-Starfleet Academy-
256 Years Ago
'John Hamish Watson
John Hamish Watson
Yes…
His name is John Hamish Watson.
Never forget.
My name is-
is…'
A brief silence haunted the mind. His palms started to warm once more with irritating heat . His forehead glistening with sweat underneath unkempt curls that have long lacked its luster. Time began to slow once more, his heart pumping a bit faster - the clock above him seemed to tick louder…
He then gave a trembling sigh.
'Sherlock...Holmes. My name is Sherlock Holmes.
His name is John Hamish Watson.
John
John
John.
Hamish
Hamish
Hamish.
Watson
Watson
Watson.
My name is…
My name...is…'
Fists pounded against the wall behind him, causing the ceiling to rattle dangerously, but they soon returned to their clutching positions against his cranium.
Fingertips dug harder as he felt more information slipping away.
Before, the genius detective have had the luxury of choosing which sort of knowledge were worthy enough to retain in his great and magnificent brain. Now, however, he had to fight his way through the torturous hell that had manifested inside his self-corrupting head just to pull out his own name.
'My name...Sherlock Holmes…
His name...John Hamish Watson.
Never forget.
Whatever may happen...never forget.'
Sunken and blank cloudy eyes began to fixate themselves deeply into the blackness of the room. The faint outline of the steel sliding door was the object of his preoccupation as he traced the edges of the door and continuously watch the beeping red lock lights glow like a devil's eye.
Everyday he would wait.
Wait for the pain to pass away, wait to regain his composure, and wait for a certain doctor to barge in nervously and obviously worried by his absence and dare to take the crumbling madman into his arms.
This was the only comfort he sought - what he was desperate for.
This was why John Hamish Watson was the only precious knowledge that was left inside the detective's abandoned mind palace, now in ruins. A name that had surpassed his own.
'My name...does not matter to me any more. I would rather lose sight of my own identity than to lose the slightest detail of him. John Hamish Watson carries with him the cargo of our past - our rather unusual yet exhilarating adventures together - our memories. I owe him my life...'
Quick, anxious shuffles of footsteps were heard behind the very door dead eyes had the will to focus on. Careful knocks were answered by unchanging silence, but yet they both knew what to expect. As the great door opened, a sudden, comforting warmth began to fill the dark and foreboding room. He felt it rush over his skin, defrosting him of the cold that penetrated his body and the madness that had spoiled his mind.
'His name is John Hamish Watson
my blogger
my doctor
my best friend - and I owe him my life.
Never will I ever forget...'
A/N Short teaser for what awaits. You guys deserved it.
Think of this as a I'm-sorry-for-the-month-long-hiatus gift ehe
Note to those who might not recognize the setting: This is somewhere around after Storms of Sentiment during Sherlock's gloom-n-doom phase.
Reviews are helpful and welcomed! :3 Enjoy and shall we begin?