John woke up slowly several hours later, which was unusual for him. Unusual in that he usually did not sleep so long without interruption, whether real or imaginary. He stretched and yawned, blinking contentedly. Did he actually get some solid hours of sleep? John shrugged and got out of bed. He had things to do today, he couldn't worry about something good finally happening to him.
As soon as his feet hit the floor, he knew something was different. It took him a second to figure out what.
John felt good.
Not just good, he felt fantastic. He stretched a bit to test out his leg. It was still stiff, of course, but it didn't ache nearly as much as usual.
How long had it been? How long had he been living with that near constant throbbing, muted pain? Since his injury. The incident that got him discharged.
That time, twenty years ago. It felt like only yesterday he was fighting. Fighting to save lives. As many lives as he could in that pointless, stupid war. War? More like a child's squabble between politicians.
But what did he know?
John was just a soldier. A doctor. Who was no longer fit for duty. Now he was useless. Now he was alone.
Shocked, he shook these thoughts out of his head. He shouldn't be thinking about that now. Now he actually felt well and somewhat whole. Now he needed to enjoy the feeling while it lasted. Which he did not believe would be for long.
Right now, he needed tea.
Determined to think positively, John stood and limped to the kitchen. It wasn't until he checked his stock that he remembered he needed more tea. At first John was disappointed, but he decided to look on the bright side. A good borrowing trip was exactly what he needed right now. A little adventure. Not that borrowing from this particular bean was much of an adventure. John had chosen this house to live in for a reason. The bean he stayed with lived alone, worked at late hours, slept in, was laid back, and generally never noticed when a few small things went missing. This way, John could borrow either in the early morning or late at night without much fear of being caught. The long hours where the house was entirely empty were especially helpful given his bad leg slowed him considerably. During the middle of the day, when the bean was home, he relaxed, occupying himself with whatever he could. In other words, being completely bored out of his mind or plagued by nightmares and daydreams of the past. The frequent borrowing trips, John was convinced, were the only things keeping him sane.
Pulling on his hand made boots, John grabbed his backpack and cane and left the small area he called home. He made his way through the walls until he reached the right spot. A small section of the wall that he had cut out in the kitchen so he could borrow food when he needed it. Pushing against it gently, the piece easily came out. It was shaped like a diamond to match the pattern of the wallpaper. John set it on the ground, which was actually the counter, and hopped out. He was behind the large toaster oven, and for a moment John stood still. Listening for any telltale signs that a bean was nearby. There was nothing but the sound of the great grandfather clock tick tick ticking away the time.
'The bean must still be asleep,' John thought.
So he emerged from his hiding spot and began making his way across the counter. Approaching the sink, John slowed down. The bean's box of tea was on the other side, so he had to watch his step. One wrong move and he could find himself in for a very difficult climb. There was space between the wall and the back of the sink just wide enough for him to travel across without too much difficulty. John made his way over, careful to avoid slick puddles of water. When he reached the other side John went straight to the tea. It was a box of earl grey, nothing fancy. The bean lived a simple life as did John so he had nothing to complain about. Without further ado he lifted the lid and climbed inside.
John propped the lid open with his cane to let the light in. He needed to be able to see what he was doing. The tea bags came in sets of two. Usually, there was a lone one, from when the bean had one cup but didn't have time for another, that he could grab quickly. However, that did not seem to be the case this time so John had to separate a pack himself because he did not have room for two. This task proved to be more difficult than he anticipated and kept him there longer than he should have been. It so engrossed him that he hardly noticed the sirens. When he finally finished, John grinned in victory, but it was a victory short lived. Just at that moment, he heard the pounding of many feet and muffled shouts from outside. But it wasn't until they stormed inside that he began to panic.
That only lasted a second, however, before his instincts kicked in. John quickly grabbed his cane and pulled the box shut, sinking into darkness and relative safety. Now he could only wait.
For hours he was stuck there. A great commotion was going on outside and it took him a while to discover what it was all about. But, from snatches of short conversations John managed to gather that this was now the scene of a crime. A murder to be more specific. The bean who had lived here was now dead, and the police suspected foul play.
This came as quite a shock to John. He could hardly understand why anyone would want to kill the bean he had been living with. He had seemed like a very peaceful fellow to John. So why? And why now, of all times? John sighed, it was just his rotten luck to get stuck in a tea box right in the middle of an investigation. Just as he was beginning to think that he was never getting out, John heard someone's heavy footsteps draw uncomfortably close to his hiding spot.
John held his breath.
Whoever it was was actually leaning against the counter directly across from him. John could hear the ruffle of his clothing and the creak of the counter as it settled. It was terrifying.
However, after a moment he calmed down considerably. John, surprising even himself, suddenly felt the urge to take a look. Just a peak, to see what was going on. He had been in the dark so long, he didn't think one quick look could hurt.
So, the long buried side of him, the side that couldn't resist an adventure, revived a little. After several deep breaths, he slowly reached up. Pushing the lid ever so gently, John squinted as the sliver of light hit his eyes.
He couldn't see much from this vantage point, but John did make out a few things. The bean was a man, with greying hair. He had his back to John, however, so he couldn't make out his face. The bean shifted back and forth, as though he was uncomfortable. Scratching the back of his head, he finally sighed in resignation and pulled out his smartphone. The bean dialed a number and held it up to his ear.
It only took a few seconds for the person on the other side to answer. Though John couldn't make out that side of the conversation, he heard the other very clearly.
"Sherlock?"
The bean sounded surprised. But it was nothing compared to the shock that that one word sent coursing through John's system. He fell back, stunned. It was just a name, but to John it was so many memories he had tried, and failed, to forget. For a long moment, he felt numb. Then reason kicked in. Sherlock wasn't that unusual a name, was it? Surely there were plenty of beans known as Sherlock. Still, John was severely shaken. Once he got it into his head that it was not the same Sherlock, however, he was able to recover enough to listen again.
"We've got a case. Really nasty business. Apparently suicide, but it seems a bit strange. I was hoping you might-"
The bean was interrupted and seemed very put out by it. There was a long pause and he made several motions in the air like he was strangling an invisible person. Whoever he was talking to was greatly aggravating him.
"We caught them in the end, didn't we? And what's more-"
He seemed to be arguing with the other person. And was apparently losing.
"Whatever. Look, I'm texting you the address. Get here or not, it makes no difference to me."
He hung up, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He muttered some things under his breath that John didn't quite catch, but he got the distinct impression that they were not pleasant.
Another bean called him away and John was left alone with his thoughts. For a second, just one second, he allowed himself to consider the possibility that this Sherlock was the very same Sherlock that he had known. The same boy he had spent many pleasant hours talking to. The same friend he had met all those years ago.
And for one second John hoped beyond hope that it wasn't.

AN: next part may take longer for me to write. There is Sherlock deducing things involved and I still have no idea how I'm going to do that. But in any case I hope you guys enjoyed this one. Thanks for reading!