SHERLOCK I, II, III & IV • #wattys2016

John Reveals the Story

The doors opened and the two marched out. “All right, John. We’re taking a trip to Liverpool and sniffing this pub out. You get yourself a drink, I’ll wander about.”

“Sounds like a good idea. But what if you get yourself in another fuss that I can’t help you with?”

“You have remarkable timing, John, if there’s a thing to go wrong, I’m sure you’ll be there before I breathe my last.” Sherlock hailed a cab and they boarded it, each piecing together the picture their own way. Sherlock was certain that John had left the war for more than an injury, and John knew that Sherlock would pester him until he laid out the truth, which he knew Sherlock wouldn’t even believe—the backstory would be “too simple”. John closed the cab door and Sherlock rattled the directions to the cabbie.

As they sat in silence, John’s hand began shaking. Such a tremor hadn’t been seen in years on the doctor’s hand. Sherlock noticed immediately. “Your hand’s shaking, John.”

John exhaled forcefully and placed his other hand on top of the disturbed one. “I didn’t even notice it.”

“Is there something I should know?” Sherlock questioned as he fixed his gloves over his fingers. He looked over at the soldier, whose profile had pulled together in an expression of deep concern. “Are you all—,”

“Sherlock, not everything has to be explained to you.”

“Even if the information could save lives?”

John shook his head and chuckled in short breaths. “Don’t manipulate me, Sherlock. I don’t need to know about the lives I can save. I know we’ll do our best to help them. But you have to know that you had your Moriarty. This is mine.”

“So, you remember him?” Sherlock edged closer to John and turned his ear in his friend’s direction. He fidgeted when he couldn’t identify the exact feelings stirring inside of John.

John’s head dropped and his eyes found the scenery outside the window. “Of course I do. I just couldn’t believe his return. In simple words, he was a traitor to his country. I was the only one who could stop him because—,”

“You were friends with him, weren’t you?”

“Oh no, I was never friend’s with him. We had an understanding and we respected each other. But, I was the only one he listened to.”

“Sounds like my kind of man. Can’t wait for you to introduce him to me! However—well, we’ll discuss more when we arrive at the club. I have so many questions!” In great enthusiasm, Sherlock pumped a fist in excitement at the situation.

John laughed through his nose and shook his head fervently. He looked over at Sherlock, who acted like a joyous child in a candy shop. “You’re such a slag for these things. Honestly, I would love to see if you could find another hobby.”

“A hobby is a diddly-old-lady term, I live in these cases. They’re the breath in my lungs. Though, “slag” is a good way to put my relationship with my work. But, I’m getting a feeling that you’re romancing it as well.” Knowing he was correct, Sherlock flashed his crooked smile.

“Well, sure, I enjoy it. I don’t really have anything else going on in my life.” John took to looking out the window again and his thoughts wandered to the memory of Sarah.

“Speaking of life, have you talked to Sarah lately?”

John’s brow furrowed and he turned to look at his friend. “You read my mind.”

“Of course I didn’t! I read your body language. When you get that hang-dog look in your eyes and stare out the window with your shoulders dropped, hands in your lap, and feet crossed, I can only guess that you’re thinking about a woman. But not just any woman because you wouldn’t have faced your back completely to me, you were thinking about someone close. And the only person I can think of that you’re possibly still emotionally attached to is, Sarah.”