Pashto

Sherlock and John had been working on one and the same case for weeks. A young woman had been killed and the only suspect of the police had vanished before anybody had been able to question him. It turned out to be extremely sophisticated to find this young man who had a very odd and unfamiliar accent according to witnesses. The eye-witnesses also described that the man was walking awkwardly as if he was drunk or as if his leg was broken. Sherlock found the case was boring before but the search for the abnormal man woke great interest in him. After weeks of research and contact with the homeless network they eventually got a hit.

"We found him!" Sherlock shouted when he came running into the living room of 221B Baker Street. John nearly choked on his tea.

"Get your gun, we have a suspect to catch. The cub is waiting outside." Sherlock added while grabbed his coat and his scarf – it was getting cold and dark outside. John stood up, put his cup in the sink and grabbed his gun. He looked outside the window and then grabbed his flashlight as well.

In the cab Sherlock explained what had happened.

"One of the homeless network has seen a man in an abandoned building near the crime scene. He was tall, thin and had spoken in a strange language that nobody understood and it seems that he lives there. He limps, too. It must be him!" Sherlock had been jittery all the time while they were looking for this man and John really hoped that this was the right man because he really wasn´t looking forward to force feed Sherlock. All conviction aside the human body needs food and sleep from time to time.

The cab pulled up and they stepped on the street. Sherlock and John were standing only a few feet away of a house – or more precisely a ruin of a house. It was dark and someone had closed the windows with wooden beams. Half of the ceiling must have been broken away by a storm and a big yellow sign warned every passenger on the street to not enter the building because of the danger of collapse. Somebody had opened the wires in the bottom left corner of the fence which was circling the whole building. Sherlock held it open and sneaked through the whole after John had crawled inside. The beams at one window were open and they entered the building.

"Considering the condition of the ceiling I would assume that our man is hiding in the basement" Sherlock whispered and turned his flashlight on. They found the stairs to the basement after a few minutes of searching and Sherlock started going down.

"Wait!" John whispered emphatically. He lifted his gun and held the flashlight under the barrel. He stepped in front of Sherlock and together the went down. John glimpsed around the corner with the gun still in front of him. They were in an empty floor. At the end of the floor was a door to the next room. They approached it.

"Open it on three..two...one" Sherlock opened the door and John moved in and scanned the room. A man jumped off the bed he had been lying on and lifted a gun at John.

"Hey, I wouldn´t do that if I were you!" John shouted with the gun pointed at the man´s had. Sherlock took a step into the room to see the suspect properly and suddenly the figure shivered and screamed

"ودروي او يا زه به ووژني"

Sherlock was alarmed immediately. He was frozen where he stood and his mind was going head over heals to find out what kind of language that was. It sounded arabic but he had deleted much of what he had known about languages years ago because English was the most common language after all. Before he could react in any way to what just had happened John´s eyes widened and he let the gun in his hands sink down slightly. He loosened the grip of his left hand and held it in front of him showing that he didn´t want to hurt the man.

"ټول ښ" Sherlock looked at John and frowned. Where did that come from? He thought to himself looked over to the other man and noticed that he was looking at John now in disbelief and wonder. He lowered the gun and said

"ته وک یې؟" It sounded like a question and John let the gun sink to his side looking at the man in concern.

"My name is John Watson and this is my friend Sherlock Holmes." he answered pointed at Sherlock with the flashlight . Sherlock covered his eyes from the bright light and glared at John.

"Where did you learn Pashto?" he asked and John stepped closer to him so he wouldn´t have to scream over to the man. Pashto Sherlock thought and waited for John´s answer.

"I was in Afghanistan for three years. Army doctor in the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers" Sherlock looked at John and saw the sadness in his eyes. He wasn´t happy to be remembered of what had happened over there. Sherlock stepped closer to John and then took a better look at the man. He was standing as straight as John had been when he first met him and his eyes were looking directly at John. They had the same sadness in them. Sherlock noticed that the man man was putting all of his weight on his right foot and was remembered of John who had been limping when they had met. Fortunately it was psychosomatic.

"You were there too, weren´t you?" John asked and the man turned his gaze to the floor. He nodded slightly and stepped into the light spot of the flashlights. Sherlock held his breath and John was speechless.

"Lost the foot half a year ago. Landmine." the man whispered.

"I am sorry" John said and the man looked up at him again.

"You know how it works over there. One moment you are chatting with your friends and the next you are driving over a bloody bomb and all hell brakes loose. I was one of the lucky ones." After this statement there was a moment of oppressed silence. Then Sherlock made up his mind to not taking the man - who was no threat anymore - to the police and instead stepped in and said

"What would you say if we would shift our current whereabouts to a more pleasant location to talk."

When they arrived at 221B the sun was already rising over the city. John helped the man upstairs and let him sit on his chair. When John disappeared into the kitchen the man addressed Sherlock

"Why didn´t you bring me to the police? I know that it must be about the young girl from a few weeks ago why you were looking for me."

"Only because I am helping the police doesn´t mean that I am telling them everything." Sherlock answered and glimpsed over to John who was making tea.

"He is really lucky to have a friend like you." the man said. He had bviously noticed Sherlock´s glance.

"When I came home I had nobody and I found no work with the damn foot. At first I lived in a small flat with only one room but soon I couldn´t even afford that." He looked over to John who filled the cups with the now boiling water.

"When I look at him I am happy to see that at least some of us had a happy return".

"Not as much as you think" Sherlock said.

"When I came home I haven´t been that much better off than you." John entered the living room with three cups of tea on a tablet. He had overheard the conversation from the kitchen.

"I met Sherlock not until I was invalided home. We both had problems to afford a flat so we became flatmates and shared the rent." he added with a smile.

"Oh, I am sorry, I didn´t know that you were injured too." It sounded serious and apologetic.

"Never mind" John waved his hand.

They talked a lot about the case after that. It turned out that the man´s name was Alexander Monte and that he had been on the street to beg for money when the young woman had been shot in front of him. He had been reminded of Afghanistan and had screamed "get down" on Pashto. Then he had ran away. Alexander was able to tell Sherlock that it must have been a sniper from a very low position so it had looked like she had been shot by him. Later Sherlock found the exact spot where the killer had been hiding and soon the man – who had been an ex of the victim – was sitting in a cell. John examined Alexander´s foot and phoned a friend of his who was working with prostheses. He also introduced Alexander to some of his old comrades who agreed to look after him and find a better place for him to live.

When Sherlock and John were alone in 221B again, John sank exhausted on the chair. "What a day!" he said and exhaled loudly.

"Why did you never tell me that you can speak Pashto?" Sherlock said and put off his coat and scarf. John blinked his eyes and looked at Sherlock. He didn´t expect that question and was startled for a moment.

"Well, you never asked and I was sure that you already deduced everything important about me" he stated and closed his eyes.

"You didn´t have to help the man, you know? It was not your responsibility to look after him" Sherlock sounded concerned and John opened his eyes again because concern was not one of Sherlock´s specialities.

"I know...but I also know how it feels to get home to nothing. I never told you that but before I met you I was really close to living on the street. I do realise how lucky I was to find flatmate so soon because a few weeks later you would have found me on the streets. Maybe even at one of your crime scenes." John showed a faint smile and stood up.

"I am happy to be able to help Alexander. He deserves it." John walks to the door.

"I am going to bed. You should sleep a bit too. I know that you can stay awake for days but..."

"Yes, I should probably go to bed too. Good night" John was astound by Sherlock´s response but didn´t say anything. Instead he nodded and walked up to his room.

Sherlock looked after him and wondered what details he has yet to find about his friend.