First Meeting, a sherlock fanfic | FanFiction
JOHN H. WATSON, M.D., . I believe he is well up in anatomy, and he is a first- class chemist; but, as far as I know, he has never taken he said; “I know nothing more of him than I have learned from meeting him occasionally in the laboratory. Summary: Sherlock and John's first meeting. Prequel to Study in Sherlock and John vs Sally. Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock Holmes. The official digital diary, created by the BBC *ahem* we mean John, to accompany the series lists January 29th as the date of his first meeting.
Sherlock sees that Harry is a sibling because the phone is a "young man's gadget" so it could not be from a uncle or father. They are both to young to have grown and married kids, so that is ruled out. Sherlock sees that John doesn't approve of Harry because he got the phone, which shows they Harry reached out to him, but John is still looking for housing.
Then, Sherlock looks for the reason for the disapproval. At the place for the charging cord, there are scratches in the metal, like someone struggled with shaking hands to plug in their phone.
The First Meeting, a sherlock fanfic | FanFiction
That means that Harry was an alcoholic. Lastly, Sherlock gets that Harry left Clara because the phone was givin to John, and when someone is left they keep things for sentiment, but when you leave someone things aren't kept. She also had the smell of at least four different aftershave on her, none of which you or the other guy use.
There were also four different types of hair caught in her clothes — too much to be just a result of a passing by. You're not stalking me are you? You carry the distinctive smell of a laboratory with you and I had already deduced that you were a medical student.
I would say you were practicing a surgery on a dead body before you came here, judging by the dried blood on your neck as well as the faint smell of decomposition. And what comes to you not having had sex in three days, I can deduce that from your body language as well as the fact that you look tired, as you have been no doubt studying none-stop for your final exams before the term ends.
That wasn't the response he usually received when he deduced things about someone. Johnny was getting more interesting the more he talked to him. He leaned his head on his hand on the bar as he turned to look at Sherlock again with a smile. Johnny grimaced before laughing at Sherlock's imitation. Sherlock could feel John checking him out and felt himself blush — something that had never happened to him before.
He was starting to like John, which was something when Sherlock was in question as he didn't like anyone. Taking in John's open and expectant expression, however, he decided to just go on with it. You're also athletic and have played rugby for half of your life, I'd say, but have quit recently because you hurt your shoulder and don't have much time for it because of your studies.
You come from a poor family and wouldn't be able to afford med-school if it wasn't for the scholarship you received. Your father was a military man, but has been dead since you were a child. You have an older brother, but you don't get along with him because you don't approve his drinking habit and you worry about your mother because she tends to suffer from depression from time to time.
It takes a few seconds — though for Sherlock it feels like minutes — for John to speak. Sherlock let out the breath he only now realised he had been holding and gave a small smile.
Why did he tell that to John? He never spoke about himself let alone Mycroft if he could avoid it and here he was opening up to a total stranger. There was just something about John that made him feel at ease… "Sherlock? He looked around trying to distract himself of how aware he was of how close John seemed to be when suddenly he saw the reason he had been at the club in the first place.
A blond man in a green shirt, black trousers and a leather jacket was just heading to the exit and without a second thought Sherlock dashed after him leaving John staring after him. John cursed silently wondering if he had been too forward with his flirting, if that had been the reason Sherlock left in such a hurry. He felt sad as he had really liked Sherlock and his brilliant mind and wouldn't have minded getting to know him better.
He was the most intriguing person John had ever met and with those looks he couldn't help but feel attracted towards the younger man. But if Sherlock didn't feel the same John would have been satisfied with just having the genius as his friend.
Even having just met the man, John was sure that with Sherlock around his life would be much less boring, so with these thoughts in his mind John left a few notes on the bar counter and dashed after the mad genius who had just disappeared through the door.
As he stepped outside there was no sight of Sherlock, but John jogged forward hoping to get a glimpse of the man somewhere. He continued towards the local park when suddenly he heard fighting sounds from a nearby alley. John ran to the alley and saw his mad genius engaged in a fight with two other men. John was amazed at the skill Sherlock displayed, holding his own against the two men who clearly had more muscle than he did, but there was no way John would leave him to deal with the men by himself.
He ran towards the fight and took hold of the smaller of the men punching him straight to the nose before hitting him in a nerve thus dropping the man to the ground unconscious due to the pain. He turned to look at Sherlock just in time to see him take down the other man. The collision had killed two of the teens instantly, and the other three were in critical care up in the ICU.
The two adults driving the van had been taken to another hospital. From what John knew, they were barely clinging to life. He scrubbed a hand fiercely through his blonde hair to distract him from his thoughts. He couldn't linger on what had happened to the patients he had already treated, or the ones that were beyond his control.
Finishing up charting on his most recent patient abdominal pain, inconclusive, admitted for a further work-uphe logged out and stood up. How long before the ambulance gets here? It was less than a minute before a gurney was rolling its way towards the designated trauma room, the paramedics jogging to keep up as their patient was rolled inside.
Used syringe next to him, empty Ziploc with traces of white powder. Probably heroin, could be cocaine. Chronic junkie, lots of track marks," the taller of the two paramedics panted out as he helped transfer John's new patient to the hospital bed.
Ninety five percent oxygen saturation on room air. He was tall, at least six foot, with a curly mop of brown hair that was long enough that it dipped down to his collar. Although his shirt had been ripped open, the quality of his shirt and pants was far above what John would expect for a chronic drug user.
He was pale, and breathing shallowly, the occasional breaths too far apart for John's liking. All that he received was a slight flicker of his eyelids. How much did you take? Please wait outside in the waiting room," John responded automatically, turning slightly to face the man in the door.
He was as tall as the man in the bed, with auburn-ginger hair and a nose slightly too large for his face.
His face seemed drawn, and there was something shadowed about his eyes. Heroin addict for three years now.
Based on his current tolerance level, he likely took at least mg of his drug of choice, although I cannot speak for the purity, for he was meeting with a new dealer. John sighed, then turned his attention back to his patient. Saline, two large bore IVs, wide open.
We need to deal with that blood pressure. Where in the hell is the narcan? He watched the nurses search for veins, pleased when they were able to sink two large-bore IV lines into the pale skin of his arms. Addicts were notorious for difficult to find veins. Saline, wide open," said another.