I do not claim any ownership of the characters within. Instead, they are simply my playthings for the moment.

This particular story is in no way connected to any other I've posted. Apparently, I like speculating on John's reactions to and life after The Fall.
I believe I may offer several options for his mental state by the time Season Three begins.

Any suggestions, corrections, etc are happily accepted. This has not been beta'd.

Thank you for reading and review at your leisure!

*love*

The day I met him, I'd had only been back in England a few months. I'd been invalided home after being shot in Afghanistan. I was a soldier, a doctor, but after that, I wasn't anything important. I thought nothing important or exciting would ever happen to me again.

Then I met him, and he offered me a chance at such an amazing life. One I could share with him, no matter that he drove me up the wall with the noise and experiments and running all over bloody London.

He saved me. We saved each other, I think.

He was the smartest man I've ever known. He made such beautiful music on his violin, and, I think I may have caught him singing once or twice. I never told him... It helped though, with the nightmares and sleepless nights. I hope he knew that.

No matter what anyone called him – freak, fake, liar, psychopath, sociopath, addict – above all else, he was my friend. He cared more than anyone I've ever met. He just didn't have the experience to know how to show it. So, he made it his life's work – he gave his life – to help and to save others all under the guise of 'solving the puzzle'. Try as he might, he couldn't fool me for long. He cared or he wouldn't have done it.

He told me once there was no such thing as heroes, and that, if there were, he wouldn't be one. That's a lie. He was my best friend, and I'll always believe in him.

- John Watson, eulogy of Sherlock Holmes