Child's Play
Set during The Great Game, where the child's life is on the line and he's counting down. John's face went pale and he started pacing. And then my little brain started to turn…
John's part was written in 20 minutes before class last night and edited at approximately 5:30 in the morning when I realized sleep was useless. Quick beta job by yours truly, but accuracy is probably nil. Not entirely sure if I got Sherlock in character, but fairly confident on my John. Everything is totally made up, because I can.
Disclaimed! I own nothing but my unhealthy obsession, especially with Army!John and hurt/comfort Johnlock.
Hot. Dusty. Dry.
Captain Watson led his men towards the nearest shelter. Only an idiot would be leading his men around in the noonday sun of Afghanistan.
The first few men stumbled into the shack and were immediately sick. It wasn't the flies buzzing around the bodies. It wasn't the stench. It was the bodies. They were stacked everywhere. The children huddled in the corners. The mothers trying to shield their babies. The fathers trying to protect their families. Even as Captain Watson is yelling for his men to get back, get out now, that's an order soldier!, he hears the whimper. A little girl, no older than 6 is strapped to a bomb. Her handler sits nearby with an evil grin.
It's luck that makes the timer on the bomb slow. It's luck that gets his men far enough from the shack. It's luck that keeps him safe, the last one out. Captain Watson just needs to worry about casualties from another battle, another day.
And now there's another madman strapping bombs to innocent children. This one sounds young too, no older than 7 or 8 judging by his voice. John feels the blood drain from his face and knows how pale he must be. He sees Lestrade's look of sympathy. The former medic's tender heart is well known. He commiserates with Lestrade's horror and nearly hates Sherlock for his cool demeanor. He paces, knowing that Sherlock is just as worried as he is. Praying that Sherlock will find a way to prove the painting is a fake. Praying that it won't be a repeat of that horrible day in Afghanistan. He knows the dreams will be back for many nights. Weeks, if this child dies as well.
Sherlock shouts his conclusion at the phone and John stops pacing. The child's voice stops counting and starts crying, but he's alive. That's all that matters. He hears Sherlock bark orders at Lestrade and sees him beckon for John to follow. He doesn't say anything, or even squeeze John's shoulder, but John can see the relief echoed in his eyes. Knowing Sherlock as he does, that's a testament to how much this case had affected him. He smiles and follows Sherlock, waiting for the last pip.
Augh. Yes, I know it's ridiculously short, but writing from Sherlock's POV was completely unhappy making. I just can't get a handle on that man!
R&R please?