Guns were fired, bullets were flying threw the air as men screamed to one another. This was the battlefield. Battlefield was just another way of saying ‘living hell on earth’.
Front line doctors and medics moved were they were needed. They tended to those who were slightly wounded and brought those who needed serious care back to base camp. Dr. John Hamish Watson stood by a fellow doctor, his gun drawn as he stood on standby. She was helping the seriously injured man enough to get him to base camp alive.
“Hurry up!” He called back at her, turning his head slightly.
“Eyes forward, soldier!” She called back at him. He scowled and turned to face her completely, lowering his gun. He didn’t care for the brunette woman sitting in front of him to much. Not one bit. She was to bossy for being a Lieutenant. In fact, to bossy for being /his/ Lieutenant. He was a Captain so he clearly out ranked her.
“Did you just give me an order, Lieutenant?” He replied in his ‘I-out-rank-you-give-me-some-damn-respect’ voice.
She opened her mouth to say something when gunfire cut her off. John blinked in surprise and watched in horror as life left her hazel-brown eyes and a bullet hole sat in-between them.
He turned around, his gun drawn. Another gunshot went off and the bullet lodged itself into his left shoulder. Everything went black.
When the army doctor opened his eyes he stood, looking up at the rooftop of Bart’s. His heart was racing as he stared up at his best friend, Sherlock Holmes.
“I’m a fake.” The detective choked out.
“Sherlock.” John had noticed that the detective was crying as he spoke. ‘Dear, god.” He thought. ‘The man’s rubbing off on me.’
“The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade, I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson and Molly. In fact, tell anyone who will listen to you, that I created Moriarty for my own purposes.” Sherlock spoke and anger rushed through John.
‘You’re lying.’ John thought blindly.
“Okay, shut up, Sherlock. Shut up. The first time we met—the first time we met—you knew all about my sister, right?” John spoke in a rush, his voice strong though.
“No one could be that clever.”
“You could.” John blinked, taken aback when Sherlock laughed slightly. He paused before he spoke again. ‘Thinking.’ John noted quickly.
“I researched you.” Sherlock spoke and pure blinding disbelief filled John. “Before we met I discovered everything that I could to impress you. It's a trick. It’s just a magic trick.”
“No,” John couldn’t believe those words. He just couldn’t at this point. “alright, stop it.” John started walking to the hospital.
“No, stay exactly where you are.” Sherlock commanded. “Don’t move.”
John raised his hand and backed up to his original spot in the road. “Alright.”
Sherlock’s hand was outstretched, almost as if he were reaching out to John. He was crying as he spoke. “Keep your eyes on me. Please, will you do that for me?”
“Do what?” Confusion had filled John.
“This phone call, it's...” Sherlock paused. “It’s my note. That's what people do, don't they? Leave a note.”
A horror filled realization filled John. He wasn’t believing that either. “Leave a note when?”
“Goodbye, John.” The doctor’s heart stopped.
“No, don’t-“ Sherlock hung up his end of the line and John lowered his mobile from his ear and yelled. “Sherlock!”
When Sherlock jumped John felt as if the world had slowed and his mind replayed the image a hundred times within seconds. “Sherlock…” He whispered to himself.
Blackness engulfed him.
He shot up from his bed, pants and gasping for breathable air. He was sweating, his shirt drenched. He looked around the room for something familiar, something to tell him the nightmare was over. ‘Not Baker Street.’ He noted, panic filling him. He heard a voice outside the room. ‘Harry.’ The panic left him.
John put his back to the wall, letting out a shaky breath as the coolness from the wood froze his wet back. He brought his knees up so his elbows could rest on them. He buried his face into his hands and sobbed quietly. That was by far his worst nightmare ever.
After awhile he calmed down and he sat quietly. His voice was till raspy from sobbing and lack of breath earlier as he spoke/
“Don’t be dead.”
