Soldier without his Detective

Chapter 9

John was glad to see that the initial shock had worn off when they returned from the bathroom. Sami and Bill had both settled and were playing a card game. "Hey Sherlock! Ever play Irish snap?" Sami had called over his shoulder, momentarily pausing their game. Sherlock took hold of John's hand and pulled him over, sitting next to the men. John sat next to him and Sherlock moved closer. Their hands still clasped. "Deal us in."

Sherlock was surprisingly amazing at the game. Bill's hand was bright red. They had made the mistake of going easy on Sherlock. It was a game they played during most of their down time, it was a great stress reliever and was quite fun. Sherlock would slam his hand down with great force that he made the soldiers hesitate. And yet, he never struck John. Instead he just leant against his side.

John looked down at the hands. His own was a startling shade of red. Sherlock's - even redder than John's. He looked over at Sami and Bill. Their hands were red, the skin slightly raised. He saw the grimace on Bill's face as Sami's hand hit his. They had been playing for a while. John was placing his cards on autopilot as he spoke. He wasn't playing any attention to what ones were placed. His pile growing rapidly. Sherlock took hold of half his deck. "You okay?" Sherlock whispered against his ear as he took the cards. John mentally shook himself. "Yeah, yeah. Last game boys, alright." John got stuck back into the game. He lost.

They had all climbed into bed. Sherlock curled into John's side. He held his hand, kissing the back of it. They held onto each other. Neither sleeping, even as the snoring of the others filled the room. Sherlock lifted his head to look John in the eyes. "I love you." Their lips connecting in a lazy kiss. "I love you, too." They share another kiss. Sherlock lies back down on John's chest and they drift off together.

In the morning, John slips out of the bed leaving Sherlock to sleep. He began to dress. Pulling his uniform on he didn't notice the eyes that were looking up at him. John turns around to collect some more of his things. He can see Sami and Bill following the same routine he is following.

A smile had been plastered on his face since Sherlock had surprised him the day previous. He finishes dressing. Usually they all talk in the mornings to wake each other up. This time they were moving in silence, surrounded by the early morning light. None of them wanted to wake Sherlock before necessary. John was buckling his belt and straightening his shirt when long arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him down. He let out a yelp as he fell onto Sherlock's lap. Sami and Bill began to giggle, and Sherlock gave John a kiss.

"Stay here. Alright? I'll be back for you later on. I love you, you brilliant, amazing man." John was mumbling against Sherlock's lips. He heard Bill and Sami leave. They shared another kiss and stood. Sherlock went about straightening his clothes again. John stared into the eyes of his lover as his fingers smoothed over his body. They share another kiss before John leaves to do his rounds. Sherlock picks up the pictures next to the bed and flicks through them.

All John could think about was the man sitting in his barracks. The time crawled. He saw Bill, who gave a look of sympathy whenever they caught eyes. John threw himself into the work. Almost as if he worked faster then the clock would move faster. He knew this wouldn't work and he was making himself tired, but what if it did work? What if he went at his normal pace and the clock did in fact work like that? He also knew he was starting to go a little crazy. Turns out that's just what happens when a certain lanky detective is waiting for you.

Just before he could leave to get some food - and just so happen to end up in his barrack - a nurse stopped him. "Attack. They're bringing in wounded now. We've got bullet wounds, possible surgeries." The nurse disappeared to prep. This wasn't rare. It happened often. That didn't stop John thinking it was the universe's big middle finger to him. He went to prepare the surgery tools he might need. He would just have to see Sherlock later.

John was performing surgery on a child. Shrapnel had become lodged in his chest. John had been slowly pulling all the small pieces of metal from the kid. He looked so small and frail on the table. This was the third case like this he had so far. There were more he would need to help, this was just the smallest that had come in. He was rushed through as soon as he came in. Children were a priority. The rhythmic sound of the shrapnel hitting the metal dish kept John's mind occupied. He hadn't thought about the time. He hadn't seen the clock. He hadn't even seen the lanky detective standing next to Bill, watching John work.

He finished cleaning up the child and moved onto another person. Bullet wound. He worked. Reaching to his side he saw he ran out of gauze. His other hand pressing on the man's chest John shouted, "Nurse! Gauze!" His gaze stuck on the man before him. Looking over where he needed to apply pressure, and what other injuries the man had. He felt a presence next to him, without looking at them he took the offered bandages. He kept working. The nurse kept handing over everything John would need without him having to ask.

They worked together. The nurse stayed out of the way as he worked. Just as John was fixing the last bandage he said, "Thank you, nurse." His gaze still on his moving hands. "That's no problem, John." The deep baritone was enough to make John's breath stop as he finally looked away from his hands. John gave a massive grin, which was happily returned. "Help me with the next one?" Together they worked to patch up the wounded.

"So, I told you to stay in the barracks. Why are you here exactly? No that I mind." John was pulling more shrapnel out of someone and placing the metal into the dish in Sherlock's hands. They had been working in near silence until then. "Well, I heard about the wounded. I knew you wouldn't eat. So I brought lunch. I gave some to Bill and some of the other nurses. You were working too hard to notice. It's still waiting for you." John looked up at him, then over at the nearby nurses. Everyone near was smiling knowingly at him. He shook his head as he heard Sherlock chuckling at his reaction. They kept working.

They were back laying in bed. Mycroft would be here to collect Sherlock any moment. They worked together all afternoon. Stopping to have a quick snack before working on the next person. Sherlock stayed out of everyone's way. Helping anyone that needed it, but mainly staying by John's side. This time John was laying on Sherlock's chest. Thinking of the day they had shared. No one had questioned why Sherlock was there, they just worked with him.

John lifted his head when Mycroft entered the room. He looked the man over before putting his head back on Sherlock's chest. Neither had spoken about their separation, just like last time. They knew it was coming, but somehow, saying it aloud would make it too real. Mycroft doesn't move. Just stands in the doorway, looking over the room. He doesn't look at the two men.

Reluctantly, John sits up. They stand and hold each other tight. "I love you." Both mumble the words against each other's lips. Breathing in the scent of the other. They pull apart. John reaches for the sheets and hands them over to Sherlock. A hand on Sherlock's cheek, John pulls him into a gentle loving kiss. He stands back and lets the man walk away. Mycroft turns to look at him after Sherlock walks out of the room. "Stay safe, John. He needs you at home." He gives a stiff nod and leaves after his brother. John stands in the empty room trying to control himself. Trying to keep it together. This time it seemed harder. He stood chewing his lips, tears fighting to break through. He won't let them.