A/N: I was re-reading my other story (Afghanistan Comes Home) and this idea hit me. Pretty much wrote itself in one sitting.

This is all pre-Sherlock. Gives a bit of background to the man John Watson is. Maybe, eventually he will tell Sherlock more bits and pieces about his past! :)

The first part is placed at the tail end of John's time in med school. The second part takes place when he was stationed with the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers in Afghanistan. If you have read the other story, this is once he was placed with the special ops unit, and you will recognize a few names of his mates there.

John Watson, the Doctor

Of course.

Why would he expect anything different? It was the same thing, all over again.

In the few minutes he had before his next class, he called Harry.

Immediately, he could tell she'd been drinking… again.

The conversation deteriorated rapidly. She yelled at him, blamed him for her problems and begged him to come get her.

When he tried to explain that he couldn't, she cried, "You don't care about me. You never did."

Knowing it was the alcohol talking, he tried to reason with her.

"Harry, please. You know I love you…"

"No you don't. You never did. All I want is my little brother to be here. I… I need you. Please come home," she sobbed into the phone.

He felt his frustration growing. He couldn't get through to her, not while she was drunk. He needed to try, though.

"Harry, you know I can't. I'm in the middle of my semester, I have all my mid-terms. There's no way I can get away right now."

"You LIAR!" she screamed.

John jumped at the increase in volume. At the same time, his stomach twisted. Ah yes, here we go. I had so hoped that we could avoid this, this time.

"Harry… Harry! Stop. If I could get away, I would. I only have a couple more minutes. Please, I just wanted to talk to you," John pleaded with her.

Nothing could stop her tirade now. The alcohol lent fuel to her anger, and it all poured out through the phone.

"You left me, you bastard," she yelled.

Then her voice lowered and grew more intense, even as her words slurred from the alcohol. "You ran away from me by going to med school. Now you're going to be running away by joining the army. You don't care. You said we would always be together. But you're leaving me behind."

John didn't need to listen to the rest. He knew everything that she'd say. She'd said it so many times, he knew it by heart.

He tried one more time. "Harry, you knew when I got in to Welbeck College that I was headed this way. The scholarship to med school was the next step. Once I graduate here, I'll be off to Sandhurst to finish training. It's the career I've chosen. One I've always wanted."

Harry yelled more slurred invectives at him. She was completely closed to him now.

Brokenly, he whispered into the phone, "I'm sorry, Harry. I really am." With tears burning his eyes, he quietly hit end on his mobile. He held it in his lap quietly.

Looking around, he made sure there was no one in the vicinity of the bench he'd picked for its seclusion. He leaned his head against the wall behind him, shutting his eyes briefly. All he wanted was to talk to someone who knew him, family. Since the previous fall, Harry was the only one left.

He didn't have anyone else to call.

He'd hoped that maybe this time, he could have caught her before… but that's too much to hope for, isn't it?

For the longest time, the only thing he'd been able to count on had been his sister. They'd always stuck together. Now he was losing her too, as she headed down the same path their father had.

By the time he gathered up his bag and headed to his class, John's emotions were closed behind the walls he had learned to build so easily.

When people looked at John Watson, they saw an easy going, mild mannered young man. A strong member of the football team, his engaging manner only served to increase his popularity.

Throughout med school and his additional medical training with the army, John became known for his empathy.

Patients quickly learned that he was willing to listen.

Nurses observed him treating not only physical ailments, but also addressing, the many times unspoken, emotional needs as he worked.

Other doctors saw his intelligence and intuition in action, as he diagnosed and treated patients.

They all learned that behind that gentleness there was a hunger for knowledge, and steely determination to do the right thing, and do it well.

The smile and gentle warmth of his eyes served to hide the deep scars of his past. No one would have ever been able to guess the things he had endured from a far too young age.

All everyone saw was the aspiring young doctor, filled with compassion and determination.

Compassion for any and all those who suffered.

Determination to take their suffering away, as much as humanly possible.

John Watson, the Soldier

Whispering over his shoulder, in Dari, "It's OK, just stay behind me. I'll protect you," John faced the man in front of him.

"Back down, soldier." John spoke quietly, commandingly.

The man in front of him swaggered with bravado, puffed up with a sense of power and authority.

"What you gonna do about it, medic?" he mocked, to the amusement of his friends.

"Stop you," came the simple answer.

John had been participating in the sweep of the small desert village. A house to house search was underway, looking for any insurgents and weapons. They were to expose any insurgents or arms they found. At the same time, they were to secure any villagers, to insure they were not in danger.

Patrolling a street, a woman's cry floated on the dry night air. He traced the sounds of raised male voices and a woman's pleading to a nearby house. Peering through the window, he saw four soldiers looming over a woman. She was trying to shield and protect her two daughters and a younger son from their sight.

John scanned the home, seeing it was a one room dwelling. One wall of the house had the only door and a window, guarded by a soldier who was scanning the street outside. There was nowhere for the woman or her children to go, with the other three men threatening them.

Stepping away from the house momentarily, he scanned the dim streets. Seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, he turned and saw a familiar figure. He raised his hand, signaling, hoping that would be enough.

Ducking, so he wouldn't be seen from the house, he slid back around the corner, crouching under the open window. He could hear the other men laughing as the leader moved closer to the mother.

"Come on," he sneered, "all we want is a little hospitality. That's not too much to ask, is it?"

John could hear the man's breath quicken in anticipation. He peered over the window ledge and saw the leader raking his gaze over the girls hiding behind their mother's robes, his eyes dark with lust.

Knowing he couldn't delay any longer, he took a deep breath, and with a quick prayer, he dove through the window, landing between the mother and the other soldiers, quickly rolling to his feet.

The leader laughed in John's face. John's normally comforting blue eyes burned.

"I will not say it again. Back down, soldier. That is not a request, it's a command." John stood his ground.

The man's friends behind him grew quiet, realizing they were facing an officer, a Captain, not just a soldier. Their leader, however, just saw a single medic who happened to be in his way. By himself, he was nothing.

He moved a step closer to John, intending to loom over him, to intimidate him by his overwhelming size.

That was his mistake.

Before anyone could react, the man was on the floor, unarmed, with John's boot firmly placed on his neck, pressing just hard enough to make black spots dance in his field of vision.

"Get out," John quietly commanded to the other men, his gun leveled at them.

Hurriedly, they obeyed, backing out of the house one by one. There was some scuffling in the street, then it was quiet.

John slowly brought the gun down to focus on the man at his feet.

"I am going to remove my foot now. You are going to slowly get up, and walk out of this house. If you're smart, you won't try anything."

Slowly, John eased his foot off the man's throat, taking several steps back, keeping his gun trained on him.

With lightning speed, the man was on his feet, kicking the gun out of John's hands. It skittered away to land against the wall somewhere behind them. In the fight that followed, John continually kept himself positioned between the man and the woman and her children.

They traded blows, silently and furiously. A deep anger burned inside him, honed by experience and his training. John attempted to lock the man into a sleeper hold. The larger man managed to flip him off, but John rolled, pulling him down as well. They grappled for a moment and then pushed apart, circling each other.

Seeing an opening, John used his smaller size to his advantage. Moving quickly, he ducked a punch, only to have the man's fist hit his cheek, his signet ring cutting John's cheekbone. Dodging a kick, he landed a punishing hit of his own into the man's midsection. While he gasped for breath, John kicked out his own leg, sweeping the man off his feet. He hit the ground hard, and John followed up his advantage by landing his knee into the man's back, twisting his arms up behind him, effectively immobilizing him.

John looked up, hearing more noise outside the door. This time it was his friends Murray, Roberts and Thomas.

Giving Roberts and Thomas a meaningful look, John ignored the man's cursing and threats. "Get this bloke out of here, and make sure he's… sent on his way."

As soon as the man was out of the house, John signaled to Murray, and they turned their attention to the woman and her children.

Stepping closer, ahead of Murray, John held his arms out from his side, his hands spread wide and open.

"Please, let me help you. I'm a doctor. I mean you no harm," he said in Dari, ignoring his throbbing face.

The woman regarded him, still trying to hide her daughters, fear in her eyes.

Off to her side, there was a flurry of movement. She uttered a low cry, reaching out and missing as her son darted forward.

Carefully, he stretched out his hands to John, offering his gun back to him, butt first. As John gently took it from his hands and holstered it, the boy flashed him a brilliant smile.

"Thank you for helping us," the boy said in fluent English.

John exchanged a grin with Murray and knelt down in front of the boy.

"You're welcome. I saw you holding my gun to protect your mother and sisters. You are very brave."

The young boy swelled with pride as John spoke in Dari, so his mother and sisters would understand.

Later that night, after giving report and returning to his tent, John stretched out on his bed, exhausted from the night's events. Hands folded behind his head on his pillow, he drifted off to sleep.

In his dreams, a young boy stood in front of his mother and sister, trying to protect them. His blonde hair glinted in the dim light, and his blue eyes were wide with fear.

There was no soldier between him and the figure menacing him and his family. There was no gun in his hands to lend force to the words that fell from his trembling lips.

"Y – you leave them a- alone."

"You gonna make me, Johnny-boy?"

The figure raised his massive hand, a heavy ring on his finger shining in the light before he brought it down with a crack against his cheekbone. The pain exploded….

With a start, John woke, the dream shredding around him. The room was dimly lit, just enough for him to see a figure kneeling next to his bunk. He froze, trying to breathe silently, his hands clenched in his blanket, struggling for control, trying not to give anything away.

"Easy mate, it's just me," whispered Murray, pretending not to notice the tremors running through his friend.

John pinched the bridge of his nose, thankful for the dim light to hide the tears he knew were in his eyes. His cheekbone throbbed in time to his pounding heart. He heard a crackling by his side, then felt something cold pressed into his hand.

"Icepack. For your face. He clocked you pretty good when you were fighting." Murray sat on the floor, his back against John's bunk.

John sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bunk next to Murray. He gently held the icepack under his eye. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, until John's heart calmed back down and his mind was able to sort out dream from reality again.

He bumped his leg against Murray's arm. "Thanks Bill… for the icepack." Thanks for being here, helping me earlier, waking me up.

"No problem, John. That's what I'm here for," he smiled in the dark. You're welcome, I've got your back, it's what friends do.

Murray moved back to his bunk as John lay back down. Slowly John drifted back off again, relaxing with the knowledge that he wasn't powerless or friendless any more.

a/n: Hope you enjoyed! Read and review! :)

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