you were born on april 15th to thomas and rosemary watson as their youngest child and only son. there is an older sister named harriet— harry— that is seven when you’re born. she’s your idol as you grow up, always trailing along after her. It’s through harry that you first discover you want to be a soldier ; you are sat by her side as she watches some war movie late at night on the telly, and you realize then that that is what you want to be. a soldier that fights for queen and country. it’s a child’s dream, yes, but nonetheless real.

your father disapproves of this desire. he wants you to become a doctor just like him ; he wants you to follow in his footsteps. you don’t wish to be a doctor, though. not right now, anyway. but you know that it’s what is expected of you. after all, you don’t want to make father mad, do you? when father is mad, he yells and throws things ; when father is mad, he has a tendency to drink too much and let his temper get the better of him ; when father is mad, his fists tend to fly, leaving bruises on skin.

it is your mother that lets you know that you can do both things. it is mother that lets you know that you can be both a soldier and a doctor, therefore fulfilling both desires. it's official, then, that this is the career you wish for your future. you want to be the soldier, fighting for your country, and the doctor, helping to heal people. it's the perfect plan, and you're determined to see it through.

you are only nine years old when harry leaves home at sixteen. it makes you cry for days on end, your sister fleeing the house late one night. you blame yourself ; she had came to your room beforehand and had laid down beside you like she had always done, tucking you in and kissing your forehead. why hadn't you noticed that she was planning on leaving? why had you not questioned it when she had said for you not to forget about her? you know what had pushed her away ; you had seen it, the way that father would be angered whenever harry had brought her friend home, the girl that she kisses outside under the tree, the girl that she had introduced you to.

father gets worse as the years go on. his drinking gets much worse, his rage more often an occurrence. he ends up losing his license to practice after a patient dies in his care as the result of his drunkenness. that's what finally seals the deal ; mother divorces him, and the two of you move to a house in the countryside when you're thirteen. a fresh start, though the scars remain, as you will soon find out.

you're sixteen when you meet him, a boy that makes you smile. a boy that you want to kiss, a boy that you want to hold close like the girls you've been with. but you cannot. you hear father's voice in your head ; you hear the horrible words he had yelled at your sister, the horrid names he had called her. the way he had said she was a freak, the way he had told her she was going to hell. your sister had been brave ; you are not. you cannot bring yourself to act on the desire that you feel. father is no longer around, but that fear still lingers. unbeknownst to you, it will always linger, deep below the surface, even when you're a grown man.

when you're older, you attend king's college in london and study medicine. a bachelor's degree in medicine and surgery is obtained, and you then go on to work at two other hospitals, gaining experience in the medical field before ultimately training at st. bartholomew's hospital to be an army doctor, just as you had dreamed as a child. a soldier and a doctor at the same time.

you are deployed to afghanistan, the captain of the fifth northumberland fusiliers. you serve queen and country for three years before you are shot in the left shoulder, a wound that damages you far more mentally than it does physically. you are left with a psychosomatic limp in your right leg that requires you to use a cane, as well as an occasional tremor in your left hand. these things are why you are honorably discharged from service and sent back home to england. you're a veteran now, sent to a therapist to help you readjust to a civilian's lifestyle. you do not want a civilian's life ; you crave the excitement, the danger, even if you will not admit it. you are haunted by the war, dr. watson, but you also miss it.

MIRANDA WESTBROOKE: MAY I SUGGEST A DRINK? BOURBON, PERHAPS? he's surprised to see her, but john's face doesn't show it, expression remaining the same unshakable stoicism it always has. she walks up to him with a look that the man can't quite place, and he's aware of the weight of the guns strapped around his waist, should he need them. miranda has done very little to warrant such suspicion, but after the last 48 hours he's had, john decided he should take every precaution available to him. 'what are you doing here?' asks the man, pausing for a moment as miranda hands him a glass of bourbon. he takes the tumbler of amber liquid, but doesn't drink it, quite yet. he has seen poison do wonders, and john can trust no one. 'haven't you heard i'm a wanted man? it's dangerous to be around me, right now,' @lovest0rie.

AURORA WICK: DO YOU ALWAYS WEAR A SUIT? 'yes,' a simple and truthful answer, one that's accompanied with an equally unreadable look down at rue. sometimes he wondered how he came to have her. kids had been discussed with helen before she passed, but they hadn't been thought of since. and rue is old enough to take care of herself, but - despite never admitting it - john had started to feel protective over her. he wanted her safe. he wanted her out of the business and the danger that he had gotten himself into to. that was his priority, right now. 'it's not just a suit. it's a shield,' hands move up to spread over an already wrinkleless lapel. 'bulletproof. i think we should get you something like it,' @roseguided.