Betrayal

by Glory1863

Captain John Watson had known Colonel Sebastian Moran back in Afghanistan, or at least he thought he had. By the time he'd figured out his error, it was much too late. A 221b ficlet inspired by "An Old Friend and a New Nightmare", chapter 2 of "A Collection of In Between Scenes" by LadyRainbow.

The military identity disk in the plastic evidence bag in Inspector Lestrade's hand shown dully under the office lighting.

"You know him, John?"

A pause, a bit too long. "Yeah, Afghanistan."

Colonel Sebastian Moran, a commando leader whose unit would storm Hell on his command, was the man Dr. John Watson thought he knew, but according to Mycroft Holmes, Moran had already been playing both sides of the street even then.

Watson knew the Holmes brothers thought him to be thick as a brick, but from hints Mycroft had dropped he'd been able to piece together that the Taliban attack on the aid convoy had been engineered by Moran. His own medical knowledge told him the wound to his shoulder hadn't come from a Taliban Kalashnikov but from a Black Talon, Moran's ammunition of choice.

Mycroft had known, could have prevented the death of young Dr. Paulsen, but had chosen to protect his agent instead, had used his power to cover things up, but with Sherlock now in danger, things were different.

Sherlock, who'd walked out of Watson's life by walking off a building, then walked back in 3 years later as if the nightmares and flashbacks his "death" had caused Watson were nothing.

Sebastian. Mycroft. Sherlock. Watson was bloody sick and tired of being trapped in their web of betrayal.