Gunshot rang in his ears, and a blinding pain overcame his whole body.
"I'm hit, I'm hit!" he shouted, crouching down behind a broken wall. He could feel himself fading, but he could still hear the screams and shouts of his comrades.
"I have to get out there and help!" John yelled to the junior medic who came to attend him. He pushed the young man's trembling hands away and tried to crawl away from his cover spot towards two other fallen soldiers.
His attempt to get onto all fours failed as his left shoulder crumbled beneath him. "Shit!" he mumbled weakly as everything went dark.
Captain John Watson was later invalided home from Afghanistan.
"We are releasing your brother tomorrow, Mr Holmes." the doctor said nervously, studying his notes. "Despite his initial resistance, he has made good progress, and we think he would be better recovering in his home environment now."
Mycroft nodded. Sherlock had been in rehab for 7 months, since Greg Lestrade had discovered him during a drugs bust in Soho. He had instantly called the young Holmes' brother, and Mycroft had used his considerable power and influence to get Sherlock the best treatment available.
"I shall arrange for him to stay here in London with me." Mycroft informed the doctor.
And so there were two new beginnings.