The Tumblr Crackficlets Headcanon - Gran
Of course, John Watson knew the stories about his Grandma Peggy or just “Gran,” as all the grandchildren called her.
She was a tough, no-nonsense woman who actually saw action during World War II and there was that whole story about her work for the SIS and the Strategic Scientific Reserve that everyone was strongly encouraged not to talk about. But as a boy, John would sit and listen to her telling the stories about the Yanks she’d ended up fighting alongside and he giggled at the antics of the ones she called the “Howling Commandos.”
She had pictures of some of these men. John’s favorite was of the one she called “Steve” because he was, like John, small and slight and didn’t look like anyone’s idea of a “tough guy,” as Gran put it. But according to Gran, he was the strongest and bravest of them all.
But she’d also tell him about how she met Granpoppy, who was an Army doctor during that terrible war and he’d see those dark brown eyes soften and she’d always say, “He brought the smiles and the laughter back to me again, Johnny-darling - he was such a funny man, your Granpoppy. And recklessly brave too, though he’d tell me I’d no right to scold him for that, as I was as bad as he was.”
John never had the chance to know this man and perhaps he wouldn’t have known anything about his Grandfather the Army doctor at all, if his Dad had his way. John’s father, for some reason, always hated it when Gran would tell stories about the war.
John vaguely remembers or thinks he’s simply dreamed, an argument between his Gran and his Dad, once. Dad had been at the drink again and that always rendered him in a foul temper.
“It’s because I’m not his son! And you always wanted me to be, instead of being my Father’s boy!” He’d shouted.
Gran had slapped him and her eyes were blazing with both anger and disappointment. “I loved your father. I always will. And if I’m disappointed in you now, it’s because you won’t even try to be half the man he was and has absolutely nothing to do with a man who’s been dead long before you were even born!”
His Dad said nothing after that and John does not remember this but he had, in fact, toddled towards his Gran, not wanting his Dad to shout at her anymore. It was Gran who had shushed him, kissed his brow and put him back to sleep.
Gran had been many things - she had been stories and hugs and delicious biscuits and she made the best hot cocoa in the whole world.
It was Gran who also put a gun in John’s hands.
He was twelve years old. And he’d declared to one and all that he wanted to be a soldier when he grew up like his Gran and a doctor like his Granpoppy.
She’d been a strict teacher. This was a weapon, not a toy. And if her grandson wanted to put himself in harm’s way because he wanted to genuinely help people, then by God, Peggy Carter Watson would not have him be defenseless.
So she taught him how to shoot, how to fight and how to survive and John, after seeing his Gran’s marksmanship skills even at her advanced age, made not a single complaint but listened to every single blessed word and then some.
“You are coming home to us, John Hamish Watson and you are coming home to us alive, do you understand me?” Gran had told him sternly and John knew an order when he heard one so he said “Yes, ma’am” as quick as you please.
His beloved Gran had lived long enough to see her grandson in uniform and long enough to see him come home, from his first posting, safe and sound. And when he invited his Gran to a dance, because she’d made him promise that he’d dance with his Gran the first time he made it home, the look of joy on her face was something he’d never forget for as long as he lived.
Note: John had to inherit his Mad Shooting Skillz from somewhere, right?
Katiescaps at LJ for the Peggy Carter Screencap
Aithine dot Org for the John Watson Screencap
Oh my god. My heart can’t take this.