It all seemed to start at the apex of the Afghan war, amid the nightly raids and under the relentless heat of the desert sun. There were whispers; muted rumours spoken softly and with many a furrowed brow. As John sat before his squad's camp fire, he couldn't help but notice the uneasy aura which hung heavily in the air. Something was changing they said. Word from home said that world leaders were suddenly resigning, and there was talk of uniting the world under a single leading body. Information was scarce and incomplete, and the men often found themselves caught up in discussions debating the validity of such rumours. Each new piece of information was spoken about with smiles and heavy sarcasm, each thinking the wild talk to be nothing more than the fabricated mutterings of broken men. The fire crackled loudly in front of him, illuminating the faces of each soldier sat around it. John shook his head and returned to writing his daily report, his once light field journal now a cluttered, cramped collection of the wounds and other afflictions he had treated throughout his service. Occasionally he paused to listen in on the conversations, for he was just as curious as the next man.
''Yeah right, there's no way the bastards in charge of everything would just stand back and follow some other, bigger bastard. Some thing's going on behind our backs, I can smell it.''
One of the younger men sniggered and took a deep swig of his flask. ''All you can smell is your own sweat. It's just what we need out here, init? More fucking conspiracies and not enough deodorant.''
John sighed and returned to his journal. The broken arm he had put into a sling earlier on wouldn't document itself, no matter how worn out he felt.
Two days later, John Watson was shot during an attempt to push the British line forwards, and was pulled from the front line. Three days after, the Afghan war was drawn to a sudden, unexpected close with little to go by in regards to why. A day after that, it was announced that a man named Mycroft Holmes would be uniting the world, putting an end to poverty, oppression and war. A month later, people who started to show doubts began to disappear, and people started questioning why. Fear spread fast and far; those who did show signs of rebelling against Holmes' perfect world simply vanished, their very existence only proved once their loved ones spoke out. It never took long for them to vanish either, nor did it take long for people to stop asking. Resistance groups rapidly sprung up and were shot down with equal haste, for none were organised enough to stand a chance, and only those effected by the sudden, unexplained disappearances of their family members were interested in backing up 'the cause'. Despite the terror, despite humanity completely loosing it's freedom of speech, Mycroft kept to his word and soon the amount of people supporting him dwarfed the members of the population who cried out for justice. Of course, John Watson knew none of this, for during the time of Mycroft Holmes' uprising, he was still abroad in Peshawar battling enteric fever and could not return home in such an unstable state. His sister, Harriet, was one of the first people to vanish, yet he was never told. Two months later, John Watson returned home to England to find himself a stranger in his own country, not being able to understand how or why his only family had disappeared without a trace. Naturally, he began to ask questions...