All my life

Aged 17

He'd kept the letters hidden from James, under his mattress, reading them whenever he was alone. They kept him sane, the letters, as they arrived, one after another.

Then it had happened.

Sherlock heard late at night. He was at his mother's house, staying there for a couple of weeks. It came as a call, from someone he hadn't seen for a long time. He knew something was wrong the moment it started beeping. No one calls at two-fifteen in the morning.

Sherlock,

I half-expected you to just lose my address! I'm thrilled you didn't, obviously. It gets a bit lonely out here. I go to sleep every night to the sand brushing against the desert floor, no sound from the other soldiers, just in case there is someone out there. They all treat me like a little kid, call me Johnny boy, but it's not that bad. Just gentle ribbing. When I'm not the new kid anymore, it'll stop.

I haven't left the camp yet. I've been training with the present army doctor, Robert. He's alright but a bit strict. Guess he has to be. One of the other soldiers told me his younger brother was here with him and he got shot sometime last year. Rob couldn't save him.

Now I'm just being depressing.

Write to me soon, Sherlock, yeah? I like hearing from you. Oh god that sounds weird.

John :)

He'd shot out of bed and picked up the phone, heard the deep voice of the girl he hadn't seen for three years, heard the words (shot, shoulder, bleeding on the brain), and slid onto the floor, refusing to believe, refusing to accept her words, telling her to stop lying.

Three words had snapped him out of it.

He's in danger.

Sherlock,

Alright! Thanks for your latest letter- can't believe you went back! Was Mr Smith still there? Is he with Miss Oswald yet?

It's ok here. The food's shit and it's baking hot, I'm so tanned and I spend most of my time inside! I treated my first patient yesterday. Fairly routine, I suppose. He'd got tangled in some barbed wire and I had to stitch him up and it felt great. Robert said I was doing great.

Robert's a bit better with me. He's in the bunk next door and we chat at night, when everyone else is asleep. He's twenty-four, from Kent. Nice chap.

I'm not the new kid anymore, thank god. A new sprog (that's what they call them) came in a few days ago. Poor thing's barely sixteen, jumps every time someone fires a bullet on the range. Robert says he'll last about ten minutes.

Oh, got to go- the Major wants me. Look at me, Sherlock. I'm being needed.

John :)

His mother had run in, sitting next to him, holding him and rocking him back and forth as he cried and screamed. Siger had called Mrs Watson, finding out where he was, and then he'd hailed a cab.

He had taken Sherlock's hand and told him to come with him. Come with him to see John.

Sherlock had picked up the last letter and gone with Siger.

Sherlock,

It's raining! For the first time in months, it's raining! I've been here for two months and it hasn't even rained once, and Robert says it hadn't rained for months before that. The soldiers are all running around outside, having mud fights. It makes me miss England, her rain, her storms. Remember when we were kids and mum took us to the beach? There was a huge electrical storm and you went swimming, trying to collect data. I had to jump in and pull you off to shore when you hit your head on a buoy. You were so daft, Sher. You really were. What am I saying? I bet you still are.