Sherlock & John (A Teenlock Fanfiction)

Chapter Fifty Nine - Deliverance

A/N: this chapter is so sad like no spoilers but DEATH THERE IS DEAtH sorry and before you look at this you might want to review the prologue just in case you're missing any CLUES

John

Dispatching day came too soon. Just a few months after his eighteenth birthday, right after he burned all his Converse and his Bon Iver album, right after he graduated year twelve. (Who the hell was Emma? And why was she forever ago? Couldn't Bon Iver send her a facebook message?)

He kissed his parents goodbye, and told Mary - promised her - he'd return, but not ready. He said he wouldn't be ready.

She said she would wait.

He hadn't heard from Emma, or Harry, or Pickard, actually - just that they up and left from that tiny house in Baskerville (without Pickard, thank God). John was glad to hear that, of course, but in his heart, he couldn't feel happy.

The general he worked under gave him promotion after promotion. Said he was the best in the brigade. His code name was Golden Hawk - he had no idea why, but soon, he was an officer, and then, at twenty-one, he was a lieutenant.

There was a really scrawny Spanish kid in his divison - David Harnos - and the guys on the team always teased him for not having the build, but he was the bravest, the loneliest, and he reminded John a little of a far off boy in a far off town nowhere near Kabul, Afghanistan.

John adored that kid. Christened him, "Ace ."

They had a conversation about their loves. "Yeah, I have a darlin' at home."

"What's her name?" John asked, biting down on a biscuit.

"My momma, my sister and my baby Alice," he joked, likewise eating some shit-tasting wheaty thing.

"Your mum and sis and your girlfriend?"

"Yeah." He removed a picture with their faces on it, all together.

"What about your dad?"

"My daddy too," His brown eyes lit. "He's just not in the picture. What about you? You got a honey at home?"

"A... honey?"

"A girl. You, lookin' all rough and tough and bein' a lieutenant, you ain't got a chick at home?"

"No one. Not anymore." John said, smiling, and he drank some beer guiltily. "Well," he stuttered. "I mean... I mean I did, but like I said, not anymore."

"What's her name?"

"His name was Sherlock." John smiled and looked at his shoes, which were covered in sand.

"Oh, heh!" David laughed about that a little while. "Shhhheeeerlock." His grin slipped a bit. "What happened to him?"

"He died a while back. Shot himself. I haven't heard from his family."

David's face went dark. He spit into the sand and spoke no more, hiding behind a rock.

Gunfire had exploded from behind the treeline, bright pops of light jumping from the sudden sparsely lit forest of Acadias. And John had told him to "stand down, that's an order, soldier," as he scrambled up from their hiding spot and sprinted for the trees, a cantine shaking on his side. John rolled his eyes, his revolver coming up from his side and being aimed into the brush. He shot, twice. A body in the trees collapsed.

And then there was a strange yowl, and a scramble of the opposing side towards David's position, and John was thinking: Shit oh shit oh shit oh shit-