•John's POV•
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December 28th
6:47 p.m.
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Harry pulled up to the curb, getting out of the car and leaning against it. She has my dirty-blonde hair, my cerulean eyes, and my thin lips. Many mistake us for twins, but she is in fact five years older.
"Heya, Johnster!" She noogied my head, messing up my hair. I said nothing.
"John? Everything okay? Usually you'd have some kind of snide remark. What's up?"
"Take me straight to St. Bart's," I instructed flatly, "There's a friend I have to see."
Her mouth gaped slightly, "Well gee...of course! Right away!"
She opened the passenger door for me, circling around the front to climb in her side. She started the car as I slammed my door. Harry didn't speak the entire time we drove to St. Bartholomew's Hospital, she just beelined all the way there.
She stopped abruptly in front, "Go on in. I'll wait here...call if you need me, okay John?"
I nodded curtly and rushed in. The secretary kindly asked, "Name?"
"John Watson. I'm here to see Sherlock Holmes," I pray he's still here.
"Of course," she smiled at me, "Room 221. He's not awake yet, but he will be soon."
I breathed a sigh of relief. Room 221. Isn't that hilarious.
I walked in, only to find a middle-aged couple with two boys, looking in their 20s.
Is this his family?
"Who are you?" The woman asked, appalled. I stammered, "Er, I'm...John Watson. I roomed with him at Baskerville...I'm a friend of his."
His parents, if they are his parents, nodded slowly. I think they know.
I sat on the chair on the opposite side of his bed.
I almost cried when I saw his eyelids flutter open, and those crystal eyes reflecting the ceiling light once more.
"Mom. Dad," he muttered when he saw them, then turned to his brothers, "Mycroft. Sherrinford."
"Hello, brother dear," they said in unison. Eerie.
"Hi, Sherlock," I squeaked, overjoyed.
He turned to me, perplexion etched on his face, until he finally uttered, "Do I know you?"
My heart stopped, my words catching in my throat. All hopes dropped into my stomach and burned in the acid of my despair.
"Do I know you?"
Of course he does! Can he not remember?
I pondered over what to say, "Uh, we met once, briefly. You won't remember me, but I'm a smalltime family friend. Just making sure you're okay."
I felt choked when he smiled normally at me, "That's very kind of you."
I smiled back, pretending it didn't hurt. Nonchalantly, I left the room to find a nurse.
"He's awoken," I told the man, who stammered a moment before starting to room 221. I stopped him, "But...he doesn't remember me."
"That's right," nurse 'Williams' - as said on his name tag - said calmly, "He's got...amnesia. There are certain things he won't remember, and probably never will."
I nodded, "Right."
I followed Nurse Williams back to room 221, where he stood at the foot of Sherlock's bed. I remained in the door frame.
"So, Sherlock, what do you remember?"
Sherlock shrugged, "My name is Sherlock Holmes, I am 16 years of age, I go to Northumberland Catholic Private School with my two older brothers, and I want to be a detective."
Nurse Williams nodded, "Good."
He then turned to me, "What's he missing?"
"Me, Baskerville, being a greaser, being gay..." I muttered. So much important stuff is lost. Forever.
Williams nodded slowly, then turned back to Sherlock, "Well, you seem to be okay. You're free to go, once we get you ready."
I left. It's best I just go - his family will take him back now, I'll just fade into the backdrop. Maybe he'll dream of me, but not know why. Maybe I'll come to mind every so often without explaination. The idea comforts me.
Only a little.
"John," I heard a voice - his voice - behind me. Did he remember? Is he really back?
I turned. Tall, dark hair, porcelin skin, sharp cheeks...but the eyes are too dark. It's Sherrinford.
"I'm sorry," he said when he reached me, "He forgets everything mom and dad disowned him for. They'll take him back now. This is for the best, I do hope you can understand."
I nodded, blinking away tears, "Yeah. You're right - he needs a family, more than he needs me. Just...treat him right. Promise me that."
Sherrinford put a hand on my shoulder, "Of course. I'll bring you up sometimes, maybe one day he'll remember."
"No," I warned, "If he remembers me, he'll remember everything. It's best he just forgets. He needs his family, he needs to be loved."
"What about you?" The elder Holmes murmured quietly.
"I'll get by," I insisted, but under my breath I whispered, "Eventually."
"I'll say goodbye to him for you," Sherrinford dipped his head, "And it may bring comfort to know he'll do good from now on."
I nodded quickly. He'll go on to get a proper education, find a nice girl to marry, become the great detective he's destined to be. He'll be successful, and he won't just be a good man...
He'll be a great one.
*THE END*
**But do not fear! I did promise a Chapter 30. There is an Epilogue!!
Remember, y'all just keep being y'all, and thank you so much for reading this far!!!!!!!!
It means the world, all your fun comments and generous votes. I never thought I'd get this far.
I still think my writing is shit.
xoxo, Garnent•.•**
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A Scandal in Baskerville High
FanfictionJohn Watson is 16 years old and he's already an orphan. Sherlock Holmes is 16 and he's already been disowned. Their world collide in Baskerville School for Orphaned Children, and when brains meet brawn, will the outcome be gentle or volcanic? Or may...