They, at last, get to the flat he smiles at it, loving it already, Sherlock begins to get secondary school in Criminology and Detection. The pair works well together, with John's training completely done now... Until something comes up... There's a new uprising in the Middle East, and the Army wants to send John to help fight, as well as be an army medic.
"John..." It's clear Sherlock doesn't want him to go. They just got settled in together. He doesn't want to go either, with his original intention to be to start teaching medical students this year, and with Sherlock here... but he has no option in the matter.
"I know, Sher." Sherlock bows his head overwhelmed with his own sadness.
"I'll wait for you."
"And I'll come home to you." The words could very well be a lie, and they both know it, but neither admits to the fact. Sherlock is patient he waits each day for his John to come back. He passes each day in his own little turmoil. John made him promise to never turn to drugs or cigarettes. John sends letters when he can, but they are further and few between, slowly stretching out longer as the fighting gets more intense, before finally, one comes from the Army official letter with a professional type.
John Watson has been injured and will be invalidated back to 221B Baker Street on the eighth day of the sixth month of the year 2017
Sherlock prays it's something minor, and when John finally gets back he finds the flat empty of his. He gives a humorless laugh at the fact, berating himself for having hoped for just a little bit of normal, and just goes to sit on the steps, shoulder throbbing with the injury that had been wrought upon it. It wasn't extremely serious but it was enough to put his arm mostly out of condition. Sherlock comes busting up the stairs, files for a case in hand.
"Hello, John. Can you hand me my smartphone?" He asks, nose deep in the case. He does as he's asked, now falling back into a bit of a routine, with his tall genius. Sherlock holds the phone while looking at his microscope.
"Text the number over there on the wall." With a light sigh, he once more does as he's told.
"Send exactly these words"John is military now, I can't be in two places at once." He frowns, confused, but does as he's told, though he doesn't send it
"Alright, can I get an explanation before I send this please?"
"Lestrade needs me on a case and John is in Afghanistan..." Sherlock finally looks up, realizing he's talking out loud to someone, without engaging them at all.
"John!!!" John just gives a short laugh, "Did you forget about me, you git?"
"No. I've been trying to keep myself busy."
I know, love. I'm teasing. Now since when do I work a case for you?
"Since both Lestrade and Mycroft want me on something." A short nod and he touches Sherlock light before saying,
"I think this text is rather a moot point, is it not?"
"Now that your back." Sherlock grins brightly. He's thrilled to see John again.
"Exactly." But John winces, his hand going to touch his shoulder.
"You're hurt" Sherlock whimpers softly.
"Yes, and now, I'm almost always going to be hurt, Sherlock. It was a bad injury, and it won't ever fully heal. It's a miracle I kept my hand."
Sherlock frowns "Let me see it." John does as he's told, stripping off his jacket and shirt, revealing the rather large nasty scar, still healing. Sherlock takes out a strange looking cream and begins running some over the wound. it feels much better. John relaxes slightly, feeling better with the pain fading somewhat, and he murmurs.
"That feels good"
"I've been practicing on myself a lot."
"What have you done?" The concern that takes over John is immediate. Sherlock lifts his sleeve, tiny scars go all the way up his arm, some are awful and didn't seal very good, even with his healing cream, others are neat and white, well faded. John takes his arm, running soft hands over it before he meets Sherlock's eyes, voice firm and sad.
"Sherlock, what did you do to yourself?"
"I got bored"
"That's not an answer."
"You said no drugs. This was my answer... I'm sorry John." John just takes a steadying breath and pulls him close, holding Sherlock tight against him as he whispers apologies in Sherlock's ears.
"I should be sorry." Comes the soft whispers, that Sherlock returns.
"I left you alone. I left you without anyone to look after you and make sure you didn't get bored. My fault."
"That's not completely true." Suddenly there's another knock at the door.
"Sherlock I swear if you have those damn blades out again I'll ship you to John in a cardboard box! Unlock this door!" It's Greg's firm voice. A slow grin spreads over John's face as the sound of his old rugby teammate, and he goes to open the door himself with a sarcastic.
"I don't think that'll be necessary." Greg drops the box he was holding, papers scattering over the floor
"You're home..."
"Got home about an hour and a half ago." He says softly, slightly embarrassed, just realizing he hasn't put his shirt back on. Greg just smiles anyway, he's seen the now army man shirtless before.
"Well... If I may intrude on the happy couple, maybe the three of us could go out for a few beers and catch up with the last two years?"
YOU ARE READING
I'm Still Just Human
FanfictionSherlock Holmes never was one for emotion. Or so he thought he wasn't, he was in a beautiful relationship with his long time friend John Watson, that is until John went away to Afghanistan. One wrong choice, and in the wrong place at the wrong time...
