A Study In Pink Chapter 1

Gunfire, shouting, pain. Images flashed before his mind, a morbid video of memories not long cemented. 'Sebast-!' John leapt up from his bed panting, the images still raw in his mind. The feeling of danger and adventure still hung in the air. Then came the sudden realisation that he was back in England, he fell back onto the bed sighing and still panting from the shock in his dream. John's face screwed up, he felt like crying. The last memory had touched a nerve but he refused himself a single tear. Still ever the soldier.

His life now was boring, monotonous. Everything was grey, there was no longer any colour in his life. Everyday he did the same things, ate the same foods, walked the same routes. Nothing ever changed and nothing ever happened. Was this to be his life from now on? A never ending, repeating journey? His eyes fell on his cane and sighed. The constant reminder of his former life. He hated it, like he hated his leg, psychosomatic or not.

His therapist was an idiot. She continued to pester him to blog. As if writing down his boring life would somehow make everything all better. What a joke. Nothing ever happens to him and nothing ever would. In his mind he could not fathom someone who would want to read the posts of a man who does nothing everyday. Who feels life as stopped for him. He scoffed, letting the ridiculousness of the comment appear on his face.

Lestrade sighed. Another suicide, another press conference. He rubbed his hands together, clasping them in front of him as Agent Donovan read out her report to the eager vultures that sat in front of them. It was an unusual string of cases. Serial suicides all closely resembling each other but it didn't appear to be murder. He braced himself for questions he could not truly answer.

However it seemed it wasn't just the press who were paying attention to his conference as every time he seemed to open his mouth, the entire room would receive a text. A text that simply said "Wrong!". He didn't even need to think who it would be. He knew exactly who. So did Donovan, the annoyance in every part of her features. The Detective Inspector had no idea how he did it, it was a little bit impressive even if it was quite annoying. And he knew he was going to have to contact him whether he liked it or not. This was just too strange a case which needed an equally strange man to solve it.

John trudged along the same path he'd been now walking for a number of weeks. He tried to walk with determination, as if he was going somewhere important but he was only fooling himself. The ex-soldier was quite surprised to here his name spoken, so surprised he thought he'd imagined it. So he'd kept walking until the voice spoke once more. This time he decided he ought to turn and find out who was calling him. It was Mike Stamford. He raised his eyebrows. Looking back on this moment John would send a thanks into the air towards Mike. If it weren't from him he'd never have met a certain detective.

"I heard you were abroad somewhere getting shot at" Mike smiled, pleased to see his old friend. "What happened?". John stared, dumbfounded. Was that a trick question? Couldn't he see? But then he supposed, people rarely saw the things that were right in front of their face. "I got shot ". They went for coffee after that, sitting on a park bench reminiscing about the old days. When he was just a doctor and not a solider and a doctor. Now he was neither. He was just John and how pathetic was that. He laughed at Mikes sarcastic comment, fondling his cane.

The conversation soon turned to accommodation. "I can't afford London on an army pension" John mused, though he would much prefer to. His own flat right now was bleak, grey and lifeless. Like himself really. Mike seem somewhat surprised. "Thats not the John Watson I know" he exclaimed. John was quick to agree, sad acceptance clear in his eyes. Yes that Watson was gone now, lost on the field of battle.

"Couldn't Harry help?". Harry? Help? Did those two words really just appear in the same sentence? John rolled his eyes, he loved Harry, he really did but things between them were just too strained at the moment. There was no way he'd go to her for help. Not now. Perhaps not ever. Mike kept talking. "I don' know. Could get a flat-share..". A flat-share? Who'd want him for a flatmate? The idea was so laughable he spoke it out loud, a forced chuckle leaving his lips. Not realising these were the words that would change his life.

Mike laughed. John stared at him, confusion filling his eyes. "You're the second person to say that to me today". John blinked. "Really? Who was the first?" Little did he know that this potential flat mate was going to change his life forever.