.
Forget being in danger from being on the Boss's list… this kid was the definition of 'trouble magnet'
Sebastian picked the kid up in one arm, and what was salvageable from both of their bags in the other. He knew John would be mad if he didn't grab anything.
Sebastian set out towards his flat.
Boss would want to know about this ASAP… but John needed help. That was priority number one.
Slight cliffhanger, I guess...
Sorry!
So, how was it? I intend to continue this, hopefully with more frequent updates...
We'll see.
Have a nice day!
~Miss Taken