'You kill people.'
Silver eyes swept over John’s frame, taking in the bruises on his face and the bleeding gash above his eyebrow.
'Only when absolutely necessary. You, on the other hand, are an invalided soldier who goes out every night looking for a fight, because the threat of not surviving to see another dawn is the only thing that keeps you alive.'
That resonant voice sounded at home in the shadows, as subtle as the blades John had seen slide from beneath his sleeves. ‘There’s always a war if you know where to look. Especially for an ex army-doctor who doesn’t know how to stop fighting.’
John sucked in a breath. ‘How did you…?’
'Tan lines, military bearing, mild gun callus from infrequent firearm use and a surgeon's hands.' A dark eyebrow lifted, and a crooked smile tilted shadowed lips. 'Obvious. If you're interested in more than this —' He gestured to the six men lying on the ground around them. 'Then maybe you should consider digging a little deeper.'
He turned to go, the worn leather jacket he wore so supple it moved without a sound.
'Wait!' John took half-a-step-forward, not knowing what he was doing but well-aware he couldn't turn his back and walk away. 'You saved my life.' The admission wasn't nearly as galling as it could have been, perhaps because John recognised another soldier of sorts when he saw one. 'I don't know how to thank you.'
The man paused, glancing over his shoulder as if he were reading John’s life story in the space of a heartbeat. Whatever he found, it seemed to satisfy him.
'The name's Sherlock Holmes, and the address is 221b Baker Street. If you want to see another war, come and find me.'
Someone (author, I’m looking at you !) should totally write this AU. A long, WIP, legendary AU. *whimpers*