"Shot in the thigh!" Manchester was shouting into the back of the tent. "Watson! We need you out here, now!"
"Hang on. Hang on. I'm a bit busy at the moment." Captain John Watson called back. Manchester half carried and half dragged the bleeding man around one partition in the tent, into the view of Doctor Watson.
"Doctor Watson, this man has been bleeding out for almost ten minutes, if you could please get around to him sometime before he dies!"
"Yeah, well, as soon as you learn how to stitch together fatal wounds so you can finish this for me I'll get to him. Until then, let me finish putting this man's arm back together. When I am done here I'll see to him." Watson said all of this while his steady hands move quickly over a bloody arm with a needle.
"Just hurry." Manchester responded, attempting to set down the rapidly paling man leaning on his shoulder.
"Okay. This guy's fine. Let me see who you've got." A very haggard looking John Watson turned to face the bleeding man on the floor. "Get him onto the cot. And stretch his leg out in front of him." Watson had his back to them again and was preparing an antiseptic while getting sanitary pliers out of a drawer on the table to his right. "So, who is he?"
"This is Colonel Sebastian Moran of the 1st Liverpool Line. Shot in the leg at 2100 hours." Manchester laid Moran out on the table taking great care not to upset the leg in question to much.
"Moran," Watson briefly looked up at Manchester, "I've heard of him. He's a sniper, right? I looked up to him in training. Good soldier."
He set to work getting the bullet out of Moran's leg with the pliers, causing a scream to come from the man laying in front of him. "Hold still. It has to hurt before it gets better." Watson dislodged the bullet from Moran's leg and let it plink against the metal dish placed next to him. He got out sterile gauze and wrapped it tightly against the man's blood soaked uniform trousers. Moran grimaced against the pain, but he held up far better than anyone else Doctor Watson had seen with this kind of injury.
"Alright. You need to get your rest. With this kind of wound you may even get to go back home." John Watson smiled at the thought. He almost wished he'd get shot just so he could go back home.
"Thanks, Doctor Watson." Sebastian Moran said from the bed. "I've heard of you too, you know. Quite the field doctor." Doctor Watson smiled and turned to the next bleeding man who'd been brought into his medical tent.