Some unapologetic angst and a dose of old fashioned h/c. (Also a couple of naughty words - well, John was in the army - and some non-graphic injuries).
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A gunshot. John drops the mug, hot tea splashing over his fingers. Broken china skitters across the kitchen floor. Outside, someone’s screaming. )
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I really enjoyed this fantastic look at John, that he thinks it's 'not so bad' i the end, and the wonderful way you put your words together for this fic. I like that Sherlock knows that Mycroft will fixate on the gunman and that he wants to make sure that Lestrade is the one that deals with it, that it's Lestrade he turns to for justice and fixing this even whilst it's Mycroft that's making sure John can see him and helping so far as he can. Brilliant, thank you :)
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