AN- Hi everyone, this is my first story, hope you like. I'm looking for a beta, so please PM me if you are interested. Please let me know if you like the story so far or if you have any suggestions. I apologize for any spelling/grammar mistakes, this account is so I can work against my learning disability. Have a nice day everyone!
Disclaimer- I do not own BBC's Sherlock, even if I wish I did. Only the ideas are mine!
"Hey, Sherlock, it's OK," John says as he wrapped me in his arms. "I'll be back before you know it. Sh-sh, come-on, it's okay, love." I can't respond right away, I throat has closed up with the tears streaming down my face and onto Johns shirt.
"But why did they have to call you back up. You were discharged a year ago, for God's sake!" I bury my head in the crook of my husband's neck, trying to lock John's sent in my mind palace before he has to go and join the group on the plain.
"I've told you this, Sherlock, and I know you remember, with that incredible mind of yours. And I also know that you wouldn't delete something this important. They need more soldiers, especially ones who know what they are doing out in the field. It will save the army a lot of time by not having to train as many people, let alone for a second time." He gently reminds me, carding his fingers through my hair.
I can't help but think about my John as he is right now. So much smarter than he was when I first met him, after he had been discharged. Currently fitted in a dress uniform, my husband was a striking man who is up for anything is sent his way. My Captain John H Watson-Holmes.
"Don't be an idiot, Sherlock. I will be absolutely fine, I will come back to you and Mrs. Hudson. I will be fine." He tries to reassure me.
"But I don't know if I will be." I whisper. Sherlock Watson-Holmes, not knowing. It seems like a ridiculous idea, but after falling for this man, and him being pulled away from me by the idiotic army, I don't know if I'll be able to function without my John.
One year later
How have things been in London? How have your cases gone? I can't believe that it has been over a year since I last saw you, and how much you have changed. Working for, sorry, with, the Yard and finding something that you really enjoy doing. Afghanistan is the same, but we have had a lot more casualties coming in, so many that I get called up sometimes to act as another surgeon, even if I'm now a combat soldier. Speaking of which, they are moving my unit up to the front lines next week, so writing might be even harder than it is known. I don't want you to worry, even if I know that you will anyway.
Tell me about your cases. Any interesting serial murderers since the last time you wrote? If so, please be careful, love, I don't need a call, or more likely kidnapping, from your brother while I'm stationed at the front. Don't let Anderson and Donavan bother you too much, when I get home on leave, I'll have to stop by the Yard and set them all straight. Just because they haven't met me doesn't mean that we are not a happily married couple, even if you play your violin when you need to sleep!
I'm sorry love, but I have to go, there are more casualties coming in, and I'll be needed. Be nice to your brother, say hi to Mrs. Hudson, and don't forget that I love you. Leave will be coming soon, but first I have to go to the front lines. Don't worry. I will be as fine as possible without you here.
I love you, don't be an idiot,
"Mrs. Hudson!" I yelled, after reading the letter for the fourth time. As she ambled up the narrow stairway to the flat, I began to pace. The letter from John had arrived two weeks ago, without another in sight. As my mind ran through all of the possibilities of what could have happened to my husband, Mrs. Hudson finally appeared in the doorway.
"What is it, Sherlock? No word from him yet?" she asked
"No! Nothing!" I threw my hands into the air. "Every week he sends a letter, but none has come. Yes, I realize he is on the front lines," I say before she could ask, "he was quite clear in his letter that communication may take longer, but absolutely nothing has come through!" I launched myself into the sofa.
"Sherlock, dear, do you think it might be time to ask your brother? He is always willing to help out for the doctor. Or maybe take on a case, what do you think about all of those suicides? It's quite horrible. Oh, maybe see if a case has come through from the website!" Mrs. Hudson probed me.
"Fine, I'll send Mycroft a text! There has to be something going on."
"I'll leave you to it, dear, it's time for my soothers anyway.
I dug through my desk for my mobile, can never find the damn thing. Although I loath asking my brother for help, I see no choice in this case. My John has never been late with a letter before, and I don't see why he would start now, the idiot would never make me worry. Ha-ha! Stupid little bugger was behind the jar of eyeballs in the cabinet!
(AN underline Mycroft, italicized Sherlock)
Brother, do you have any information you would like to share with me about my husband? I find it strange that there he has not contacted me this week. SH
I was waiting for your text, little brother. Your Captain's unit was moved to the front lines two weeks ago. While on a mission, his unit was ambushed. He has been in a MASH* unit for a week and a half now. I was going to tell you, but I have been… preoccupied. MH
You are an idiot for not telling me. SH
No, just busy. You do realize that I hold a minor position in the British government. MH
You are the British government. For not telling me about John's condition, I ask for a full file on what happened, him to be moved to Barts as soon as possible, and a favor. SH
Seeing no need to respond, I might as well clean up the flat as I wait for Johns file. He would be coming home soon, and a clean flat is the least I can do for my doctor.
"Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson yelled. "There is a lady at the door for you! Come down dressed, young man, and be polite, or I will write John!"
"Getting dressed is boring, Mrs. Hudson, there is no point in doing so right now." I replied, dashing down the stairs. I knew that it would be Morgan, Mycroft's assistant, with Johns file, by the sounds of a car pulling up to the drive of the flat building. No one in London had brand new tires on their car except Mycroft at this time of year.
Reaching the door, I said, "Hello, Megan, I believe that is for me. Is that a new necklace? I know my brother's guard is sweet on you, but I wouldn't keep in so fast, you're already sleeping with him, for God's sake. And while on the job. Tisk, tisk."
"It's Anthea today, Mr. Holmes. Here is everything on your husband's injuries." She turned around and went to the car that was pulled to the curb. "Have a nice evening."
"Sherlock, no need to be so rude! What did she mean, is John hurt?" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed.
"Yes, according to my brother. This will tell us just how bad it is."
I ripped open the manila envelope and pulled out the chart.
Captain John H Watson-Holmes. Critical condition. Three broken ribs… Concussion… Skull fracture… two bullet wounds, one to the left shoulder, one to the right thy… Abrasions… punctured lung… My John… Everything is too much. Too much information- the sounds of the street, the people chatting, the noise of the city, the smell of the sewar. It's too much. Things start to go blurry.
"Sherlock? Sherlock, are you okay? Dear, you don't look so good." Funny, Mrs. Hudson's voice sounded further and further away from me. The black filled the rest of my vision.
AN- Hope you like it so far, even if I left you with a cliffhanger! I'll try to update at least once a week, but please understand that I am a very busy high school student! Leave a review and tell me what you think, constructive criticism is always welcome.
* A MASH unit was a Mobil Army Surgical Hospital, they were used in the Korean war. I don't know if they still use them today, but I wanted John to still be somewhat close to the front lines for right now.