[There they were, sitting at the table in absolute silence while starting at the stick that made Watson oh so talkative. It made him talk about the war, the utter hell he went through on a daily basis that consisted of nothing but bloody soldiers, nearly half of which didn't survive their recovery because of they were in less than ideal environment. How every night the only way he every got any sleep was to stare at the stars after trying to drink the war away.
Then the Jezail bullets. How one nearly took out his knee and after he'd recovered from that, the one that hit his shoulder, nicking an artery that nearly making him bleed out there in the desert; the typhoid he contracted when they patched him up. And just how terrible he felt for leaving all his friends behind in that place just so he could heal in safety.
Watson sat, rubbing a hand over his mouth, eyesight not once deviating from that blasted stick. He never talked about the war. No one needed to know. But they did, and;] You should try it. [He finally dropped his hand to nudge the stick closer to Sherlock.] It... truly does alleviate you quite a bit.
RNG rolled 7, if you'd like a Ritchie!Watson?
Then the Jezail bullets. How one nearly took out his knee and after he'd recovered from that, the one that hit his shoulder, nicking an artery that nearly making him bleed out there in the desert; the typhoid he contracted when they patched him up. And just how terrible he felt for leaving all his friends behind in that place just so he could heal in safety.
Watson sat, rubbing a hand over his mouth, eyesight not once deviating from that blasted stick. He never talked about the war. No one needed to know. But they did, and;] You should try it. [He finally dropped his hand to nudge the stick closer to Sherlock.] It... truly does alleviate you quite a bit.