After John wrote this letter to no one, he placed himself on the hard, uncomfortable bed, a few tears out of complete sadness running down his cheeks. The doctor didn’t have anyone, not even his family, who he left for this terrible war. Yes, he had been a stupid boy and now he was already more than three years there, being a man now. A soldier. Sleeping was almost not possible at that place, but the body of a human just gets tired at some point, so soon he was asleep. The night was cold, dark and quiet, even if all the soldiers could hear the bombs and gunshots in their minds. For a long time everything went good really, everything was good until something terrible happened. A very loud noise woke all the men, also John, up followed by a massive quake. Of course there was now big panic. All the soldiers sprinted out of their beds, but bending down as wide as possible, this was a very bad sign. John followed some of the men with his rifle in his hands. But what there was shocked them all. The troops, which they expected the next day attacked them with a bomb, followed by thousands of soldiers, who shot around everywhere. Watson knew of course what to do. He ran together with all of his colleagues to the front, shooting against their enemies. Then every moment felt like a never ending eternity. The army doctor’s eyes widened as hefelt terrible pain in his left shoulder. Breathing felt like a heavy stone he needed to pick up every time. He let his rifle fall to the floor and his body followed quickly. All this pain and all this shock made him scream loudly. He squirmed around panicked and screamed a few more times, before his mind went out and everything was black. All Watson could hear were some other screams, gunshots and bombs. But after a while it was suddenly quiet… people talked… aplane flied… people talked again… words like “we are losing him, the blood doesn’t stop, can you hear me?”… a landing… another air… cars driving around…people saying things… noises of some machines… a mask… dark. Complete darkness. John could feel or see nothing for a while. But soon the scene of the fight started in his mind over and over again, until he woke up in a white hospital room. And he knew this room, this monitors, this blankets and this hospitalshirt he weared. He was in the St. Bartholomew’s Hospital in his home city London.
On another place in the beautiful English city London lived the great detective Sherlock Holmes. He was not a common detective, no he was a high functioning sociopathic consulting detective. As weird as that might sound now, but that man searched a flatmate. He needed someone to share his rent with and someone to give him attention. Holmes was a human, who needed not a friend or someone to talk with. No, he needed someonehe could laugh at, someone he could impress with his extraordinary deducting skills. The detective could literally read all the information about a human from seeing him one minute or even less. His brain worked as fast as lightning and he was smarter than anybody else. What this strange man also needed was an assistant or a partner to work with. The police needed him to help, but hedidn’t work for them, because he thought that all the officers were silly. Sherlock worked for himself and with his terrible arrogant character, almost everybody hated him. How could he know that there existed a human, he could actually like and who could actually like him. And this human was Doctor John Watson.
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