Adult Content Warning
This work could have adult content. If you continue, you have agreed that you are willing to see such content.
-
Tags
Summary
John Watson is an ex-army trauma surgeon turned A&E doctor. He knows how to stop a bleed, how to restart a heart, how to bring someone back from the edge. He works long hours in fluorescent-lit corridors where everything is urgent and nothing is quiet. It keeps his hands busy. It keeps him moving.
But there’s no emergency procedure for what comes after Sherlock Holmes. No protocol for the kind of silence that follows. Grief doesn’t respond to pressure, or sutures, or CPR. It just sits with him. In the walls of the flat, in the clouded edges of memory, in the things he didn’t say when it might have mattered.
He saves lives by night and loses sleep by day, drifting through London’s streets with too much whiskey in his system and too many ghosts at his back. Sherlock is dead. John knows that. Some nights, it doesn’t feel like enough of an explanation.
Fic lightly inspired by the song Mortals by Tommy Lefroy