AN: Hallo :) Profuse apologies about my other Sherlock story, I am trying to finish it but I've hit something of a wall... For now I offer you this. Its something I've been toying with for a while.
Trigger warning: To be safe I'm gonna say that this story could include anything that you would associate with war, including death. It is possible that things will get quite grim.
PROLOGUE
1st July, 1916, Somme River, France
It's all rather unfair when it comes down to it.
When you know what is coming and that you can't stop it.
There is fear first. The atmosphere is full of it. But for them it passes. They are not afraid, not really.
There is sadness. They are thinking about another life, a life that wasn't lived in cramped and muddy holes or under threat of things that wiz and bang. It's alright though. They won't shed any tears for that life. They're together for now so its okay. It's just a shame…
But then there is anger, of course. And the anger can be battered down, it can't be overlooked or justified because it's just too unfair.
Not because of the fear or the sadness. They would have taken the fear and sadness, they'd have taken the mud and cramped little holes. They would have taken the things that rattle and the bangs that drag you out of warm safe sleep. They'd have taken anything for just a little more time.
But then, would any amount of time have been enough, really?
They don't talk because there's nothing left to say now. Besides, they were never ones for talking much anyway. Even if they wanted to, they don't have the words. They don't have a way to say them.
So, for a time, they just exist. They sit and they drink tea and breathe the same air.
They wait and they savour the time they have, and they try to forget for a little while just how unfair it is.