Waking up, Brushing my teeth, Clothes, Breakfast, Down the stairs, Say hi to the flower Lady. Open the pharmacy.
John H. Watson, ex-army doctor, the man who has seen everything and isn't about seeing anything else, the sad lonely man that never takes a lady home.
He fumbled with the keys for a second, but his workplace was open at 8:00 am in the morning when all the girls went for a walk and the ladies came for their analgesics like every morning, some even asked if he would like some breakfast, it was nice.
After he left the war it was an easy decision to have an easier life, something calm, something without gunshots and death everywhere, something without the screams and the blood and-
"Do you have Vitamins?"
"Huh? Oh, yes, yes, of course, give me a minute"
Maybe he missed it, maybe the adrenaline of war was something he needed sometimes, maybe his nightmares were more of dreams, maybe he was just too tired and should just get the vitamins for the client.
Bloody hell, John, what are you doing with your life.
"That would be two pounds, miss"
"Here you go, thanks John!"
Just get your shit together. You asked for this.
7:30, nobody in the streets, and nobody that wanted to buy some last minute drugs.
John looked out the glass door at the front of his establishment to the wonderful view of the street at night, it was getting dark and he knew that at this point nobody would come in for some medicine, so he went to the back of the store and entered the little room that was there for storage, he took his coat and his cane.
His cane, his good old cane made of fake wood, the cane that he wishes he didn't need, his only "friend", one of those friends who you didn't want as much as you needed them.
The bell he had at the door suddenly jingled.
John came out, leaving his coat and his cane back there, it was late, so whoever it was, they were either in trouble or lost. And for this case, John realized, it was probably the first instance.
There was a man, being held up just by an umbrella, he was wearing a grey suit that could've been in a much better condition, stained with blood and dirt, the man was breathing harshly and there was a gash in his left shoulder messily wrapped with a blue tie that was barely blue anymore.
"God, what happened to you, sir?"
John went to the back again to find a foldable chair he used when his leg got tired and he helped the blood-covered man sit, he thanked him and tried to ask for a glass of water, but instead, he just coughed and gestured the refrigerator with his hands, John complied. Once half the bottle was empty the man let out a sigh and looked at John who smiled in return.
"I... I got attacked a few blocks back."
"Christ, Sir, we need to call the police! Do you remember something else?
"Oh! No, no, thanks, but calling the police won't be necessary"
John was had his phone out already but he stopped once the man tried to stand up again, John pleaded that he stayed until he was at least not bleeding anymore.
"I'll help you, just....stay here for a second, I'll need you to remove that tie and your coat."
The man did as asked while John searched for alcohol, some bandages, and some painkillers, it wasn't hospital worthy but it would get the job done.
"I can't guarantee that this won't hurt right now but it will at least stop the bleeding, please take off your shirt"
The man gave him a funny look but he did it anyway, fortunately for John, the cut wasn't as deep as it appeared by the bleeding so it wouldn't need stitching, thank god.
"Are you allergic to something sir?"
"I don't think medicine has either shrimp or peanuts in it, doctor"
John let out a soft laugh as he pressed an alcohol, soaked cotton on the cut, the man flinched slightly but he got used to it in mere seconds.
"My name, John Watson"
He said while bandaging the cut carefully to not open it again, he then turned to the man's face, there didn't seem to be any cuts there, more like bruises and a few scars that were not visible until closer inspection, he gave the man some painkillers and a wipe to clean his face.
"Well, mister Michael you should be good to go! I can't really do much about your dirty clothes but I can call you a cab if you'd like"
The older man looked up at John and he just smiled, John correspondingly smiled back and helped the man to his feet again, he got dressed and looked back.
"How much do I owe you? And I won't accept an 'it's free' for an answer, doctor Watson"
John was indeed going to say that, since he was his last customer he didn't feel like it was appropriate to charge him but alas he had to. He wouldn't do it full prize anyway, Michael was already in a horrible situation for John to be a pain in the arse.
"150 for everything I did"
"Please Doctor, that can't possibly be the whole price"
John smiled and shook his head, he gave him a small written bill that he gave all customers and received a very much generous payment, he went to retrieve the change but the man was already leaving.
What a strange note to end the day with.
John made sure to still call the police so they would check the streets, once he retrieved his belongings from the back, closed the pharmacy and quietly went home.
John H. Watson didn't know much about anything, not about the local murder brothers and what they looked like, not about the black car that picked "Michael" up, not about the lady texting in the back seat, not about the severed body at the end of the street that he made the police discover.
Not about a thing of what just happened.
Did you find anyone? -SH.
I think I might have found who
we are looking for, brother -MH.
Don't call me brother -SH.
He didn't bother too much to ask anyway, he was living a normal life and that was it.