fic for xfdryad: Oh My
Title: Oh My
Recipient: xfdryad
Author: monkiainen
Characters/Pairings: John/Sherlock
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Mentions of roofies, minor character death, mentions of blood
Summary: John Watson: former soldier, current escort. Just when he thought his life couldn't get any worse, it did.
Author's note: Betaed by the lovely colebaltblue.
Well this is something else. Never had he ever thought to find himself in a place like this, with the hypnotic beat of bass and writhing bodies all around him. Still, beggars can't be choosers, and unfortunately for John Watson that is exactly what he is: a beggar.
Everybody had been telling him what a smart move it had been from his part to join the Royal Army Medical Corps; the benefits and pension would be worth his while, not to mention what "an experience" it would be. Bullshit. All he had to his name was a limp in his right leg and a bullet to his left shoulder, both of which left him unable to practice medicine. Did he also mention the PTSD? And the fact that his so-called "pension" from the army was barely enough for him to pay the rent and that was about it? Yeah, what a wise move it had been for him to join the fucking army.
With no extra money to spend, and desperate of finding any job to do John had soon found himself with little, if any options. It was all thanks to an old army-buddy, well, more like a buddy of a buddy, that John found himself working as a bloody escort to Diamond Date Services. Still, it was better than rotting away in the dingy flat he could barely afford so John did as he was told. It was liberating to be treated just as "Jason", the decent-looking nice bloke who was amiable with both sexes and treated everyone with respect. If anyone noticed the slight tremor in his hands, well, they were nice enough not to mention it.
John soon realised there were worse ways to live than being an escort. He had managed to avoid the awkward sex encounters so far, but some of his regulars have been… quite persistent as of late. Particularly one Dawid Tsyplakov, a wealthy Eastern European business man who was used to getting what he wanted and didn't take no for an answer. So far John had been able to dodge Dawid's unwanted attentions with neatly placed excuses and charm, but one day there might be a time when his wits wouldn't be able to help him. John really hated to resort to violence, but damn if he was going to let the slick most-likely-a-criminal to have his way with him. Even if it meant losing his job.
Hence John finds himself standing at the bar of the most popular club in London, The Talisman. Rumour is there are all sorts of legal and illegal stimulants to be had at The Talisman, and John is eager to believe the hype - not all of the dancing could be attributed to just alcohol. John closes his fist more tightly over his glass of club soda - he never drinks while working. Partly because he doesn't want to look unprofessional, but mostly because he likes to keep his senses alert. Old habits die hard, and even after all this time John is still a soldier at heart.
A light tap on his shoulder and the faint woody smell indicates that his date for the night has arrived. John sighs mentally before plastering a fake smile to his face and turning to meet Dawid. The younger man is impeccably dressed to the nines as usual, and his whole demeanour oozes confidence and arrogance. Many of the dancers, both male and female, give Dawid appreciative looks - some of them even look at John with thinly-veiled jealousy in their eyes. If they only knew what kind of person Dawid really is, or what he is capable of.
"Jason. It's always so pleasant to see you", Dawid all but purrs, moving his hand from John's shoulder to his arm. John reminds himself that he has a rent to pay and bills to take care of, before covering Dawid's hand with his own.
"Likewise, Mister Tsyplakov, likewise" John murmurs, watching Dawid coyly under his lashes and pretending to be more prudish than he actually is. Somehow he has become very good at acting, which to be frank, is only an advantage in his current occupation. It is all about giving people what they want, or what they think they want.
Later on when looking back to the events of that night, John can pinpoint exactly when his life takes a drastic turn to the worse. There is some sort of skirmish at the dancefloor - somebody touches someone they aren't supposed to or something like that, and there is a lot of shouting and fighting and eventually the security shows up. John only turns his eyes away from his glass for a minute to check out what is going on and how he should react to it, but that is enough. After that, things get a bit fuzzy.
John vaguely remembers following Dawid to his BMW and driving away. They finally park in front of The Milestone Hotel where Dawid had been living the whole time John had known him. Something about privacy and full service and whatnot, but what would John know? He was only an escort. Then it all turns black.
John wakes up with a start; his head pounding. It takes him a moment to register where he is, but then he realises he is lying on what appears to be a very posh bed with all his clothes on. John tries to sit up, but the world is spinning around uncontrollably. It almost makes him vomit there and then, so John closes his eyes, trying to will the spinning to stop. It fades eventually, and John is able to take a better look around him.
Ah. So he is in Dawid's apartment. But where is Dawid? And what the hell happened last night?
John gets up, stumbles to the direction of the living room and stops dead in his tracks.
Dawid is there, on the floor, lying in a huge pool of blood. Blood that is still wet, so it means whatever happened to Dawid is very recent. His doctor's instincts take over, and John rushes to Dawid's side, checking for any sign of life. He could… yes, he might be able to save Dawid if he works fast and calls for help. Yes, help! Where is his mobile? It is nowhere to be seen, so John grabs Dawid's phone from the table, dialling 112. While he waits for the call to connect, John starts CPR, counting compressions under his breath.
John has no idea how long he has been doing CPR when the paramedics finally arrive, but his arms are burning and his head is spinning. The paramedics are asking him all kinds of questions he can't answer for the life of him, and soon it becomes evident Dawid can't be saved. Not even after all the work John did to save him.
What happens next is something John should have known was coming. At first he is praised for trying to save a life, and the next moment he is being questioned by the bloody police. What a mess his life is, and it's all his own doing.
The female sergeant interviewing him is rude and unlikable, to the point it makes John want to slap her. Which of course he doesn't do because his parents raised him better - and because hitting an officer would only make things worse for him. The sergeant, Donovan, does not seem to believe that John doesn't remember what happened between him and Dawid the night before. She just keeps on accusing John of murder, and trying to cover his tracks "by performing dummy CPR so that it would look like he was trying to help".
At that point John snaps and tells Donovan exactly what he thinks of her so-called interrogation technique. He is a doctor for god's sake, and he has sworn an oath to preserve life, not take it! He served his country in the army and this is what he gets? A string of blatant accusations that have no basis whatsoever, only because Donovan wants to solve the case as quickly as possible.
A deep voice interrupts John's tirade, telling Donovan that she is so wrong about her accusations it's almost comical. John looks up and sees a thin and tall stranger, with black curls and an air of confidence around him. The stranger then continues his speech, by pointing out to Donovan that she really should check John's blood for Rohypnol because of the memory loss. Oh, and the real murderer is Dawid's wife, fed up with Dawid's infidelity. The scent of the floral perfume in Dawid's clothes should match the one she frequently uses, and if they would check the laundry room, they would find the bloody maid clothes she used to sneak in Dawid's room unnoticed. With those words, the stranger marches out from the room, leaving Donovan boiling in silent rage besides John.
An older man with silvery grey hair tells Donovan to do "what Sherlock said, because he's usually right" and all but steers her out of the room. The man then introduces himself to John as DI Greg Lestrade and apologizes for all the inconvenience Sergeant Donovan has caused. Lestrade then asks John to give his official statement on how he knew Dawid and what he can remember from the previous night later on that day at the station. For now, John should go the hospital to have his blood taken so they can verify Sherlock's theory about roofies.
John agrees, and a uniformed officer escorts himself to the hospital. After the blood test John is at loss what to do. He probably does not have a job anymore - even though he's not a killer, he was still present when one of their regulars got killed. It really does not look on his resume, so to speak.
"Afghanistan or Iraq?" a deep voice asks somewhere on his right.
"Sorry?" John mumbles, turning to look at the thin and tall stranger he last saw at the crime scene.
"Which was it, Afghanistan or Iraq?" the stranger repeats his question, looking at John with a bored look in his face.
"Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you know…" John starts, only to be interrupted.
"How do you feel about the violin?" the stranger continues, now turning to look John straight in the eyes. With very beautiful blue eyes, John adds mentally, and suddenly he wants to know more about this cryptic man.
"I play the violin when I'm thinking and sometimes I don't talk for days on end. Would that bother you? Potential sex partners and companions should know the worst about each other", the taller man says, his voice moving to a lower register.
"Who said anything about sex partners and companions? How did you know about Afghanistan?" John questions, even though he already knows the answer to the first question. He can't deny he's feeling very attracted to the other man - it's been a while since he felt like this about anyone. The tall stranger is clearly from a wealthy family, if his clothes and the way he holds himself are any indication. John briefly wonders what a gorgeous man like that could possibly see in an ex-Army doctor turned to an escort like him, but then ditches the sentiment there and then. If a tall, brooding stranger is interested in having sex with him, John really has nothing against it.
"I have a nice little place in Central London. We'll meet there tomorrow evening, 7:00," the stranger says, his eyes fixed on John.
"Is that it?" John says, trying to imagine what the stranger looks like beneath his clothes. Probably all too skinny and sinewy, but those eyes and voice really make up for it.
"Is that what?" The tall man asks, raising his eyebrow questioningly.
"We've only just met and we're going to go jump straight to bed?" John continues.
"Problem?"
"We don't know a thing about each other. I don't know where we're meeting, I don't even know your name" John quips, only because he's desperate to know the other man's name.
"I know you're an Army Doctor. And you've been invalided home from Afghanistan. I know you've turned to an escort because you couldn't figure out what else you can do, with your war injuries preventing you working as a qualified doctor. That's enough to be going on with, don't you think? The name's Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221B Baker Street. Afternoon."
With those words the stranger disappears.
Sherlock Holmes. Hmm… now John has a name to the face, and an address to be at. Maybe this whole murder thing wasn't so bad at all.
Recipient: xfdryad
Author: monkiainen
Characters/Pairings: John/Sherlock
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Mentions of roofies, minor character death, mentions of blood
Summary: John Watson: former soldier, current escort. Just when he thought his life couldn't get any worse, it did.
Author's note: Betaed by the lovely colebaltblue.
Well this is something else. Never had he ever thought to find himself in a place like this, with the hypnotic beat of bass and writhing bodies all around him. Still, beggars can't be choosers, and unfortunately for John Watson that is exactly what he is: a beggar.
Everybody had been telling him what a smart move it had been from his part to join the Royal Army Medical Corps; the benefits and pension would be worth his while, not to mention what "an experience" it would be. Bullshit. All he had to his name was a limp in his right leg and a bullet to his left shoulder, both of which left him unable to practice medicine. Did he also mention the PTSD? And the fact that his so-called "pension" from the army was barely enough for him to pay the rent and that was about it? Yeah, what a wise move it had been for him to join the fucking army.
With no extra money to spend, and desperate of finding any job to do John had soon found himself with little, if any options. It was all thanks to an old army-buddy, well, more like a buddy of a buddy, that John found himself working as a bloody escort to Diamond Date Services. Still, it was better than rotting away in the dingy flat he could barely afford so John did as he was told. It was liberating to be treated just as "Jason", the decent-looking nice bloke who was amiable with both sexes and treated everyone with respect. If anyone noticed the slight tremor in his hands, well, they were nice enough not to mention it.
John soon realised there were worse ways to live than being an escort. He had managed to avoid the awkward sex encounters so far, but some of his regulars have been… quite persistent as of late. Particularly one Dawid Tsyplakov, a wealthy Eastern European business man who was used to getting what he wanted and didn't take no for an answer. So far John had been able to dodge Dawid's unwanted attentions with neatly placed excuses and charm, but one day there might be a time when his wits wouldn't be able to help him. John really hated to resort to violence, but damn if he was going to let the slick most-likely-a-criminal to have his way with him. Even if it meant losing his job.
Hence John finds himself standing at the bar of the most popular club in London, The Talisman. Rumour is there are all sorts of legal and illegal stimulants to be had at The Talisman, and John is eager to believe the hype - not all of the dancing could be attributed to just alcohol. John closes his fist more tightly over his glass of club soda - he never drinks while working. Partly because he doesn't want to look unprofessional, but mostly because he likes to keep his senses alert. Old habits die hard, and even after all this time John is still a soldier at heart.
A light tap on his shoulder and the faint woody smell indicates that his date for the night has arrived. John sighs mentally before plastering a fake smile to his face and turning to meet Dawid. The younger man is impeccably dressed to the nines as usual, and his whole demeanour oozes confidence and arrogance. Many of the dancers, both male and female, give Dawid appreciative looks - some of them even look at John with thinly-veiled jealousy in their eyes. If they only knew what kind of person Dawid really is, or what he is capable of.
"Jason. It's always so pleasant to see you", Dawid all but purrs, moving his hand from John's shoulder to his arm. John reminds himself that he has a rent to pay and bills to take care of, before covering Dawid's hand with his own.
"Likewise, Mister Tsyplakov, likewise" John murmurs, watching Dawid coyly under his lashes and pretending to be more prudish than he actually is. Somehow he has become very good at acting, which to be frank, is only an advantage in his current occupation. It is all about giving people what they want, or what they think they want.
Later on when looking back to the events of that night, John can pinpoint exactly when his life takes a drastic turn to the worse. There is some sort of skirmish at the dancefloor - somebody touches someone they aren't supposed to or something like that, and there is a lot of shouting and fighting and eventually the security shows up. John only turns his eyes away from his glass for a minute to check out what is going on and how he should react to it, but that is enough. After that, things get a bit fuzzy.
John vaguely remembers following Dawid to his BMW and driving away. They finally park in front of The Milestone Hotel where Dawid had been living the whole time John had known him. Something about privacy and full service and whatnot, but what would John know? He was only an escort. Then it all turns black.
John wakes up with a start; his head pounding. It takes him a moment to register where he is, but then he realises he is lying on what appears to be a very posh bed with all his clothes on. John tries to sit up, but the world is spinning around uncontrollably. It almost makes him vomit there and then, so John closes his eyes, trying to will the spinning to stop. It fades eventually, and John is able to take a better look around him.
Ah. So he is in Dawid's apartment. But where is Dawid? And what the hell happened last night?
John gets up, stumbles to the direction of the living room and stops dead in his tracks.
Dawid is there, on the floor, lying in a huge pool of blood. Blood that is still wet, so it means whatever happened to Dawid is very recent. His doctor's instincts take over, and John rushes to Dawid's side, checking for any sign of life. He could… yes, he might be able to save Dawid if he works fast and calls for help. Yes, help! Where is his mobile? It is nowhere to be seen, so John grabs Dawid's phone from the table, dialling 112. While he waits for the call to connect, John starts CPR, counting compressions under his breath.
John has no idea how long he has been doing CPR when the paramedics finally arrive, but his arms are burning and his head is spinning. The paramedics are asking him all kinds of questions he can't answer for the life of him, and soon it becomes evident Dawid can't be saved. Not even after all the work John did to save him.
What happens next is something John should have known was coming. At first he is praised for trying to save a life, and the next moment he is being questioned by the bloody police. What a mess his life is, and it's all his own doing.
The female sergeant interviewing him is rude and unlikable, to the point it makes John want to slap her. Which of course he doesn't do because his parents raised him better - and because hitting an officer would only make things worse for him. The sergeant, Donovan, does not seem to believe that John doesn't remember what happened between him and Dawid the night before. She just keeps on accusing John of murder, and trying to cover his tracks "by performing dummy CPR so that it would look like he was trying to help".
At that point John snaps and tells Donovan exactly what he thinks of her so-called interrogation technique. He is a doctor for god's sake, and he has sworn an oath to preserve life, not take it! He served his country in the army and this is what he gets? A string of blatant accusations that have no basis whatsoever, only because Donovan wants to solve the case as quickly as possible.
A deep voice interrupts John's tirade, telling Donovan that she is so wrong about her accusations it's almost comical. John looks up and sees a thin and tall stranger, with black curls and an air of confidence around him. The stranger then continues his speech, by pointing out to Donovan that she really should check John's blood for Rohypnol because of the memory loss. Oh, and the real murderer is Dawid's wife, fed up with Dawid's infidelity. The scent of the floral perfume in Dawid's clothes should match the one she frequently uses, and if they would check the laundry room, they would find the bloody maid clothes she used to sneak in Dawid's room unnoticed. With those words, the stranger marches out from the room, leaving Donovan boiling in silent rage besides John.
An older man with silvery grey hair tells Donovan to do "what Sherlock said, because he's usually right" and all but steers her out of the room. The man then introduces himself to John as DI Greg Lestrade and apologizes for all the inconvenience Sergeant Donovan has caused. Lestrade then asks John to give his official statement on how he knew Dawid and what he can remember from the previous night later on that day at the station. For now, John should go the hospital to have his blood taken so they can verify Sherlock's theory about roofies.
John agrees, and a uniformed officer escorts himself to the hospital. After the blood test John is at loss what to do. He probably does not have a job anymore - even though he's not a killer, he was still present when one of their regulars got killed. It really does not look on his resume, so to speak.
"Afghanistan or Iraq?" a deep voice asks somewhere on his right.
"Sorry?" John mumbles, turning to look at the thin and tall stranger he last saw at the crime scene.
"Which was it, Afghanistan or Iraq?" the stranger repeats his question, looking at John with a bored look in his face.
"Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you know…" John starts, only to be interrupted.
"How do you feel about the violin?" the stranger continues, now turning to look John straight in the eyes. With very beautiful blue eyes, John adds mentally, and suddenly he wants to know more about this cryptic man.
"I play the violin when I'm thinking and sometimes I don't talk for days on end. Would that bother you? Potential sex partners and companions should know the worst about each other", the taller man says, his voice moving to a lower register.
"Who said anything about sex partners and companions? How did you know about Afghanistan?" John questions, even though he already knows the answer to the first question. He can't deny he's feeling very attracted to the other man - it's been a while since he felt like this about anyone. The tall stranger is clearly from a wealthy family, if his clothes and the way he holds himself are any indication. John briefly wonders what a gorgeous man like that could possibly see in an ex-Army doctor turned to an escort like him, but then ditches the sentiment there and then. If a tall, brooding stranger is interested in having sex with him, John really has nothing against it.
"I have a nice little place in Central London. We'll meet there tomorrow evening, 7:00," the stranger says, his eyes fixed on John.
"Is that it?" John says, trying to imagine what the stranger looks like beneath his clothes. Probably all too skinny and sinewy, but those eyes and voice really make up for it.
"Is that what?" The tall man asks, raising his eyebrow questioningly.
"We've only just met and we're going to go jump straight to bed?" John continues.
"Problem?"
"We don't know a thing about each other. I don't know where we're meeting, I don't even know your name" John quips, only because he's desperate to know the other man's name.
"I know you're an Army Doctor. And you've been invalided home from Afghanistan. I know you've turned to an escort because you couldn't figure out what else you can do, with your war injuries preventing you working as a qualified doctor. That's enough to be going on with, don't you think? The name's Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221B Baker Street. Afternoon."
With those words the stranger disappears.
Sherlock Holmes. Hmm… now John has a name to the face, and an address to be at. Maybe this whole murder thing wasn't so bad at all.