Companion piece to the Story in our Doujinshi as well as "Closer" and "The Violin

I can barely remember that afternoon when my uncle was shot protecting me and my sister. The one shining detail was of that strange boy from grade school holding me as I wept. His voice surprisingly soothing, long slender hands pressing me into an embrace. The police had come and rushed me away shortly after along with my sister Harry. I can remember not wanting to let him go. I'd struggled against the officer holding the strange boys hand in desperation, wanting him to keep reassuring me the world would one day be right again. He looked almost sad when they succeeded in prying me from him. Cool bluish eyes peering back at me in a look of slight disappointment.

We moved away from central London after that day. Harry had been quite upset by the move having just started dating Eloise Kent. We were both shocked and upset by our uncles death. Even though we knew it was best it still hurt that we had to move away from home. London had and would always be the place that felt most like home.

We settled into a small town just outside of the city. I felt very out of place growing up. Harry was able to fit in just fine. By the time I reached high school I felt more like I belonged, although nowhere had made me feel as at home than in London or with that boys. I graduated one of the top in my class.

I was pleased to be able to move back to London for university and after only three at uni I was accepted into medical school. I was thrilled and somewhat awestruck to be accepted at such a young age. I worked hard to achieve my goal of becoming a doctor. It took less time then I could ever have hoped. After med school I was accepted directly into a well placed internship. My teachers gave me splendid reviews and I never had to worry about finding a placement. It was during my years as an intern that I discovered my affinity for being on call at the emergency. I became quick at determining ailments and skilled with emergency surgeries. The rush of adrenaline during such high stress moments was addicting. My parents were proud when I got my full license. Now I went by Doctor John Watson.

The rush from emergency still held it's appeal after my internship and I spent most of my time as a doctor on call. It was no wonder when the military came calling years later that I accepted without much of a thought. The war had definitely changed me and not in a way I could have anticipated. The medical unit was everything I could have ever wanted. The rush of battle the feeling of power when I was able to save a mans life. I was needed on the battlefield. Useful. It almost truly felt like I belonged. It made me feel almost guilty to thrive on something as terrible as this war. I had killed and watched brave people die, and yet, the injured men and women kept on fueling my drive to become a better man, a better doctor. And yet part of me couldn't help but remember that day in the park long ago. That day where I felt like I truly was meant to be in his arms.

They'd sent me home after I had recovered from the bullet. Alone in on the outskirts of London. No employment, a limp, a bad shoulder and the rush that kept me going was gone.

Getting what I thought to be a prank call telling me to go to the park one day had been the start of something that would change my world. The posh sounding man on the line had seemed to know everything about me. I'd been quite spooked and yet very intrigued which led me to following his directions. I was desperate to feel something, anything. The possible danger of obeying dragged me in. As a result I went to the park and was greeted by an old friend, Mike. Going along with my mystery callers demands and meeting Mike in the park had been the start of my salvation. He brought me to see a friend of his who was looking for a flat mate. I'd been living in an apartment provided by the military for months now and I needed a change. I wanted back into the rush and bustle of central London. My shoulder now completely functional but the limp I had somehow acquired still firmly in place. My psychiatrist told me it was psychosomatic.

My problems started to fade away when I met him. My place in the world reaffirmed with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes. I knew straight away he was the boy from my youth. Those curls and pale skin unmistakable. His bright eyes full of insight as they saw right through me while he made his deductions.

After barely knowing him for 24 hours I shot a man to keep him safe. He'd brushed off my casual advances when we'd gone for dinner but from the second he'd looked at me in the lab that day my heart was his. The man who had called to send me to the park had abducted me the evening after I'd met Sherlock. I know know now he is Sherlocks brother Mycroft. I thanked him for bringing us together. He seemed surprised I could recognize his voice. He offered me money to spy on my new flat mate. I refused. How could I break my newly found loyalty to the enigma that was Sherlock Holmes.

It took Sherlock a surprisingly long time to remember our first meeting. It took him longer then it did for us to start a romantic relationship. Something I had hoped for but never imagined I would have with such a brilliant man. The first time he kissed me, out of pure elation for my help with a case I might add, I knew I could never leave him. Even when he kept body parts in the fridge. Even if he played his violin at ungodly hours. Even though he may never have loved me back. I would always stay by his side. Wherever this insufferable genius went was truly home.

He gave me a real kiss months after the accidental one. After the first one he'd had to reconsider his feelings and stance on being married to his work. That first true kiss lead out our first time together. Even now remembering him and the passion he showed me on that night takes my breath away.

He remembered our first meeting several months into our relationship. I'm not sure why I hadn't told him before then. He was teaching me to play the violin when he told me about that month in the summer he spent leaning under the tutelage of his brother. The look on his face when he remembered made me laugh. The look of shock that he could have forgotten. Although I can understand why he'd forgotten. He seemed to have wanted to erase that month. Loosing Mycroft had hurt him in a way I'm not sure he'd been able to accept until recently. I'm happy and slightly concerned that they are now closer than ever.

It's been almost two years since we met. Our one year anniversary just around the corner. The best part about being with Sherlock Holmes used to be that I knew that he was my reason. The best part now is knowing that I'm his.

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