johnlock oneshots

PTSD

The boredom was unbearable. My mind was racing faster and faster, making deductions about every little detail that was surrounding me.

Here, the single sock half hidden under the couch had been there for more than one week and had been worn for five consecutive days - yuck. There, the plate with the.. scones crumbs I'd say, has been let here by John three days ago when he was late to work, as shown by the toothpaste tube, still open next to his toothbrush.

I already tried everything to shut my mind off, but nothing worked. After hours of this, I was walking around the flat, trying to make as many deductions as possible, hoping that maybe it would smother my mind. Suddenly, one good thought crossed my head and I froze. John's room. A new place with new deductions to make. An untouched paradise surrounded by an ocean of boring things.

I ran up the stairs to my friend's room, and stopped just before his door, my hand on the doorknob. Isn't that something John would hate? Me, entering his privacy, invading his room? I was about to turn over, but just as I let my fingertips slip off of the doorknob, my mind resumed to storm around. I sighed and grabbed the doorknob again, twisting it open and before I could really realise it, I was standing in the middle of John's room.

After a few minutes of deduction through the room and a few (well, maybe more a lot) of new realisations about John and his life -let's just say that now I'm sure that he's definitely not straight- I was about to exit the room, my mind a little bit calmed down, when something caught my eye. How could I have missed this?! I thought that the afternoon would be waaaaaay more intersting than planned as I grabbed John's gun.

******

I was shooting at the wall. That was a great manner to spent the time. I was slumped in the couch when I heard John coming up the stairs. I shot at the wall once again.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here!" yelled John from the door.

"BORED" I shouted while aiming at the yellow smiley painted on the wall. BANG! BANG! BANG! John ran toward me hunched in two to avoid the bullets, his hands covering his ears and snatched the gun from my hand. At the moment it left my grip, I lost attention of what John was saying. I just stood up and went out after mumbling a quick excuse to John. Something crossed my mind and I had to go and check. Maybe we could catch the killer.

******

A few hours later, John and I were watching "The Hobbit : the desolation of Smaug" together after a case and poor John was so exhausted he fell asleep. I smiled and petted his hair. Even if both John and I weren't the biggest fans of the movie's adaptation of Tolkien's work, we still enjoyed the confrontation between Smaug and Bilbo and I was about to wake up my flatmate for that scene, but I stopped when I heard him whimpering in his sleep. He kept whimpering and began stirring and kicking around him, his movements more and more violents until he screamed like a wounded animal and woke up, eyes wide open and a veil of sweat on his forehead.

I felt my heart crumble when I saw my friend spring off the couch and run toward the sink to throw up. I joined my flatmate and took him in my arms, wrapping him in a tight embrace and letting him break down against my shoulder. After a long time without a word, John slowly spoke in a low, raspy voice :

"I was back there, at the exact moment when I was shot in the shoulder. There was gunshots everywhere and I was dodging bullets. But this time, they didn't shoot me. They came home once I was back here. They were looking for you. They were in the flat, holding you at gunpoint in your chair when I arrived. I had barely put a toe in the room when they shot you. They were waiting for me to enter the room to shoot you. It was dreadful. An abomination. There was blood on the smiley on the wall, the bullet ended its way right there." John was pointing the hole in the wall where my own bullet ended its way a few hours earlier.

This time, I didn't feel my heart crumble. It was my soul that exploded into millions of pieces when I realised it was my own selfishness that provoked the situation we were in, that made the man I loved going through a real Hell on Earth. I began to sob.

"I am sorry John, so sorry. I didn't think about it. I'm sorry." John didn't answer, but tightened his grip around me. "I love you John, and I'm so sorry I made you endure that. I promise you, it will never happen again."