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26 June 2012 @ 11:23 pm

Title:  The Marksman and the Army Doctor [R]

Author: Foxy Badger

Fandom: BBC Sherlock

Pairing: John/Sebastian

Genre: slash, romance

Summary: Sebastian knows how John must feel. And therefore seeks contact with the other victim.

Disclaimer: Story is mine. John Watson and Sebastian Moran belong to Sir Conan Doyle. BBC Sherlock to the BBC. No profit made. Just for fun.

I had been watching him for month. Every day when he would leave his new apartment to go to work, I would watch him step into the cab. At first it was innocent, but as the months passed, I grew obsessed. It was part of my daily routine. But I longed for contact; someone to talk to. Someone who knew what I was dealing with. We had both lost someone we loved that day and while he had his therapist, I was alone and unable to share my feeling. John Watson seemed to be my only solution.

One day, I had made my decision.

The doctor stepped out of the cab, and I saw my chance. I walked towards him, seeking any possible way of trying to have a conversation started.

‘Excuse me,’ I spoke as he walked up towards the house, keys in his hand.

He turned to look at me, halting where he stood. He raised his eyes questioningly.



But I froze. What the hell was I doing? I never sought contact with any of his targets! It was against my own rules! It didn’t happen often I had let a target escape. He should consider himself lucky! Why the hell had I come here?

‘Can I help you?’ the doctor asked curiously, but also slightly impatiently. But then he narrowedhis eyes as he scrutinised me. ‘Do I – do I know you from somewhere?’

Oh, crap! I had though. I’d sometimes forgotten he had been in the army as well. We’d actually met once very briefly at the camp before a we had both been shipped out.

I shook my head. ‘I— I don’t think so.’

‘You look familiar, though.’

‘I’m not from London,’ I lied.  

‘Were you in Afghanistan?’


I shook my head again. ‘No,’ again I lied.

But John’s eyes remained narrowed.

‘Well, is there anything I can do for you?’ he asked, shaking his head in confusion. I still hadn’t told why I had addressed him.

‘I –

Again, I couldn’t find the words. I had wanted to start a conversation, but now that I had, I didn’t know what about. Why the hell hadn’t I just walked past him?

I would just have to come clean.

‘Let’s just say – I know how you feel,’ I almost vomited the words.

The doctor frowned and tilted his head, still examining my face.

‘Pardon?’ he asked. ‘You—what are you talking about?’

‘Your friend,’ I forced out. I had to keep talking now. There was no turning back. ‘Sherlock Holmes.’

‘Oh,’ John muttered as he turned back to his front door, fumbling with the keys, probably eager to get away from me. ‘You’ve read the papers, then?’ he then looked back at me, and added: ‘Or were you a client?’

‘No— I— I can’t tell you.’

‘What— why not?’ John asked as he turned back towards me. He seemed to grow suspicious and probably impatient as well.

‘Just— I know how you feel. Believe me,’ I assured him, closing my eyes and nodding once.

‘Why would I believe you?’

‘I’ve lost my friend,’ I replied at once. ‘My – my best friend. He – he killed himself.’

John stared at me for a long time until he lowered his head, staring down at the keys in his hand. He had no idea what was going on in his mind, but after what seemed like a century, he spoke:

‘Do you – want to come in for tea?’

I blinked sluggishly. I had no expected this. But how could I refuse?

‘Y-yes, sure.’

‘Can I know your name first?’

I chewed my lip for a moment. I couldn’t tell him my name. Not even my first name! He had already recognized my face. My name would do the trick, I was sure of it.

‘Seb,’ I said, speaking the name Jim had always used for me. I hated it, but it had been Jim after all…

A faint smile appeared on the doctor’s face.

‘I’m John,’ he spoke and nudged with his head towards the door.

‘Come in, please.’

And I followed him in.