Work Text:
John Watstomach was a fairly simple stomach, living an adventurous life with the back of the body he was attatched to, Sherback Holmes. Like, he supposed, many stomachs and backs, they loved eachother deeply. In fact, John often said, in his rumbly stomach-y way that he was certain the only thing keeping the entire body together was his and Sherback's love. Sherback would immediately dismiss this, saying it was "illogical" and "obviously a body has skin, it can keep together on its own". Even though John didn't much like Sherback's manners sometimes, he still loved Sherback and Sherback loved John.
That was what John always told himself. There were times, though... there were times when he doubted himself. He loved the back, of course, more than anything, but Sherback wasn't exactly the most affectionate body part. And when that bitch, Irene Handler turned up, John truly knew that he was done for. Handler was seductive and beautiful, and she touched his Sherback in ways that he, himself would never be able to do. It was like that day after day, and Irene Handler would keep returning, and Sherback would become more and more distant. John knew that something had to be done. So one night, while the body they inhabited was lying on its side, John asked the beautiful, he supposed, back to marry him.
"John Watstomach, you know how much I... appreciate you. But-"
"There's someone else, isn't there," he replied flatly.
"No, John!"
"Don't lie to me. I know her. Irene Handler. Well, I hope you're very happy together."
John desperately wanted to leave... so he did. He mustered all the abdominal strength he could and... wiggled. With a horrifying, tearing sound, John came unstuck from Sherlock and Lesthead, as well as Handerson, Donovarm, Mrs Legson and Molly Hoopneck. Lestread let out a blood-curdling scream and Handerson tried to hold John in... but it was no good. John was determined. He flopped his little stomach way away, trying to find a new body, leaving the internal organs exposed. The body they had so happily inhabited was left to bleed out on the bed.
"Dull," was Sherback's dying thought.