Fic: Private Entry
Aug. 15th, 2012 05:30 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Author: PipMer
Characters: John Watson, Mystery Character
Rating: G
Genre: Gen, angst, friendship
Spoilers: Reichenbach
Word Count: 856
Summary: As he sits in a cafe updating his blog, he is surprised by the appearance of someone unexpected.
A/N: If this looks familiar, that's because this is a revised scene from one of my WIP's. The setting and POV have been changed, but the effect should be the same. I wanted to see how it would work as a one-shot, and I was curious to see how this version would be received. Just trying to flex my writing muscles a bit. Thank you for the indulgence.
15 December, 2012
Private Entry
Well. It’s been awhile since I’ve posted anything here, and this one will remain private. I don‘t know if I ever will get back to publicly posting anything. Nothing seems to happen anymore.
I’m still not acclimated to the London weather, it seems. All those years in the Afghan desert must have convinced my body that sun and dry air should be the norm. The dampness likes to insinuate itself into my bones at the most inopportune times.
It’s not just the weather anymore that I find… unsettling about the city. It seems to lack vitality and purpose now, the very things that used to make my blood sing. Was it really only six months ago that I had possessed everything that I could ever want? Now it’s just… gone. I think I’ve finally come to terms with the fact that the miracle I had begged for is never going to happen.
I’ll be the first to admit that, after his suicide, I rapidly spiralled out of control. My bouts of drinking could have rivalled a certain family member's. It was only after having woken up in a pool of my own vomit for the third time that I decided it was time to return to therapy. Yes, therapy. I can hear him in my head even now, in that distinctive voice of his.
Tedious. Unnecessary. You didn't need it then, and you don't need it now.
Whenever this happens, I shrug it aside as best I can. He’s dead, he can no longer tell me his opinions on the way I live my life. At any rate, it seems to be helping, a bit. I’ve even started going to group therapy; been meeting some people who can relate to what I’ve been going through. I can’t tell people the whole story, of course. Who would believe me? But I’ve found a touch of solace among people who can understand the crushing grief that has been consuming me.
It surprised me, at first, the effect his loss had on me. I’ve been a soldier, both in Afghanistan and London – both of them battlefields, in their own way. I’ve lost friends before, many of them good friends, many of them close friends. I know what it’s like to have a band-of- brothers’ bond, a comrade-in-arms mentality, where everyone is willing to both die and kill for each other. My life had been saved more than once, and I saved more than one life.
But somehow, this was different. He found me when I was broken, and he breathed life back into me. It was just the two of us, living and working together, for the longest time. My life started to revolve around only him, and he quickly became my best friend.
I have lost many people to death, but I have never before lost a best friend.
Sentiment.
Yes. Sentiment indeed.
Well, at any rate, I think I’m going to try and move forward. I leave for my group therapy in a few minutes, and I’ve met someone there. She’s petite, with short russet hair and sparkling blue eyes. Her name is Mary, and she’s an au pair. A year ago she lost her husband of just three months to a rare form of leukaemia. So not recently bereaved, but still struggling with grief and its aftermath. Enough commonality without taking advantage of her in a weakened state.
Good God, I’m starting to sound like him.
Anyway, tonight I’m going to ask her out. No reason not to, and there’s no longer any mad genius around intent on sabotaging me. Could be good.
So, until next time. Who knows, maybe I’ll make the next entry public.
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He leaned back in his chair, legs thrust out in front of him and arms raised above his head as he let out a drawn-out yawn. He rolled the kinks out of his shoulder as he settled back in his chair, one hand reaching for his coffee and the other snapping his laptop shut. He glanced around the café as he took a sip, grimacing at the bitter taste. Really, London coffee left a lot to be desired. The cup was set off to the side as he stuffed his computer into its case and slung it around his shoulder. Reaching for his cane, he started to rise from his chair, his eyes meeting those of the person just entering the building. The man nodded politely at him before making his way to the counter.
He froze as recognition dawned on him. His legs turned to jelly as he forced himself to sit back down. He had never expected to cross this man’s path again, although he really shouldn’t have been surprised. They did reside in the same city, after all.
The last time he had seen this man, it had been through the sights of his sniper rifle. The man he had been ordered to kill if Sherlock Holmes didn't take a swan dive off of St. Bartholomew's rooftop.
The man known to have been Holmes's 'heart', otherwise known as Dr. John H. Watson.
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Date: 2012-08-15 11:33 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2012-08-15 12:26 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2012-08-15 12:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-15 06:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-15 01:03 pm (UTC)I have gone on thinking about it for an hour, however, which must be counted as a success. I wondered whether, in the WIP, Moriarty had picked ?Moran specifically because of his parallels to John, as part of his general obsession with Sherlock, and if so how his "friend" reacted on realising why Moriarty was interested in him. I also wondered if he'd been a mercenary rather than a regular soldier, since he'd missed the London winters - though aren't the Afghan winters rather colder than ours? (Try this (http://www.mapsofworld.com/afghanistan/weather-in-afghanistan.html) for weather conditions.)
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Date: 2012-08-15 03:06 pm (UTC)The last time he had seen this man, it had been through the sights of his sniper rifle. The man he had been ordered to kill if Sherlock Holmes didn't take a swan dive off of St. Bartholomew's rooftop.
The man known to have been Holmes's 'heart', otherwise known as Dr. John H. Watson.
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Date: 2012-08-15 03:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-16 12:44 am (UTC)Yes, the blog posting is indeed being done by the sniper (in my headcanon, Moran).
You have a very good point about making the parallels between John and Moran more subtle; I agree that that would probably improve upon the story, perhaps making it more believable and delivering more of an impact at the end. I'm always happy to receive hints that would improve my writing.
Thank you for providing a link to weather conditions; perhaps I'll change it a bit so that it's the dampness rather than the cold that John has difficulty with.
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Date: 2012-08-16 01:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-16 07:13 am (UTC)I had to reread this a bit to get it. Awesome, awesome twist.
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Date: 2012-08-16 08:29 am (UTC)Thank you for the kind words.
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Date: 2012-08-16 09:35 am (UTC)And then the last part was disconcerting, i read it again and no sens at all until i read the comments and i reread it and think the part of his thoughts of Mary, because Sherlock would never thought that of her, he would thought she was dull and he was better with him thinking on cases
But i think the sister thing is maybe too much, you could put sibiling so you misleed anyway and it could be a brother in the end
But i love it because i always thought that Moran and John are the other side of a mirror like Sherlock and Moriarty are.
So both John and colonel Moran are loyal to their mad men, they really need them when they came into their lifes... And they both will equally grieve them as a widow, because there is no one who can be like Moriarty, no one like Sherlock, how can you possible replace that especially in a crack shot adrenalin addict, Loyal soldiers needing of porpuse, of war and broken in a world were no one would possible understand them, until Sherlock and Moriarty were the solace the lifeline of this two men.
And i really like the idea of Moran wanting to date Mary Morstan in steed of John, maybe he won't want to marry her, but i understand the same appeal for him
This was brilliant
What is the wip?
Now i want to read it!!
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Date: 2012-08-16 07:20 pm (UTC)Very clever---and the writing is polished. Thank you!
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Date: 2012-08-17 04:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-16 09:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-17 04:34 am (UTC)This little fic earned me my very first Sherlock rec; really boosted my confidence a bit ;)
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Date: 2012-08-17 09:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-18 12:07 am (UTC)Did you by any chance find this through the 221b recs? It's my first Sherlock rec, and I'm so excited about that :)
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Date: 2012-08-18 12:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-05-26 12:34 pm (UTC)I so didn't expect that even though I came in knowing that this story was not what it seems.
Awesome! :D
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Date: 2013-05-26 07:57 pm (UTC)no subject
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