A knock sounded through the flat.

"John." Sherlock called upstairs. "There's someone here."

John came down the stairs with heavy footfalls, pulling down his tan jumper.

"Sherlock, honestly. Can't you get up and do something yourself?"

"No."

"No, no. How silly of me. Of course not." John sighed, exasperated. His hand ran down his face. He took a deep breath then straightened his shoulders as he reached the door. He opened it.

"Yes?" John said as he looked up.

"Captain John Watson." A young man dressed in military uniform looked back at him.

"Williams? Fred Williams?" John was ecstatic to see the young man he had fixed up before he was discharged, he was just surprised to see the man who he thought would blame him for his disability that was caused by his negligence and carelessness.

"Sir." He saluted. "I'd just like to thank you for your sacrifice and your actions that saved my life on several occasions."

"I- You're welcome, but-." He saluted back.

"I swear to God, sir, if you so much as think something along the lines of "it was just my duty", I'll respectfully have to kick your arse." Williams smirked.

"Duly noted, Private." John mumbled, looking at his feet.

"If you wouldn't mind," John startled at Sherlock's voice at his ear, "Could you tell me exactly how he saved your life and got his wound - as I'm assuming that's what this is about.

John sent a pleading glance at Williams.

"Sorry, sir, but if your flatmate-"

"Husband."

"Huh?"

"John and I are married."

"I- oh! Congratulations, then. Anyway, what was I saying?"

""Sorry, sir, but if your flatmate"... Ring any bells in that cavern you call a head?"

"Sherlock…" John warned lowly as the soldier on his doorstep gaped at the detective.

"Right. I apologize."

"Er- right. Right. Well, I was saying that if your husband doesn't know about your bravery, then who will remind you?"

John groaned.

"Yes, well. You might as well come in. I am under the impression that this will take a while." Sherlock abruptly turned, crossed the room, and sat in his chair.

The private looked to John, hesitating seeing the resignation written plainly on his face. But John motioned him forward and towards the couch. As soon as Williams was through the door, John shut it behind him and turned to sit in his chair. Then remembered common courtesy and offered tea, which both men accepted.

When John next sat down, they were already discussing some of his achievements. Williams had apparently snapped out of his more official side and back into the informal, crazy guy that he was.

"... So there Cap was, going between saving lives and protecting everyone all while being shot at. You see, the Cap only needs one shot, cause he could hold his own against the snipers! Anyway, the Cap saved me for the first time that day." Here, he pulled his shirt up to show a graze on his side. "I would have bled out or been shot if he hadn't dragged me to cover and wrapped me up nice and good."

"While my exploits are all fun to hear about, I'm sure, why don't we have a cuppa now?" John interrupted.

"Splendid idea, John."

John handed a prepared cup of tea to Sherlock and asked for Williams' preference.

"Two sugars and a dash of milk."

"Here you are."

After a few moments of enjoying the hot beverage, Sherlock questioned him further. They talked back and forth for a few hours, John interjecting every now and then to restate that he wasn't doing anything special.

Sherlock was intrigued. How could so much of his lover's story go untold? Sure, he knew that his husband was brave, a crack shot, loyal to a fault, and overall one of the best people to have ever existed. But he didn't know that he risked his life so many times for the sake of his comrades, and sometimes people he didn't even know. It irked him that he would throw his precious life around so easily, without thought or concern for himself.

"Well, Cap. I want to thank you again for all you've done for me and others. Thank you. Most of your regiment, including me has been invited to come to the celebration after you receive your awards at Buckingham Palace from the Queen. I can't wait to see you there, Captain, sir." He saluted.

"Private." He saluted in return. "I'll look forward to it."

As Williams limped through the door and down the stairs, Sherlock watched John as he stood at the door. As a taxi sped away, he closed it softly.

"Why did you not tell me?" John looked up at the tone. Sherlock was hurt.

"I- I don't view it as something to be proud of, Sherlock." He sighed as he reached his chair. "I was a soldier. I killed people."

"But you were a doctor, too. You saved so many. Even when you shot a gun, you didn't do it out of spite, you did it to protect your comrades and serve your country. I can't fault you for that."

Sherlock moved to the couch as he talked. He gestured to John to sit with him, wrapping his arm around him when John complied.

"Thank you, love." He yawned.

"You are always welcome, John."

The matter was only revisited again that next Tuesday. John spoke quietly, but with conviction.

"I didn't tell you because I was scared you'd hate me or be afraid. I don't know why I thought anything like that, honestly. You keep toes in the fridge, for God's sake!" He chuckled then sighed, avoiding Sherlock's intent gaze. "I was a coward and I'm sorry. You have a right to know those things about me and decide for yourself if it was horrible or disgusting or-" John was cut off from his rambling by a hand on his mouth, and another on his chin forced him to look into his husband's eyes.

"John. I don't care what you did, do, or will do. I love you." He said it so simply like it was an indisputable fact of life. And perhaps, to Sherlock, it was.

"I love you too."

"Now. When is this ceremony taking place?"

John sighed. Of course he wouldn't let that go.

"Well…"

A/N - Well, I made a thing. I don't like it quite as much as the first one, but I suppose it'll have to do... Dftba! :)