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@wtsns
𝚆𝚃𝚂𝙽𝚂. a headcanon heavy portrayal of doctor john hamish watson, from bbc’s sherlock. penned by beta, 23. mature content will be presented on this blog, trigger warnings for childhood abuse & alcoholism. themes of ptsd are heavily present. mutually exclusive. nsfw & other triggering content will be tagged accordingly.
# G4LDEN … jeon jung-hwa. golden voice. ex-member of the idol group CHECKMATE. up-and-rising soloist. an original character, as lovingly inscribed by astra. it's a hard pill to swallow, this emotion i bottle — need somethin' strong for the sorrow,, somethin' strong for the pain so i can wash it away.
hello, hello! if i do end up coming back here, i'll most likely archive this blog and make a new one, especially since it's been so long. cheers!
hi ... just me, checking in. letting u know that i miss y'all lots ... i'm almost at the end of my nursing program now, can you believe that? i'll graduate in december ... crazy. anyways. miss you all! kiss kiss.
hello, my little sweetpeas. <3 i am very, very busy with nursing school at the moment, two classes going at once and all that ... but in another few weeks, i will be done with my maternal/child class and only have my acute health class to focus on, so hopefully that will give me some free headspace to be here! i am desperately, desperately trying to get through this program in one piece this time, so i will graduate in december and be able to get my rn license. (if you know my struggles with the program, you know. it's my third try, and i'm determined to do my best this time!) i miss you all dearly, and i hope you're all doing well! i hope to be back to you all soon. :)
SHERLOCK | Martin Freeman as John Watson
yells into the void, i got a 98 on my comprehensive hesi i feel so GOOD
not me realizing at 11:55pm that it's john's birthday and i completely missed it ... anyways, happy birthday you silly old man :')
muse for j.ohn is a bit * fart noise * right now, i've been in deep w k.pop things + school (i only have a month left in this semester, can you believe that?) so uhhhhh yeah! i'll be back sometime.
Sherlock: You’re a doctor. In fact, you’re an army doctor. John: Yes. Sherlock: Any good? John: Very good.
He's a doctor!
Bonus:
Part of Khan had expected the doctor to faint on him. Another part, however, becomes incredibly nervous at the sudden change of events; To make sure that the other is still alive and has not just died on him, Khan briefly lets go of John's arm to feel for a pulse at the neck instead---
It's there. It's rather strong even, and continues to grow stronger the more seconds pass between them.
Which means that Khan's blood is working, that it is healing Watson, fighting against the poison while repairing the damage that has been done. Good. Yes, good. ---Thank fucking god.
The relief that washes through him is of such intense nature that it causes Khan to shiver for the briefest second - his composure is collecting itself soon however, attention focused on the task at hand once more. Slender fingers returns to the other's arm, holding it steady as Khan keeps their injuries pressed together for a little longer - they're not done yet, after all, John needs more. A lot more.
---
They're back on board of the Enterprise.
After managing to hold their position for a bit longer, Khan - as well as the other security officers - had been able to request backup, which had promptly appeared in the form of more security, more shuttles, more efficient weaponry; They're not meant to fight in wars, definitely not, but they're equipped to defend themselves - that's something, at least.
So, in the end, they'd been able to carry the injured ones away from the battlefield, bringing them back up to the ship - including Doctor John Watson, who remained unconscious for the whole of the act. He'd been brought to Medbay, where Doctor McCoy had taken over - but since Khan's blood has managed to keep the other alive for so long, even helped him recover to a certain extend, they had agreed to have a proper blood transfusion going to get more of that liquid into the seriously injured man.
So, Khan has done precisely that; Given more of his cells to John, which had improved his vital signs immensely over the span of about half an hour. It worked so well in fact that - once Watson was stable, the poison removed completely from his body, inner injuries healing successfully so - Khan had then proceeded to give more of his blood to other crewmembers who had also been hit by those daggers, effectively saving most in this way.
Hours have passed since then, the ship becoming quiet once more, things calming down a bit in Medbay as well. Khan himself sits on a biobed across of John's own, being monitored by some medical devices as he's given quite a lot of his own blood; McCoy had insisted for him to stay, just in case the immense bloodloss was going to kick him into unconsciousness as well. It did not, but Khan can still feel it, the exhaustion that clings to his bones. He knows it's only a matter of time - a couple of hours, perhaps - until he'll be completely fine again, and he also knows he could, in theory, just go on with his life. No need to keep him here.
But he won't complain. So he just sits there and waits, gaze occasionally trailing over to the blond he's managed to safe from sure death.
is he dead? he can’t quite tell. it feels like he’s been floating in an expanse of nothingness for a long while, silent bliss, perhaps just on the other side of the veil. but, then . . . he’s vaguely aware of some familiar sounds reaching his ears. the steady pulse of monitoring devices, low chatter of medical personnel ⸻ the stinging smell of antiseptic that often comes with earthen hospitals. but, this is no hospital room. the medbay of the enterprise greets him, and instead of being one of the doctors treating his injured crewmates . . . he was the one in a biobed.
a groan escapes him, feeling incredibly stiff. that was to be expected, of course, considering the amount of grief the poison had caused to his body. but . . . he was alive, unexpectedly. he shouldn’t have survived that. eyes blearily blinking, only his head able to turn ⸻ he feels incredibly weak. it might take him some time to fully recover, even if the poison had been eradicated from his system. gaze sweeping the medbay, he finally lands upon the one who had saved his life. “ khan. ” john’s voice is hoarse from disuse, but he hopes it at least sounds relieved. “ you . . . i owe you everything. ” it was nothing more than a fellow soldier saving his life on the battlefield, but out there with such uncertainties, he hadn’t thought he’d make it back. and yet, it was thanks to the man sitting in the other biobed that he was safe and sound. there’s not enough ways to express his gratitude for that.
Yes, that's precisely what Khan is planning to do:
To give John some of his blood.
And he has to do it in the most unsanitary and ineffective way possible; Not that hygiene is an issue in any shape or form, as Khan's cells will just eradicate whatever germ might try to enter the other's body alongside his blood, but still. At least Khan knows that his blood can help the other, that there is a chance for Watson to survive this if he executes his plan---
"Stay awake!" Once again, his dark voice basically cuts itself through the air - a command spoken by a leader, a ruler, a dictator, someone who does not accept a 'no' as an answer. Khan is fueled by his adrenaline pulsing through his own veins, hyper-focused on his task at hand as he brings the stone to his own forearm, and then...
One quick motion follows, the makeshift blade slides along the skin of his inner forearm with ease; Red appears almost immediately, telling of how deep he's cut himself in an effort to keep his own injury open for as long as possible before he has to do the whole thing all over again. Khan's attention is on the doctor's own arm then and he does not hesitate, repeats the motion on the skin he finds there, not caring about any possible discomfort that could occur.
John Watson is dying - cutting his forearm open like this is a necessity at this point.
So, Khan does that: The stone scratches along the tissue, creates an injury that starts to bleed within seconds, a straight line from the elbow all the way down to the wrist. The stone is put to the side and Khan knits his brows as his one hand curls around the doctor's arm, holding it, as he then presses his own injury right on top of the one he's just caused on the blond's frame.
"---Stay awake, stay awake, stay awake..." A mantra repeating itself again and again as Khan watches, nostrils flared, teeth bared, a frown stretching along his sweaty features; He can feel his own blood seeping into the opening of Watson's forearm, blue eyes flicking over to the man's face to watch it closely.
And as Khan's cells enter the doctor's system, it mixes itself into the man's circulation, his blood, being pumped through the whole of that body. Since Khan cannot give a lot at once, as he usually would with the help of a transfusion, it takes a little longer... but his blood does what it's supposed to, attacking the poison, starting to repair the damage that has already been caused to that weak man's existence.
He just has to hang on for a little longer...
"---Can you hear me? John? Stay awake! Don't give up just yet, you need to fight for a bit longer!"
a yowl of agony, flesh torn open without a care in the world. the poison has certainly numbed a lot of parts of him, by this point, but he can definitely feel that. there’s no antiseptic out here in the battlefield, no anesthesia to numb the pain of getting his arm sliced open ⸻ but, this is a war, and needs must. someone’s trying to save his life in whatever way they possibly can, no matter how unsanitary it might be. and oh, how his every instinct screams to shove khan away from him as open wound presses against open wound, blood that isn’t his own seeping into him. drip after agonizingly slow drip enters, his stomach swirling with nausea. he’s going to be sick. he’d like to be sick, and yet, he can’t look away.
it’s like liquid lightning in his blood, if it is even entirely his blood at this point : heat, red hot, racing through him at hyperspeed. he’s dying, and yet . . . he’s alive. his white blood cells don’t even have any time to try and attack the intruders, because suddenly they are khan’s white blood cells, eating away at the poison like it’s absolutely nothing. it’s like a shot of pure adrenaline into john’s system ⸻ the world becomes clearer, sound sharper, his surroundings like crystal. it’s almost too much for the doctor, and while he’s able to stay awake for only another moment . . . the energy’s gone, just like that, and unconsciousness claims him at last.
Whatever this poison is those daggers were coated with - it is eating itself through the other, and Khan can basically watch it happen with each second that passes. Watson isn't even giving him an answer anymore, and the reaction to the slap is of much more dull nature than it should be...
A set of nostrils flares as Khan's blue gaze rests upon the other, then flicks back and right, taking in the sight of his surroundings.
There's no way for them to make it to a shuttle - or the Enterprise, for a fact - in time, before the blond will perish from his injuries, organs shutting off one by one as the poison continues to do its work. Who knows if any of the medical equiptment a shuttle holds would even be of help at this very moment? As much as humans have managed to evolve when it comes to medicine, able to fight off most diseases existing on earth - the Universe is massive, and diseases as well as poisons exist there that might be unheard of, currently trying to take the life of innocent people that do not deserve to die in such a way.
There's only one thing Khan can do in an attempt to save the doctor from succumbing to his fate, and it's... questionable, probably. Not to him, obviously so, but he's sure that everyone would protest against what he's going to do.
But he has to. If Khan wants this man to survive, he has to take the next step.
So, with his gaze returning to the other who is starting to drift further and further away, Khan groans; He pulls the sleeve of his left arm up, then scrambles with his surroundings for a bit, trying to get his hand onto something that will be sharp enough to cut through skin and tissue. He cannot use those daggers, obviously, so Khan huffs out a low noise as he reaches for a nearby, small rock, which he slams against the bounder and causes it to shatter---
Good, one piece actually ends up being sharp and pointy-ended. This is what he needs, this is what will - hopefully - assist in going to save the other man's life.
"---Stay awake!", a low voice repeats, the tone of it equally as sharp as the makeshift tool is, while Khan rips open the sleeve of Watson's shirt in return to expose his arm as well. "I need you to stay focused, John! You know what happens when you fall asleep on me, don't you? ---You're a soldier, a doctor, you have seen others die this way - so try to fight against it!"
what is khan even doing? there’s the sound of rock against rock close by, followed by the sound of ripping fabric. then comes the firm reminder of staying awake, reminding him what would happen if he allowed himself to slip down into the welcoming embrace of unconsciousness. he knows. he’s well aware that staying awake will allow him to fight this for a bit longer, as long as he possibly can, but . . . part of him doesn’t want to fight it. he’s weak, at this point. things in his body are slowly shutting down, one by one, and he’s fading fast. perhaps this is where he was meant to meet his end, on some unknown planet somewhere out in the universe. he wondered if harry would come to the funeral service, if she hadn’t drunk herself to death yet. he hasn’t heard from her in a long while, nor had he made any efforts to go and see her when he was down on earth. that last thought makes him feel a bit guilty.
and yet, he manages to open his eyes once more. ah. that was the sound of his own shirtsleeve being opened. khan’s got some sort of . . . rock in his hand, his sleeve rolled up as far as it could go. it takes his hazy brain a moment to connect the dots, but suddenly he understands ⸻ khan intends to give him blood, in an attempt to heal him. would it even work? he doesn’t know how much of his body that the poison has actually affected, and he doesn’t even know what sort of function that he has. he can’t even move, for god’s sake. perhaps it’d be better just to mark him as a lost cause, and let losses be losses. was he even worth trying to save?
totally didn't realize about it being 2.21 day today ... god, i miss my boys.
Things had gone very, very wrong within a fraction of a second; Khan had felt it, the subtle change in mood, the palpable tension that had occured right before the conversation had turned sour and led to aggression as well as flying daggers. He'd tried to keep things under control, but - well, he's not the Captain, he wasn't meant to intervene, but he's here to protect his crew from possible assault.
He's just one man, though. There's others, obviously, more security that has accompanied them on that mission... but neither of them had expected the whole moment to go up into flames like this. They're trying to keep the damage low, pulling crewmembers away from the middle of the battleflied, providing satefy and coming up with a strategy to figure out what to do next - and yet they're unable to prevent injuries from happening, causing shouts of pain to be heard on both sides, some aliens getting hit by the shots of their phasers while humans are hit with daggers.
Those don't seem to be ordinary daggers, though; To Khan's left, John Watson crumbles, and he can literally smell the chemicals that are evaporating into the air as soon as the blades cut themselves into the flesh of the other's thigh---
His body immediately jumps into action, covers the injured doctor before an arm hooks around the blond's frame; Khan pulls him up with ease while his other hand holds onto the security-grade phaser, shoots a few rounds into the crowd of alien enemies, taking three out at once that had tried to attack them during the whole process. Once done he drags Watson to the side, around a formation of rocks and boulders, where he lowers the injured human before crouching next to him---
"---Stay awake!", is what Khan says, noticing how quickly the other seems to loose consciousness, weakening with every second that passes; Blue eyes take in the sight of those daggers and Khan knows that removing them will increase the bloodloss, but keeping them inside within that leg will cause more of that supposed poison to seep into his tissue---
So, just like that, he doesn't even hesitate. One dagger after another is pulled out in quick, rough movements as there's no time for him to be gentle - or careful - about the matter at all. He throws them to the side, conveniently uses one of those things to hit an approaching enemy in the throat with it (who collapses right after), before his attention is back on Watson, a hand coming up to give that face a slap. "Stay with me, try to remain awake, do not fall asleep - do you hear me, doctor? I need you to try and remain conscious!"
there’s a cacophony of sound and light. the battle’s still going on around him, he’s aware of that, but he can’t make head nor tail of what’s actually happening. then, khan jolts him upward, and the pain that blooms throughout his body in response pulls a guttural groan from his lips. he’s moving, he’s acutely aware of that ⸻ and then he’s back on the ground again, propped up against some rocks. it hadn’t been too much movement, from point a to point b, but it’s almost enough to make him sick. STAY AWAKE! it’s extremely hard, especially when the poison coursing through his system is threatening to shut everything down. he feels woozy, blinking blearily as he attempts to follow khan’s orders.
but, at least you’ll die in battle, won’t you? like the true soldier that you are. things up here have always consisted of combat of a different kind, and you suppose that spending most of your days in the med bay left you a bit unprepared. but, here you are nonetheless.
more pain. it’s duller than it should be, due to the way that the poison has already infiltrated most of john’s injured leg, but he can still feel something. that’s a good sign, at least. through blurry vision, he sees khan yanking dagger after dagger out of his leg, watching numbly as his blood starts to pool on the ground. ah, shit. it’s like being down on earth all over again, unable to do a damned thing as you watch people desperately try to put you back together, to save you. he’s already been through this once, he knows how this goes. although, he’s not so sure that this time will have such a favorable outcome. there’s a firm slap to his face, then, a desperate bid to keep him awake and lucid. but, he’s slowly losing that battle too, he knows. he hasn’t got much time left. john’s trying, he really is . . . but, his eyes are sliding closed against his will, feeling himself starting to sink lower and lower.
the doctor was a name of fairytales. whispered on the wind like a well-kept secret, an explanation for when things went just the tiniest bit wonky. must’ve been the doctor, and his big blue box. while sherlock holmes was rooted in fact, john watson believed in the something more : things like fate, reading just a bit too much into daily horoscopes, LUCKY LOTTERY NUMBERS. it’s a beautiful thing, the suspension of disbelief ⸻ to think there’s a little something more beyond the veil, if you just look hard enough.
there’s something in the air today. asda bags tucked underneath arms, struggling in the slightest to lug the shopping back to the flat. is it a surprise that sherlock had neglected to do the shopping? certainly not. for a man so logical, it was almost like he believed food would magically appear in the fridge and pantry when he so desired it. biscuits did not just materialize out of thin air. but, yet . . . blue telephone boxes did. it happens when he’s passing an alleyway, a strange sound reaching his ears ⸻ turning just so, watching the way the big blue box manages to wedge itself within the confines of the tight space. holy shite. door swings open, @l1sten emerges . . . john’s clutching to the shopping like it’s going to anchor him. is this real?
he’s down. it takes him a moment to realize that there’s a dagger sticking out of his leg, and in that time, he’s hit by another ⸻ and another, and yet another. four daggers sticking out of his leg in different places : he wobbles, for a moment, before slumping down. he can’t see which of their enemies had thrown the weapons, and the pain becomes a steady throb. there was always a chance that he’d get injured whenever he went out on away missions, but fuck, this hurts. the pain is becoming stronger, his blood almost feeling like it’s boiling beneath his skin . . . poison. the daggers were tipped with poison, and the bastard had hit him with four of them. “ fuck. ” he groans out, teeth gritting together. he doesn’t even know where any of his crewmates are, at the moment ⸻ it’s dark, and the terrain is woodsy. all he can see are shadows, and not one of them is recognizable. the pain feels like it’s spreading slowly and quickly all at once, poison working its way through his system. this couldn’t be it, could it? christ, this was absolute balls.
and then, almost as if he’d sensed john’s distress . . . there was @respondedinkind, towering above him. at least he wouldn’t die alone, hopefully. they were a way aways from the transport that had brought them down here, and john had no sense of direction. pain was all that was clouding his senses, red-hot ⸻ he couldn’t even muster a word to his companion, slowly sliding down to lay flat on his back. his limbs felt extremely heavy, at this point. hell, he couldn’t even move his wounded leg. this was it . . . it had to be.
