After being grievously wounded long ago in Afghanistan, Captain John Watson never thought he would be in uniform again, but as the Great War dragged on, England required the help of all her sons.
Though too old to attempt an ill-fated charge into No Man's Land, Dr. John Watson had years of medical knowledge and a deep well of compassion to offer, so he found himself assigned to the hospital receiving casualties from the third Allied push at Ypres.
The new weapon the Hun unleashed was a horror worse than anything Watson had seen on a case with Sherlock Holmes, and all the more so as the ravaged body on the stretcher before him seemed familiar. Despite the burns, the massive mustard-colored bullae, the clouded eyes and intervening years, Watson was reminded of a bright, cheeky, tow-headed lad, the chief of Holmes' Baker Street Irregulars. As gently as possible, though any touch drew forth an agonized scream, he reached for the identity disk hanging from the soldier's neck but stopped when he heard the failing voice cry out for Mrs. Hudson as others did for their mothers.
There was nothing Watson could do but sit beside Wiggins – this man whom both Watson and Holmes might consider a son – and weep when the time came to cover Tommy's face with the blanket.