‘Don’t show your power to other people beside me and Harry, John. It’s dangerous. Most people will not understand you.’
Since his mum died, John realized if he couldn't get a handle of his power, he could be a danger to himself and everybody around him. Water was important in life and it wasn't hard to find them in most parts of the world. A slight change in his temper wouldn't cause a problem, but a big enough shock could crumbled his barriers.
Therefore, as the time passed, he trained himself with self meditation and exercising his control over his power. It wouldn't be hard if it weren't for the continued growth and evolution of his abilities.
Water and vapor still seemed to be the basis of his power, which he had conquered in his teenage year. Turning vapor into water was easy, but it wasn't just done doing the other way around. Water on the other hand was easy. As long as it has water in it, he could direct the element. It was truly amazing that he could stir the sugar inside his tea just by thinking about it.
Ice came to him after his sister, Harry persuaded him to try. Even ice wasn't the trickiest part from his list. Discovering his latest affinity while he was interning as a surgeon was an awful experience.
It was heart-stopping.
He can still see the blood just suddenly flowing away from the appendix he was going to cut, before the nurse managed to perform suction. Many scenarios ran inside his head about what they'd do to him if they suspected him.
Thank Heaven, his colleagues and professor only considered it as light playing with their eyes. Otherwise, he might be the one getting dissected on the table.
Well , the blame was on him.
He was a bloody doctor for God sake.
He should have realized that more than half of the human’s body was composed of water. This theory allowed John to do a trial and error. Of course, he wasn't into self harming. The good surgeon bought pig’s blood, scaring the hell out of his sister finding the blood filled the tub.
After explaining to her, she was in full agreement. His sitter encouraged him by telling him how much this particular ability could do to help John in surgery. He could probably help with aneurysm. Or he could make it worse.
There were risk in this specific skill of his, unlike water or ice. If he's not being careful, he could blow people up, exploding them from inside out.
‘Practice John. I have faith in you.’
His wonderful trusting sister believed so much in him. John wished he could have as big of faith in himself as Harry has for him.
After accidentally almost killing a life pig, he decided to stop with the experiment. In the end, John worked on simple things, such as preventing blood clod, using his power like a suction (changing the course flow of the blood), or helping with bloodletting.
At Afghanistan, he succeeded in killing an enemy soldier, whom pointing a gun at him, without lifting his hand out of his patient’s wound. Nobody saw it, but it was enough to spook him. It was the first time, he felt truly afraid of his power.
These days, John only needed to think it or asked for water and ice to response to him. Seeking for blood’s help wasn't as simple as that. It needed half of his full concentration, which was more than the usual.
John was quite careful when it came to his power. Therefore, he cursed his fear and inability in trying to help Harry and Clara after that dreadful accident. He wasn't afraid of people finding out, but he feared he's going to kill them in the process of helping them.
In truth, there were nothing he could have done to help them. The problem weren't focused on anything to do with blood.
By the time of his arrival, he was immediately told that his sister-in-law, Clara had a brain aneurism, which prompted her to die instantly the second she was thrown out of the window, hitting the pavement. She died on impact.
The people who had informed him back in America didn't have all the facts. He was being told that at least Harry has survived, but in a coma. Later, Harry's condition took a turn for the worse.
He was just going home for an hour to look after Rosie, his niece/daughter (results of volunteering to give his sperm to Clara, so that the couple could have a child). Suddenly, he received an emergency call from the hospital, stating that his sister has a sudden stroke.
By the time he got to the hospital, she was already gone. The moment Harry died, he felt a darker side of him wanting to come out to punish someone for his misery. He felt like he was being gutted like a fish.
His mind went haywire for a second. He wasn’t thinking clearly, but in the midst of it, he managed to call Tony.
His best friend.
He held on long enough for the inventor to come and save him from this nightmare. He kept most of the destruction in his mind at bay. Channeling his ability into rain instead of killing everybody on the hospital by blowing their disembowelments.
Hearing Tony’s voice was like hearing the end of a successful operation. Holding him for dear life was like dangling on air with a piece rope keeping you from falling to your death. But having his hands around John was like ray of sunshine illuminating the darkness crowding his mind and heart.
Without Tony, and now Rosie, this world would end under John’s wrath.
He should have left London the moment he was kidnapped, strapped with a bomb to his chest. Even Tony begged him to moved out of his flat, find a new place to live or moved to Malibu with him, away from Sherlock. His partner disapproved of his friendship with Sherlock because John was almost always in danger when he assisted the detective on his adventures.
John liked the consulting detective. There was a void in his chest left by Harry's death. He filled that hole with Sherlock, unknowingly adopting the detective. The good doctor followed and protected the genius out of harm’s way.
Naturally, he pulled the line when it came to Rosie and Tony. As long as Sherlock didn't disturb his time with Rosie, he would help him in his investigations. When Tony’s in town, he would just tell Sherlock no.
No amount of pestering could get him to tell him anything about Tony. With his great deduction mind, he could only get himself as far as knowing that John was in a committed relationship with a man. Recently married he added after John came back from his short honeymoon.
He married a paranoid genius after all. No one could connect the Watsons to the Stark billionaire. No one.
Not even Mycroft and his CCTV. If it got Mycroft to make that face, the one that looked like he was having an intense diarrhea, well, it was just the icing on the cake.
And then, Sherlock got famous for solving so many cases. John's blog somehow had put a name on the whole ‘the only consulting detective’ in the world. His best friend (on Britain) has been solving more and more high-profile cases since.
When Jim Moriarty resurfaced once more, John knew he couldn't leave his friend. But he feared for his daughter’s life since he knew how ruthless and dangerous that criminal consultant was.
With the help of his lover, they smuggled their little girl out of London straight to New York, where Tony's new Stark Tower has just been finished.
John was impressed by the decoration Tony has put into Rosie's bedroom. The room has pink flowers wallpaper decorating two opposite sides of the wall, while the other sides was filled with soft green wallpapers. In the middle, there was a pink princess bed with cute rabbit and bear dolls on it. To the right side, Tony had put the latest gadgets and high state computer courtesy of Stark Technology. While in the other side, there were doll house, art supplies for kids and everything to help a child in developing their interest. He didn't even forget a big flat screen tv on the opposite side of the bed.
“Tony…” John was speechless. “This is…”
“It was last minute, but I hope Rosie loves it.”
“Are you serious?” He turned around, gazing into the eyes of the man who had been his best friends longer than half the span of his life. “She will love it.”
“You don’t know that,” he said sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “For all you know, she will hate it and…”
“You know our daughter better than that,” John admonish him.
They've been calling Rosie their daughter since before they officially wed four months ago. John didn't remember when it's started but he was beyond joy when Tony admitted as much to him.
A small smile appeared on his lover’s face as he mumbled his agreement.
“We will talk, after I put her to bed,” John smiled back at him, kissing his cheek. He was holding their sleeping daughter with his hands, her chin resting on his shoulder. The jet lag would be excruciating for her in the morning.
After closing the door, he was startled when he felt Tony enfolding him from the back. Tony's chest was warm and he could feel the new reactor bulging from His lover's chest. He still couldn't forgive himself for not noticing the changes in Tony's health. In his mind, he had failed Tony as a boyfriend. Tony didn't hold anything against him. He said it was his fault not telling John about it and to leave it at that.
“Stay.” The man whispered desperately on his ear as he held John around his embrace. “You will be saved, here in New York. With me and Rosie.”
Taking a deep breath, he let go of the air. “You know I can't do that.”
He felt the kiss on his left earlobe, the warm air coming from Tony's lips, leaving his body shivering in its wake.
“I'll come back. After I made sure Sherlock is alright,” he turned around, putting his arms around the taller man’s neck. With a press of his lips against his, John looked into the eyes of his husband. “I promise.”
That was two days ago. As he come back to the streets of London, he found out that Sherlock was currently known as a fugitive for a crime John knew the detective didn't commit. Greg warned him to stay out of this, telling John to think about his daughter.
John's answer was to punch him and find his friend. He went to Mycroft and found out what truly has been going out while he was away. He left the place without as much as a look back.
One of Sherlock's homeless network bumped into him, slipped him a piece of paper. Written on it was Sherlock’s location, Bart's morgue.
He was glad when he saw his friend was doing just fine, but then he got a phone call telling him that Mrs. Hudson was shot. He got into a big fight with Sherlock, which led to him storming out of the morgue to go back to Baker street.
John was surprise to find out that the old lady was perfectly fine and realized he was just conned. Somebody (Moriarty) wanted him to be separated from his friend. He rushed back to the morgue when he got a phone call from Sherlock.
The detective was talking nonsense. Odd things about being fraud and conning everyone. It was bogus. The doctor arrived in time to see his mate standing on the top of the building.
He remembered feeling like he was falling as the awareness sunk in. Sherlock was going to jump. He's going to kill himself.
John was trying so hard to convince him not to do it. He even begged, pulling the Rosie card since Sherlock had a human connection to his child.
Unfortunately, even that didn't work. He didn't understand why his best friend was admitting all these lies about himself. He knew better than everyone how intelligent the man was.
The detective told him to stay where he was standing. He thought if he did do as he said, Sherlock would laugh and stepped back.
But, he didn't.
The moment Sherlock threw his cellphone away, John felt his heart jumped to his throat. He stood still on his place, still clutching the phone on his ear and heart was throbbing like crazy.
The doctor snapped out, when he saw the man he's being helping to protect for two years, jumped.
“No. SHERLOCK!” John fled out like being chased by a ghost, trying to get to the hospital building. A body, Sherlock’s was lying on the sidewalk.
On the way, a bike hit him, knocking him out of his course. Soon, people were crowding around Sherlock. He didn't know how he pushed through the crowd but he recalled seeing the bloody mess surrounding Sherlock’s body. He managed to grab onto his wrist, trying to find any pulse before people were holding him away for the medics to come through.
John knew he was frantic and disbelief filled his mind. He couldn't believe his friend just died. It was Harry all over again.
Not on my watch, he thought to himself.
Pushing aside the shock, John concentrated, his hand stretched out trying to reach for his friend.
Imagined how surprise he was to find out that the blood was still pulsing on Sherlock’s veins. He could feel it answering John's call.
Sure he was angry and upset wouldn't even describe how he felt at the moment. He wasn't Sherlock Holmes, but he was after all trained to perform surgery in a war zone. Thus, he has a cool head.
Sherlock must have been under pressure. John didn't understand but he kept his face blank, keeping the whole of charade ‘I just saw my best friend killed himself’.
The instant he got into the morgue, he searched from the tag and pulled the white sheet off of Sherlock’s body. It was definitely a body, with dark curly hair, right height and gender, yet it was definitely not Sherlock.
“How did you know?”
With a look that could penetrate concrete, John turned around, facing his still living neighbor currently hiding in a shadowy part of the morgue.
“I have my way, Sherlock.” He gritted through his teeth, slowly saying. “Now, tell me.”
Delaying a few seconds, John circled around the metal table, away from the Sherlock’s cadaver to stand just a meter from his soon to be ex best friend.
“It must be done.” The detective said in conviction, unwavering under the intense stare of his assistant.
One of the windows in the morgue was suddenly being smashed, creating a loud noise. The consultant immediately reached over towards John, trying to protect him from the attack.
John took a step back away. The detective fell, lying down on the floor, waving his hand motioning for John to do the same thing.
John tried to appease the man, since he knew he was the one smashing the window. He incidentally let his anger slipped through and shot some of those water drops to the morgue.
After making sure that there was no one to shoot at them, Sherlock, after a lot of threats from John's side, told him the truth.
There was three shooters who would shoot John, Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson if he didn't jump off of the building to kill himself. If Sherlock tried to warn any of them, his men would pulled the triggers. Molly, Mycroft and a bunch of Mycroft's agents with Sherlock's homeless network managed to pull the whole suicide act to fool Moriarty’s men.
John tried to be understanding, but he still felt betrayed all the same. It was the final nail to the coffin.
Truth be told, John was planning to move in with his husband when the tower has finished. Rosie missed having Tony. It wasn't enough for her to see him only a few days every month. The 7th year old wanted to move so much to America that she studied the culture, under JARVIS’s parental control.
John’s voluntary work was getting tedious as well. Rosie’s enthusiasm in moving overseas lighted up John’s long forgotten dream to live together with Tony. The only thing holding him back from leaving was his constant worry over Sherlock.
There's no question which one he chose, though. Before Moriarty came back, he decided he was going to break the news gently to Sherlock.
Now, he was just done.
“I'm moving, Sherlock.”
“What do you mean by moving?” Sherlock cocked his head to the side.
Crossing his arms, John repeated calmly. “I'm moving out of London, Sherlock.”
“You can't.” Sherlock huffed indignantly, being a brat. “I'm going to take down Moriarty’s crime syndicate and I'll need my assistant back after I come back to London.”
John has lose the will to even scorn his childish friend.
Oh my God! Was this truly his life? He has a child, married to a man-child and has a childish friend.
He started giggling, making Sherlock stop from ranting off about John's responsibilities as his assistant.
Soon, he ended his sudden manic attack, clasping his hands on Sherlocks shoulders. “I'm going to move away, whether you like it or not Sherlock.”
Before Sherlock could say anything, John continued. “I'm going to live together with the man I love and my beautiful daughter out of Britain and its whole complications.”
“I cannot be your assistant anymore, Sher. But I can still be your friend.” He started walking away from the tall Brit. “You're the best detective in the world. I'm sure you could find my new home.”