Work Text:
It was an ordinary day. I was stitching someone up, it wasn't a bad wound or anything. Then, you walked in, gripping on your injured friend. He was bleeding through the gap in his chest, and I didn't know how to react. You laid him down on the cot, and I picked out the bullet from underneath his rosy red skin, with a pair of tweezers. "Thank you," you say for him, "His name is Victor." "Well what is your name?" I ask with curiosity. "The name is Sherlock Holmes."
All of the days kind of mush together, and I only get bits and pieces from each of them. However, I remember things that were special, not the unimportant parts of life with you.
You told me about your life back home, when you weren't in training. "My brother, Mycroft, oh, he is the most repulsive person I have ever laid eyes on. He always eats the cake, before anyone can grab a slice," you explained. I just laughed at it. "Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes. Do your parents love ridiculous names, or something?"
"You're just saying that because you have a boring name, John. At least your personality doesn't go hand-in-hand with it. You're actually interesting, unlike all the other blokes," you pointed out.
"Well, not everyone around here is boring. What about Anderson?" You glared at me, as if I should have known better. "Anderson is a complete moron. Have you ever talked to him, before? He can't even tell the difference between Calcium and Fluorine."
"So, you're into science, are you?"
"I guess you could say that."
One day, you took me to see your airplane. "See this, baby, right here? I'm naming her Bessy. She's mine, and I can finally fly her, now that I've been ranked up to pilot," you said with a huge smile on your face. Of course, I smiled back, because I was absolutely happy for you. How could I not be happy? "Bessy? Why Bessy?"
"Bessy just kinda suits her, I don't know. Not everything has to mean something, John," you laughed. I respond with just a "Yeah. You're right."
"When am I not right?" We just stared at each other with grins on our faces. Your gaze fell behind me and you half said, half whispered, "John. Look." You placed your hands on my shoulders, and turned me around to look at the sky. "Look. The sun is setting. Let's go watch it." I turned my head to look at you, but you already had my wrist and you were running closer to the sun, like Icarus with his wax wings. You dragged me into one of the only trees around the base. We climbed, and climbed higher and higher, until there was nothing in our view of the big ball of fire slowly going down. The heavens were painted with burnt oranges, deep scarlets, and golden yellows, as if it were handcrafted by Da Vinci himself, and the center of the canvas was gradually leaving our sight.
"Isn't it beautiful?" you ask with complete amazement in your baby blue eyes. I gaze at your angular, almost unnaturally perfect face, and my lips curl up into a grin. All I say is, "Yes. It really is," as I turn back to the now, sunless sky.
After weeks of growing close, we felt at home with each other. Home. I forgot that I had one, to be honest. You were my home. I didn't need my nosy mother, or my judgemental father, or my drunk sister. All I needed was you.
I remember dragging you along to my table in the Mess Hall, when it came to eating our meals. I mean, sure, I had buddies that I could have sat with, but I wouldn't be able to keep my mind straight if you weren't there. "John, it's fine. I can sit at that other table," you say, as you point in the general direction of an empty desk-like area, with lonely seats lining it. "Not in hell, Sherlock," I chuckle, "You're sitting with me, you twat."
You hesitated to sit next to me, with the crowded group of men surrounding us. You ate in silence, unless I spoke up, or asked a question.
"Do you believe in aliens, Sherlock?" I questioned, with my cheek filled with mashed potatoes.
"I don't know how to answer that one. I don't know anything about The Final Frontier," you sadly frowned.
I paused, trying to decipher what you meant by "anything".
"C'mon! You have to know a little something at space! At least enough to give me your theories about aliens!" I exclaimed as I laughed and punched your arm playfully.
"I'm sorry, but I deleted that information ages ago," you replied. You couldn't even look at me. You just sat there, playing with your peas on your cracked, red plate.
I breathed a laugh, "What do you mean 'deleted'?"
"It means exactly what it sounds like." Embarrassment crept it's way onto your face, and the smile that was placed on mine, fell. I had to stop myself from burning a hole into you, with my eyes. They soon drifted onto a vacant space, somewhere in the room.
We ate in silence, the rest of the lunch break.
About a week later (or was it two weeks? Maybe it was just a few days...), we found ourselves at the medical tent, where I had to stitch up, yet another patient. The young newbies could never stop hurting themselves. You leaned against one of the poles that held the tent up, with your arms crossed, and stared at my hands. I, however, was squatting in front of the young man, who was sitting on a cot. "This is where we met, John." You're face lighting up like a Christmas tree, in the middle of the holiday season. I stop for a second to think about this statement. "Yeah. It is." After the job was done, you grab my wrist and once again, drag me out to the only nearby tree on the base. "It's getting around that time of day, so why not enjoy it, Johnny?" Your voice crawled behind you, and to my ears, as you climbed the infamous tree. After you were far enough up, I began my journey on the bark of the Oak. We found our comfortable seats to the scene, like we were in a cinema, waiting for the movie to start. Slowly, Icarus' dream fell farther, and farther into the rabbit hole, and we were left with the brushstrokes of it's memories.
The days passed again, and the once, bright orange horizon grew gray around us. You were called out to fly your girl, Bessy.
Everyone was called out into the field, even me. I had to fight for my life, even though I was just an Army doctor. The sound of airplanes roaring hit the air, and our ear drums. It was beginning. Ol' Bessy zoomed past all of us, and I looked up at you, flying higher, and higher, into the stars. That's when I noticed another, unfamiliar plane, heading toward you.
It hit you, right in the middle of the nose. Your wax wings had melted, and you were falling, and falling, and falling. Bessy laid down in the old Oak tree, and the brushstrokes of our memories painted it in golden yellows, burnt oranges, and deep scarlets, with a blaze. I fell to my knees as everything that I loved disappeared into the rabbit hole.
The sun of my life has set, as I watch you leave the horizon. Now, all that is left is the lonely moon, but it will never be complete, without the glow of you.