John/Sherlock Friendship - Not Slash

"You're being ridiculous." Sherlock snapped at John as the two walked along the busy street. The night was just like any other, there were tourists, and other Englishmen. Cars never stopped and the air was slightly chilly. It was nice though, it was a nice night, except for the murder which had taken place just hours before. Sherlock and John were on a case, and getting walking back to the flat from the crime scene. Currently, John was upset that Sherlock had intimated that he and Sarah were breaking up. Not only that, but Sherlock also 'suggested' that John would like to have a shoulder to lean on, possibly female, so that John could 'get over' the feeling of self-hatred he was 'apparently' feeling.

A newbie on forensics, Katie Monroe, had offered her time, being unaware of Sherlock's anti-social antics and tendencies.

"Ridiculous? Sherlock, that was totally uncalled for! What reason could you possibly have for doing that?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and continued walking, ignoring the question. He wouldn't dare to inform John that Sarah was getting ready to break up with him. He'd seen all the signs, the little quirks that weren't there or different before the case that John dubbed 'The Great Game'.

It was only a matter of time before she dropped the bomb, and John would need someone who knew how to handle break-ups to help him through it. Sherlock had absolutely zero experience, and admitted that he would be unable to handle it properly. Enter Kate Monroe.

"Sherlock, are you even listening to me?" John was fuming; and it looked like conversation would end up going on all night.

"John, I-"

Sherlock had begun to respond with a snarky comment to attempt to end this absurd interrogation, when the sound of burning rubber and screaming women reached his ears.

Within seconds the street was blocked up with cars and a crowd was gathering in the center of the mayhem.

Sherlock and John ran to the middle of the commotion, weaving through the crowd, to see a young girl, about eight years old, displayed in front of the car. She was displayed in a twisted and bloody mess, as, of course, was to be expected after having an impact with a car.

Her mother knelt over her body, crying. She was holding her hands just centimeters above the body, knowing better than to move the girl. The driver was still in shock, sitting dumb-found inside the car. She was a young teen, probably just got her license.

Sherlock turned his attention back to the mother.

"Emma!" She cried, "Oh, someone help her! Please!"

People in the crowds were already on the phone with 999, while others began talking amongst themselves. A Bobbie somehow appeared the middle of this mess, "Everyone calm down!" He shouted, "Is there a doctor here?"

John stepped forward and knelt down beside the girl and checked her vitals.

The Bobbie grabbed John by the shoulder, "Sir, I need you to get-"

"I'm a doctor!" John snapped, wrenching his shoulder from the cop's grasp. The bobbie took a tentative step back, John had no doubt startled him with his gruff attitude and demeanor.

Sherlock shifted, he'd never seen John's Army Medic side. He'd never seen what he was like on the battlefield in Afghanistan, now he had.

The Bobbie went to talk to John again, but Sherlock grabbed his shoulder, "I'm sorry for my friend there." Sherlock enlisted the help of a friendly smile, "He's an army medic, best there is too."

The officer nodded, Sherlock had obviously disarmed the man, he wasn't disconcerted anymore. Sherlock thought about how a simple smile worked wonders on people into allowing practically anything and scoffed at humanity's idiotic tendencies. After a few moments, however, he was getting restless and began to rock on the balls on his feet. Sherlock was impatient and agitated, "John, what's the prognosis?"He asked hastily.

"His leg's dislocated, Trev; I need to set the femur. Hold him, would you?"

Captain Watson squinted as the glare of the sun bounced off the sand and hit him square in the eyes. He wished he'd his sunglasses with him, too bad he'd lost them in the fire fight.

Private Timothy Davies was a young lad, he was strong and brave… currently he was in a twisted mess on the floor suffering from severe injuries and was bleeding profusely. John was working on stopping the bleeding, but he had to hurry. Those bloody Afghanis would be along any moment with their high-powered rifle machine guns.

Watson winced at the thought of them; they'd already killed Captain Hoffman and Corporal Gordon, while he himself had been shot in the leg. It was never good when a team's medic when down in a firefight. Never good.

The bleeding was slowing, but he was going to have to set the dislocated leg back in joint, or he'd never be able to walk out of here. It was going to bloody hurt, and he'd need someone to hold the lad down.

"Johnny, what's the prognosis?" Welsh suddenly spoke up; he had always been medically incompetent.

"His leg's dislocated, Trev; I need to set the femur." Trevor Welsh was John's best mate on the team; John could count of him to hold the lad down properly, "Hold him, would you?"

Trevor was hesitant but stepped forward as he was told, and knelt down beside his friend before moving to hold the lad down by his shoulders.

John set the leg.

Davies winced and moaned, almost let a scream out, but held it in like the brave man he was. Watson patted his shoulder, "Good man!" He feigned a grin, "You're gonna make it through this one."

"He's going to be okay?" Corporal Joan Hansen asked, getting more skittish by the moment. The Taliban could be just around the corner.

Watson looked up and sighed. The heli' would be along in five minutes, but Private Davies wasn't going to last the two if he didn't stop the bleeding, and that would take med supplies he just didn't have.

"He'll live if we can get him back to the base at Kurn. But the heli's got to hurry up; I can only do so much in this blasted desert!" Watson was just going to have to think of something to keep the man alive until the heli' arrived, so he set to work ripping strips out of his cameo shirt, it looked like he was going to have to make his own bandages after all. John had wanted to avoid it, after all a dirty uniform wasn't the best dressing for wound, but infection of not, they needed to get moving. Time was not something they had on their side.

However, Hansen had had enough of waiting; she looked back and forth before finally rushing to Watson's side. "We need to go!" She hissed, grabbing Watson's shoulder, "He's going to die! You can't do anything about it!"

"Corporal." Watson growled, "Where's your medical degree? I'm the best chance he's got at the moment!" Watson began to wrap his make shift bandages around the leg and the other wounds, "You need to trust me on this one."

Hansen persisted, shaking the medic's shoulder, "But-"

"Look at him!" Watson hissed, "I've stopped the bleeding and his leg's back in joint. He's conscious and alive and will remain so, unless I leave him!"

Hansen released him.

"You never leave a man behind." He hissed quietly as he continued to treat the fallen comrade, "Never." Hansen backed off, back to her post. She looked back towards where'd they come from and nodded. They could all hear the enemy off in the distance. Time was up, but they couldn't move, and helicopter wasn't here just yet.

"I'm going to stall them, give you guys more time." She smirked, "Welsh, Cassidy… I'm leaving Johnny and Tim to you." The two nodded with a grave salute. She gave a hollow smile before the young American woman ran off towards the approaching threat. They would have protested, but chances were, it wouldn't have mattered either way. They were all going to die today.

They all realized that.

Watson continued to work on the young boy at his feet. He smiled as he told him pleasant things. He told him that he would live; that they were in this together, no matter what; that Johnny wasn't going to let him die; and that he was a good kid. And soon enough, they heard something in the distance. A helicopter.

The aircraft landed a few meters away and two medics piled out and rushed toward them.

"How's he?" One shouted over the roar of the helicopter's engine.

"Stable, at the moment!" John replied, "But he needs to get back to the base! He won't survive otherwise!"

The medic nodded, and together they readied the young man for transport. Once Davies was inside the helicopter and ready to go, Watson took one of the men by the shoulder, "He's part of my team! Make sure he survives!" It was more of a threat than anything, but the medic took no offense and nodded with an affirmative before the copter began to ascend skyward.

Now to handle the Taliban until back-up arrives.

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