A/N: So, in this chapter we will get to hear from John's point of view a little bit, but the story will be mostly written in third-person P.O.V. I took the waking up with a nightmare part from Sherlock, but the event where they meet is planned out in my head.
Disclaimer: (read by Sherlock) The author does not take ownership of me or anything related to me, so we will not have to make these anymore. Thank God.
...Johhhhn~! HEY, JOHN! Could you buy some more milk?!
(Third-Person P.O.V.)
Hands. Screaming. Gunshots. Blood. That was all he could remember of the nightmare before he woke up in bed, surrounded by a pool of sweat. It was as if he had been soaked under a waterfall of his own perspiration overnight. He was not in Afghanistan anymore, and none of the bones in his body were broken at the moment. His left leg, however, pained him and caused his limp. He was told that he had PTSD and there were only four words he used to describe such a condition. Pain...in...the...arse.
Dr. John Watson was his name, and he returned from the war with an injury not too long ago. He walked with a cane, much to his distaste. He was never a man who desired extra attention, but he nodded politely at people who acknowledged his limp. It was a drag, though the doctors and therapists had proclaimed that it would get better soon. John cursed to himself irritatedly, wondering exactly what "soon" meant to those people.
He sighed and got out of bed, unable to sleep any longer. When he made the mistake of looking back towards his bed, he was reminded of how lonely he was without a room-mate. He was a lot friendlier towards people for sure and sometimes he had a few people to drink beer with, but he very seldom hung out with them. He didn't know them that well and they had other, closer friends.
He decided to go to the park to sweep the cobwebs out of his brain and try to get his mind off the fact that he was alone. It was 5 AM, but he could care less. After all, in the war he had to get up much earlier. He stepped outside into the dimly-lit streets of London and strolled in the direction of Hyde Park. It took a while to get there and by the time he did, dawn illuminated the city a little more.
John watched the sunrise and its emblazoned array of colors: red, pink, orange, purple, blue. Of course, keeping the typical weather of London in mind, he knew it wouldn't last. After all, as poet Robert Frost put it, "Nothing gold can stay". It was then, within that moment, that he noticed a quiet man on the bench nearby.
The man gazed listlessly at the sunrise with an almost expressionless face and kept completely still except for the gentle breeze whistling through his hair. John could not help but feel a sort of connection to the man, as though he knew he had seen something like this before. Then he knew: he reminded him of him. It was because there was a familiar feeling they both experienced that hid secretly behind their eyes: loneliness.
John often stared for hours at something when he was lonely as well, and the man's eyes compared to the rest of him looked so...sad. The right thing to do was to invite himself to sit on the bench with the man, and that is precisely what John did. He might not have smiled often, but he was very kind and caring to a majority of people. The man turned his head a little at the sound of the creaking wood next to him before looking back at the sunrise. They sat like that for a little while until John broke the silence.
"Err...hi," he said timidly. The man simply nodded and continued to watch the sunrise. John groaned inwardly. Why was small talk so freaking hard?! "Beautiful morning, isn't it?" he asked. The man turned to him slowly, an odd expression on his face.
"Well...yes and no," he answered candidly. John raised an eyebrow out of curiosity.
"How come?" he asked, trying not to sound too nosy. The man thought for a minute. Then he replied,
"On one hand, no, because I had to get up early and leave the apartment since Mrs. Hudson was cleaning it and there are no crimes for me to solve today. On the other hand, yes, because I am looking at a nice sunrise and there is someone to keep me company while I do so, for once." He smiled at John, who only reflected back wonder.
"What's your name?" he asked. The man extended out a gloved hand.
"Sherlock Holmes, the world's one-and-only consulting detective. You?" he answered.
"I'm Dr. John Watson, the world's one-and-only crippled cynic," said John. They both cracked up at that bit of dry humor.
"Touché," Sherlock replied. Then he looked at John for real. "Why didn't you ignore me or throw an insult at me like other people usually do?" he asked. John shrugged.
"I dunno. There was an empty spot and it didn't look taken, so I just...you know, went for it. I mean, you seem like a pretty nice guy to me, and - " Sherlock looked at him as though he weren't telling the entire truth. John sighed and stopped blubbering a random answer. "Well, to be honest, it was because you looked like you needed some company."
Sherlock nodded and exhaled as well. "Thank you," he said. John's heart fluttered for some weird reason.
"You're welcome," he said almost effortlessly. They conversed for a little while and watched the sunrise eventually become a cloudy day. Their connection grew stronger minute by minute with each word they spoke. Finally, they both got up from the bench and Sherlock handed John his business card.
"My detective work is all done for free. Call me crazy all you want, but I do it for the sheer joy of mysteries. Whenever you need me to solve a case or you wanna talk, just give me a call," he said with a wink. John had a funny feeling inside that the gesture was meant to be flirty.
The man began to walk away when all of a sudden, John thought of an idea. If John was lonely in his apartment and Sherlock was lonely in his apartment, then maybe -
"Sherlock! Hey, wait a minute!" he called. Sherlock stopped and turned on one heel, sending a minuscule cloud of dust flying behind him.
"Hm?" he inquired, asking what John was talking about with that one word. John hesitated for a minute before saying,
"Hey, um...got any room in your apartment?"