John/Sherlock Friendship - Not Slash

"John! Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson called from the downstairs. Only John looked up as their landlady entered their flat, "There's some young ladies here to see you!"

John and Sherlock hadn't thought much of the car wreck, it'd been eight months since, and they really hadn't expected to see any more of the distressed mother, Mary Morstan, or her little girl, Emma; especially after the mother had realized that John had been hallucinating while he was treating her daughter.

She had gotten abusive with her words at the hospital before rushing into the ICU.

Sherlock sighed, "Send them up." He wasn't all too interested in anything, lacking a case like he was; it was to be expected, but his demeanor changed when he saw that it was Mary and Emma Morstan that had stopped by for a visit.

"Doctor. Sherlock." Mary greeted as young Emma trailing behind her on her crutches. How she made it up the stairs so quickly, John would never know.

"Ms. Morstan, what a surprise." Sherlock greeted back, "What can we do for you?"

"I'm actually here for Emma. She's been wanting to come here ever since she was released from the hospital last week."

At that point Emma limped forward. She was biting her lip and fidgeting some. Whatever she had to say, it was important.

"Dr. Watson, I-"

"John, please." She gave a shy grin.

"John." She paused, looking up at him, flushed, "Thank you for saving me." And with that she gave him a warm hug.

John was surprised, happily, and returned the embrace, "You're very welcome."

She pulled back after a second, less nervous, and grinned again. John copied her this time.

Sherlock watched bemused at the two, but when the little girl limped over to him, he began to get nervous. Under any circumstances, he did not want a hug. He didn't care if she was eight years old, he would refuse any advances that could lead to such an action, and as a result eyed her with suspicion.

"Thank you too." She whispered, eyes downcast to the floor. John shook his head; obviously the poor girl was intimidated by the anti-social man perched on the sofa. John could tell he was thinking of ways to avoid the on-coming hug and watched patiently.

Sherlock gave a curt nod, believing he'd evaded the no longer inevitable embrace, "You're very wel-" Sherlock didn't get to finish his sentence, as the child leaned forward and gave him a kiss on his cheek.

John tried to suppress his laughter but found that it was not possible. He couldn't hold out against the oncoming wave of giggles and succumbed to their malicious ways.

Sherlock, however, sat perched on the edge of the couch. His brain had been momentarily pulled down for repairs. Emma smiled at him, having completed her mission, and then limped back to her mother before giving an affirmative that she was ready to leave before fleeing down the stairs as fast as a child with crutches could muster.

Mary stayed behind, eying John who just sat in his armchair, still giggling.

"Doctor Watson."

John looked up, "Yes?" The giggles were residing now.

"I want to apologize for back at the hospital. I called you awful things back there, and… it wasn't right." She paused, "The doctors at the hospital said if it wasn't for you she would have never been able to walk again. I thank you."

John flushed some and scratched the back of his head, "No, no, it's alright. I would be angry too if a hallucinating madman started doctor my child after a car accident. You had every right."

Mary nodded and turned to go back down the stairs, but she paused, "John?"

"Yes?"

"I have to ask… did... did Davies survive?"

John stared.

"I'm sorry, you were talking… about it, I mean. On the street. And I was, I wanted to know if… did he make it?"

"Yes, he did."

A pause.

"All of us did."

Mary gave a warm smile, "I was hoping he had. Thank you."

She left.

The door closed slowly.

Sherlock turned towards John.

"Davies didn't survive."

"No."

The Taliban had charged over the edge of the sand dune three or so hundred meters off. Bullets were raining down like mad. Bombs were going off. Taliban were dropping like flies as Watson and his two men took cover behind a dune.

Suddenly Trevor began to choke on his own blood and fell down, dead. Lifeless eyes.

He was shot through the heart.

Then the helicopter off in the distance was under attack. A rocket launcher went off and he watched slowly as the missile ran straight into the flying machine, immediately killing everyone inside with a huge and loud explosion.

Davies was dead.

Then Cassidy fell forward, screaming in agony. Watson looked and saw he'd been shot in the back.

He too then fell silent.

John had been the last to go down. He bit his tongue and he collapsed.

He'd been shot in the shoulder.

The battle was over and Arabs swarmed the area.

Captain Hoffman was dead. Corporal Gordon was dead. Corporal Hansen was dead. Private Davies was dead. Trevor was dead. Cassidy was dead.

He chuckled.

Captain John Hemish Watson was soon to be dead too.

He watched as they bent over Trevor and kicked him slightly, in a mockery sort of way.

Watson snarled out something in their language, telling them to leave his men alone. They did.

They focused on him instead.

One of them, the leader, smiled as he wandered about John before smashing the butt of his rifle into wound on John's leg.

John screamed in agony and rolled up.

The Arab then spoke in his native tongue, "You are a broken man" He laughed, "A very broken and stupid man."

Both he and Cassidy spent three months in the Arabs captivity. They'd been tortured and treated like dogs.

And at the end of the third month, England had arranged for their release.

Both of them were invalided and cripples.

Only John survived.

Yes, I do not like Sarah all that much. I think Mary's a much better match for John. ^^

Let me feel the love! Press that button like you're never pressed it before! 8D