Chapter Text
A man sat down outside of the hospital where he happened to work at, taking a break from all the sick images of trauma injuries that stuck to his mind. It was not that he himself was disgusted by the blood. He had been at war at some point, so he knew it wasn’t the terrible wounds that made him want to break down into tears. All he had left from that after all was a limp, some bad memories, and a cap that said “I went to war and all I got was this lousy hat”. Well, it didn’t actually say that, but it did shout out to the world that he had in fact gone into battle.
John Watson looked off into the distance. Sirens played out once an ambulance arrived. It hurt his ears, but he couldn’t help but not care. It was another person dying, and it happened so often that he couldn’t do much but swallow the anxiety that rose at the blaring alarms and look off into absolutely nothing.
Something about him hated his job. He despised it. Something else inside of him screamed to leave for he was not sure if he could handle seeing any more gore within his life. He could barely walk out of a room without a feeling of impending doom following close after. It was unlikely that a stray gunshot would hit him in one of his vital organs or that a car would suddenly, without warning, ram into him.
There was a quick decision that played out through his head, but he couldn’t take it any longer. He needed to find somebody to room with before he quit. He simply could not handle it any longer. Every person who came in reminded him further of the traumatic events that had happened at war. A grenade. A man. An injury that would affect him for the rest of his life. That was how it played out.
Watson desperately needed out of whatever life he had built for himself. Quitting and starting new sounded like the perfect thing. Leave the hospital and work at a children’s clinic where the biggest problem was the flu.