Chapter One
"Watson, what the hell are you doing?" Greg Lestrade hissed as John slipped on his boots. John turned around and squinted as his eyes adjusted to the dark. He caught sight of Greg sitting upright and rubbing his eyes.
"Going for a walk." John lied, feeling the ground for his misplaced dagger.
"A walk?" Greg whispered incredulously. "It's the middle of the night and there's a camp full of Red Coats not two miles away."
John knew that. John knew that perfectly well. He had been spying on the camp for weeks now. The camp consisted of nearly 25 soldiers all commanded by a young officer who appeared to be incredibly inexperienced. They served no actual threat to John and Greg's regiment.
John's intentions on this particular night were much more than spying. He had observed the patterns of the troop camped just a mile and a half from him and had every right to believe that they had since migrated to a new camp. They would be gone for at least a night or two. While they were gone, John Watson was going to rob them blind.
"Relax, Lestrade. I know what I'm doing."
Greg snorted dubiously. "What'll I tell General Sholto when he notices you're gone?"
John shrugged and grinned. "Tell him I went to visit your wife. Someone's got to attend to her now that the butcher's been killed."
"Hope the bloody Red Coats catch you. It'd serve you right." Greg mumbled, shaking his head.
John just smiled as he crept out of the camp site. He should have felt bad about lying to his best friend, but he didn't. He wasn't doing anything wrong, after all. He was just stealing a few supplies from the bloody King's army while they were off playing toy soldier. He would share the spoils of his victory when he returned.
He walked the familiar route to the Red Coats' site, careful to avoid making any unnecessary noise. An owl hooted its warning overhead.
Even the fucking owls are tories, John thought to himself with a smirk. Though they might not be if old George could find a way to tax them, too.
When he stumbled upon the familiar sight of twelve tents neatly placed around a firepit, John paused. He was fairly certain that the site was abandoned, but he did not want to take any chances. If the Red Coats caught sight of him, they would know that there were more Patriots somewhere in the woods.
After a few minutes of waiting and listening, John crept along the row of tents. He headed straight for the largest tent - the officer's tent. There would undoubtedly be food and clothing lying around there.
John turned to survey the camp site one last time before ducking between the tent flaps and creeping in. It was even darker inside of the tent than it was outside. John suddenly wished very much that he hadn't traded his last pack of matches to Mike Stamford. The extra pair of socks that he had gained from the trade were doing him little good at present.
With a sigh, John felt around the tent for supplies. They needed coats - though preferably not red ones - they needed food other than the preserved fruit that they had been subsisting on for entirely too long, and they could certainly use liquor. John would have been perfectly content with just the liquor, in all honesty.
"I think you may have the wrong tent." A dark voice suddenly drawled from behind him.
John's heart tried to leap out of his chest. He instinctively placed a hand over the area to prevent its escape before whipping around to face his opponent.
It was the inexperienced officer that John had seen handing out commands so many times before. He wasn't quite as tall as John had thought he was, but he still managed to tower over him. John could only stare up at him with wild eyes.
"Mm, a little late to pledge your allegiance to the King, isn't it?" The officer asked in a predatory tone, nodding towards where John's hand was clutching at his heart. John hastily dropped his hand.
"I'd never." He growled, standing up and feeling for his dagger.
"Hm." The officer didn't seem particularly concerned with John or his dagger. "If you aren't here to betray the patriots, then pray tell, what brings you to my tent so late at night? Judging from your behavior, you haven't come to kill me or my men. You've ignored the parchment that my second in command decided to leave in the open, so you haven't come as a spy, either. Are you acting independently?" He cocked his head to the side and watched John curiously. There wasn't a hint of a threat in his voice. There wasn't a hint of fear, either. He seemed completely at ease. John replaced his dagger in his pocket and dropped his hand to his side.
"I came for supplies." He admitted.
"Is that right?" The officer wondered. He strode across the length of the tent and pulled a box of matches out of his pocket. He lit a candle. "Sorry, you don't mind, do you? My father always told me that it was impossibly rude to carry on a conversation without making eye contact and it is a bit difficult to make eye contact in the dark."
John stared at the officer uncertainly. The light revealed that he did not have a single weapon with him. John was certain that the light also revealed the glint of his dagger, but the officer did not seem to pay it any mind. His posture was relaxed and his eyes were on John's face.
John took a moment to look the officer over for a moment.
He was tall enough, John supposed, and certainly filled his uniform out nicely. Not like the lot he had waiting back for him at his own camp. His hair consisted of wild curls that looked completely out of place atop the face that looked so completely serene. His eyes were almost cat-like and the color of the sea. His cheekbones were severe and aristocratic enough to make John want to roll his eyes and punch him in the face. And yet, he didn't. He just stood there, waiting for the officer to say something else.
"So you've come for supplies," The officer prompted. "Is Washington not feeding you?"
"There's only so much food, you know." John answered in the most surly tone he could muster. "We don't all have colonies to steal from."
"Steal?" The officer echoed in a bemused tone. "I would hardly consider it stealing. King George owns these colonies. Everything within them belongs to him."
"It's highway robbery." John insisted.
"And what exactly do you consider this?" The officer wondered, arching an eyebrow at John and smirking. He was referring to John's own version of highway robbery.
John scowled. "A necessary evil."
"Ah." The officer nodded. "I suppose in some ways, you are correct. Stealing will be necessary for you if you have any hope of surviving the winter. Your entire army looks thin and sickly. I doubt that any of you will last much longer."
"We'll last as long as we've got to." John asserted.
"I'm glad to hear it." The officer remarked.
"Why's that? Got a taste for the war?"
"On the contrary; I have never felt more out of place in my entire life."
"I've noticed."
"Have you?"
"It's not very hard to see."
The officer smirked. "Clever you."
"I'm sorry, why haven't you had me arrested yet?" John asked, unable to stand whatever cat-and-mouse game this officer was trying to play. "You've caught me in your tent and I've confessed to being a patriot and trying to steal from you. Shouldn't you whisk me off to be hanged or something?"
The officer shrugged, still smirking. "Probably, but that's a bit less interesting, isn't it? Anyway, I doubt that I have the manpower to subdue you. All of my men are away for a weekend of training, as luck would have it. Or was it something other than luck? You seemed awfully confident that you were alone when you entered this tent."
"Thought everybody'd left."
"Mm, you are clever. A rare quality to find in that ragged army of yours. Are you sure that you won't pledge allegiance to King George? I think I would quite like having you in my regiment."
"I'd rather be hanged."
"Oh, I don't think that's necessary. So many men are already dying - letting one live won't change the outcome of the war. Why don't you tell me a bit about yourself? I think I might enjoy your company while my regiment is away."
"Do you think that I'm your prisoner?" John demanded thickly.
The officer shook his head and waved his hand in the direction of the open tent flaps. "I think nothing of the sort. You're free to go whenever you'd like. It's clear that you already knew where the camp was before tonight. There is no doubt in my mind that your accomplices share your knowledge. Killing you won't preserve the secrecy of our location. Spending entire nights alone in the middle of a continent that loathes you just gets a bit exhausting. Pleasant conversations become strangely appealing after a while."
"I won't tell you anything about my troops."
"Good. This whole war is boring me."
"Who are you?"
"Sherlock Holmes. And might I ask who you are?"
"John."
"No last name?"
"Is one necessary?"
"Not at all. It's a pleasure to meet you, John."
Hey, look, my first chapter! I know that I have other fanfics in the works right now and this is hastily written and the dialogue is 100% not true to the time period, but I was sitting around thinking about the fourth of July, which turned into thinking about a Revolutionary War AU, which turned into an inexplicable need to write it before I exploded. The good news is that I've already finished it. All six chapters exist and will be posted at some point before or on July 4th. I hope you enjoy it! :)