A/Notes: Instead of editing two older stories of mine, this idea sprung out of nowhere and took all the little free time I had in the past few months. Then amongst other things, I couldn't decide on which way to go. I had everything except for the middle of the story. I decided to stop fretting and just set it free for your enjoyment. So, here it is, a little Johnlock AU for you. There'll be ten chapters in this one and, as usual, I'll post one a day.

And the disclaimer, not mine. Obviously. - Sigh -

Has not been betaed, nor Brit-picked. Only unabashedly feel good slightly lemony Johnlock.

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1. How do you do?

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'Afghanistan or Iraq?'

It took a few seconds for the blond young man to become aware of what the stranger sitting next to him at the bar had just said. He turned, but the man was facing forward, taking a sip of his drink, not looking in his direction. Was the question meant for him? The stranger was thin and tall, with black and curly hair that he wore longish. He was wearing an expensive looking suit with a white shirt opened at the neck, no tie.

With a wrinkled forehead and eyes flickering from side to side the blond man said, 'Excuse me?'

'Afghanistan or Iraq?' the stranger repeated, looking into his drink.

He remained with his mouth open, trying to process the odd question. Did he know this man?

The stranger sighed and finally turned to face him, gesturing with an open palm.

'Buzz cut, dog tags, clearly on leave, sitting on a pub, supposedly looking for recreation more than rest. Your typically British fair complexion and general healthy appearance suggests that you are not returning from anywhere dangerous or exotic, but heading out. Given the current political situation, most likely you are going to either Afghanistan or Iraq, and this will probably be your first tour of duty. So, which one is it, Afghanistan or Iraq?'

'Oh, em, yeah. I guess.' He cleared his throat, 'Afghanistan.'

'I see your mate found his recreation,' he tilted his head towards another fellow chatting up a brunette. 'But you don't seem to be trying. Recent break-up,' he gestured towards the bar counter.

'What?' The blond man lifted his arms and looked down at the beat up wood bar counter. Then he turned back, wide-eyed. 'How-?'

'Your watch. Expensive. Given your clothes on a night out, you are clearly not the kind of person that worries about brands or status. The brand and cost of the watch indicates a gift. Now the question is: from whom? Parent, wife or girlfriend? Not wife, as you're obviously single and haven't been married. Parent or relative would be plausible, but you are about to leave the country and you're not spending time with family. That strongly suggests that your family is not around, or at least, not close by. This particular model came out last year, so if it's from a relationship, it was a serious one, you had been together for a few years at least. Once again, you are not spending your time with a loved one, which also suggests she's not around anymore. Furthermore, your watch is scuffed, you wear it every day as a tool. The state of the watch indicates the state of your (now former) relationship. You only came here tonight because your mate over there asked you to be his "wingman". Instead of flirting you have been seating on that stool all gloomy and depressed, occasionally rubbing your fingers on the watch: recent break-up.

You kept the watch, so she broke up with you. Had it been the other way around, you wouldn't have kept it, let alone be rubbing it at every five minutes. A break-up right before you are to go to a war zone? It's highly likely (predictable, actually) that she suggested you two should marry once she learned you were going to be deployed; you did not say yes because you had doubts. Facing rejection, she broke up with you. You have no desire for a quick shag because you are still wondering whether or not you've made a mistake. The answer is no, she was not for you. If you truly loved her, there would be no doubts on your part. The relationship was doomed to begin with, you leaving only sped up its demise.'

The blond stared open mouthed. 'How-? You mean you could tell all that just by looking at my watch?'

'Your watch, your hands, your clothes, your demeanour. One only has to observe,' he shrugged and sipped his drink.

'That was- that's amazing!'

The stranger frowned and turned to stare at him. 'Amazing?'

'Yes, that was impressive. A bit rude actually but still, impressive.'

Frowning slightly, the stranger paused, then chuckled. Then, as if there had been no break he asked, 'So when do you leave?'

'In two days. My friend and I are to report to our base tomorrow afternoon and on Monday we fly directly to Camp Bastion in Afghanistan.'

'Strange.'

'What is?'

'You're about to go to a war zone and you don't seem concerned.'

'I guess there's no reason in worrying until there is reason to worry. I've got work to do, I'll concentrate on that first.'

'Interesting.'

'What is?'

The stranger paused but didn't answer. Instead, he proffered his hand, 'Scott.'

'John,' he shook the hand.

'So why did you enlist at this particular time?'

'Well-'

'Adventure, danger, all the romantic notions of best seller books and movies?'

'No, I-'

'You couldn't just sit still, you wanted to be part of the action.'

'Well, in-'

'Your life with the boring girlfriend was leading to marriage and you wanted out. A bit of an overly dramatic solution, don't you think?'

'She wasn't boring!'

'Then why are you here? And leaving?'

'Listen, I don't even know you, why are you telling me all this?'

'I'm just stating the obvious truth. Which is, there is no reason for you to mope for her. She was not worth it.'

'Amen to that, brother!' John's friend spoke, clasping a big hand on each of the men's shoulders.

'Shut up, Bill. Not you too!'

'She was just clingy and annoying, mate. I told you that a million times. I don't know why you had settled for her. Well, at least you got a nice watch out of it.'

John stared daggers at Bill. Scott smirked as he had all his observations confirmed. Not that it was needed.

'I'm Bill,' he offered his hand. 'Are you a friend of John's?'

'No, we're just talking. I'm Scott,' he shook his hand.

'Oh, right. Hey listen, John,' he lowered his voice. 'I'm about to get lucky with Britney there,' he thumbed towards his chest indicating the girl a few tables behind him, smiling at them. 'I'm sorry to ask you, but-'

'Christ Bill, not again!' He sighed and turned forward. 'How long?'

'Maybe an hour? And a half?'

'An-' John almost yelled, then whispered, 'An hour and a half?'

'Please mate? I'll trade as many shifts as you want once we get there. I promise.'

'It's almost chucking out time, what am I supposed to do for the next hour and a half?'

'Hey, why don't you try that redhead over there? She's been looking in this direction.'

'Bill, if she's looking in this direction, I guarantee you she's not looking at me. Go away already and text me once you're done, will you?'

'Thanks, mate. I owe you!'

'Oh yes, you do. And you will pay me back for this.'

'Cheers, boys!' he raised his glass and downed the rest of his pint. 'Gotta go,' he added slapping John's arm.

John pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

'He always does that to you, doesn't he? Does he actually pay his debts?'

John chuckled, 'Sometimes. Well, most of the times, to be fair.'

'Well John, if you need suggestions, I can give you a list of places that are open late. There aren't many, but I know of a few options, depending on what you're looking for. You don't seem to be a heavy drinker, but there are a few places to get a drink, as well as coffee, bagels or manicure. Not that you seem to be the type to get manicures.'

'I take you live in London?'

'No. Just here for business. I just happen to be an insomniac, so one does get to learn one's meagre options out of sheer necessity.'

'Well, I need a few suggestions, it seems. Hold on, let me take notes,' John pulled his phone from his back pocket and Scott gave him a small list of places that stayed open late.

'Thanks', John shook his phone before pocketing it back. 'This list will be very useful.'

Scott smiled and inhaled to speak. But someone tapped him on the shoulder and he turned away from John. The redhead that Bill was talking about was now sitting next to Scott, smiling.

'Hello there,' she flung her long hair over her shoulder, holding a glass with a reddish cocktail with a tiny yellow umbrella.

John looked at her and turned forward again, sipping his pint. I told Bill she wasn't looking at me. With someone like him sitting next to me, I'm invisible. Plus she's way out my league. He felt a bit self conscious; he was wearing only a plain t-shirt (granted, it did wonders showing his body), jeans and an old leather jacket that he had draped on the stool under him. He was no match for Scott's expensive suit.

Scott spoke to her in a low voice, so John shut it out. He just wasn't in the mood to listen to yet another man chatting up yet another woman and go home with her while he sat there alone, feeling sorry for himself. He regretted having agreed to come already, and even more so for sharing a hotel room with Bill. When will I ever learn?

They were right though. His relationship with Angela had been flagging for a while, the initial spark that had brought them together was gone. There was no sense-

'Why are you still dwelling on your doomed relationship?'

John jerked his head and frowned at Scott, who was still talking to him, no redhead to be found anywhere. He leaned back, looking for her beyond Scott.

'She's gone.'

'I thought- what happened? I was sure you would soon be going home with her too.'

'Nah. She's carrying a sexually transmitted disease and didn't even know it yet. I broke the news to her.'

John stared open mouthed. 'Sexu- what does she have? How could you tell?'

'She had skin lesions often seen in people with gonorrhoea of the throat. I asked her if she's been having a sore throat lately. Most people don't even know they are infected because not always there are noticeable symptoms - like pain during urination, for example. That's the problem with people who don't think unprotected oral sex is dangerous. I advised her to seek medical help.'

'Are you a doctor?'

'No.'

'How did you recognise the skin lesions?'

'Just common sense precaution,' Scott shrugged. 'One only has to be observant.'

'Phew! That was a narrow escape.'

'Hardly.'

John mulled it over for a few seconds, then let one hand fall on the counter. 'God, now I feel bad for her!'

'No need to. Antibiotics should take care of it.'

'You know Scott, there are definitely good reasons to have your skills. Applicable good reasons.'

Scott smirked. 'I know.'

'So, if you're not a doctor, what do you do? You said you're here for business.'

'I'm a sales rep for a pharmaceutical company.'

John smiled, 'That explains it.'

'My background is actually in Chemistry.'

'Ah, that makes sense. I'm curious though.'

'About what?'

'Why aren't you looking for recreation on a Saturday night?'

'Look around John. Do you see anyone suitable?'

He looked up at the mirror behind the bar and swept the pub. There were several women that, had he been in the mood for it, he would've tried to talk to. But for someone like Scott, none were in his league. Except for the redhead and she was gone now.

'I see what you mean.'

'Exactly. Not really the right time to start over again at a different pub now. Chatting up someone takes time.'

'I guess you're right. Bill talked to that girl for more than an hour. An hour plus that I spent sitting here alone, not even a game to watch on the telly. So much for a "wingman".'

'I think you should reconsider that role in the future. Especially with him.'

'Yeah, I guess you're right. But don't get me wrong, deep down Bill is a good bloke.'

'Perhaps. But being a "good bloke" does not entitle him to leave you homeless for the evening.'

'Well, at least it won't be the whole evening.'

Scott doubted that, but if John wanted to believe it, that was not his problem.

The bartender called for last rounds, they had fifteen minutes.

'Ach,' John shook his head.

'So John, what is your rank?'

He noticed how John straightened himself up unconsciously, as if standing to attention. Scott was reminded of a bird puffing up his chest and smirked.

'Second Lieutenant,' he smiled.

Scot paused for a second, his eyes staring into space, then he blurted, 'Sandhurst.'

John blinked, 'How did you know that?'

'You are about to go on your first tour. Had you been a mere recruit it would have taken time and most likely several tours to get to that rank. No, you went straight to the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst because you are interested in a military career. Graduates that survive the arduous course leave with a Second Lieutenant's rank.'

'How did you know? I mean, not many civilians know about Sandhurst.'

'I have an amazing amount of information stored in my brain, John,' he waved his hand and shrugged. 'I suspect you graduated with honours, judging by your preening.'

'I wasn't preening!' John protested.

Scott smirked, 'Yes you were.'

'No I wasn't!' John looked straight ahead, making a face. After a brief pause he chuckled, 'Actually, not to sound immodest, I did receive the Sword of Honour at the Sovereign's Parade. It's basically a "best in class" type of award.'

'Is it a figurative sword or a real one?'

'A real one! Beautifully made,' he smiled, eyes looking up as he envisioned it. Then his face changed and he looked down at the bar counter, lifting his pint. 'Now in storage at Bill's parents.'

'I've read that the training is very gruelling.'

'It was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life! There were days I didn't think I had it in me to finish it. I just gritted my teeth and tried to do my best at each challenge, each day, day after day. You are often cold, sleep deprived, hungry, wet, tired, miserable, a bit depressed even, and yet, you're asked to perform tasks that require mental acuity, decision making, knowing that the men are under your responsibility. That's how they identify those who can lead. Failure meant that they all could have died under your watch. It's hard to explain, but this is what motivates us to excel in leadership. That's why it means so much to me, that I got the award at the end.'

'How did your mate do?'

'Don't be fooled by his behaviour tonight. Bill is highly accomplished and I would trust him with my life. I'm sure he'll go very far.'

'I have a feeling you will do very well yourself, John.'

'God I hope so. I've always wanted this.'

Scott smiled, John had blushed slightly.

John paused, then turned his head towards his companion.

'You said you're an insomniac. Have you had that checked?'

'Nope. I actually don't need much sleep, so I prefer it that way.'

'Christ, how can you function?'

'Sleep is overrated.'

'Hey listen, Scott. I'm enjoying talking to you.'

'Same here,' Scott raised his glass.

'This is better than being all by myself staring at the walls. If you don't need much sleep, would you like to come along to my next stop?'

Scott paused and tilted his head. 'Actually, I am experiencing one of those nights where I don't feel sleepy.'

John smiled. 'So what will it be? Drink, coffee or bagel?'

'I'm usually not hungry. Coffee?'

'Sounds good, mate. Shall we go?' He stood up and pulled his wallet, leaving a few notes on the bar.

Scott paused and mulled over the word "mate" to himself. He liked the sound of that. When John turned back to him, Scott was smiling to himself as he too paid for his drink.

'After you, John.' He spread his arm.

A/Note: Please let me know what you think? If you think Sherlock is out of character, have some faith in the sociopath in him... ;)