Just a quick one in honor of the men and women that serve this country through military service. Happy Veteran's Day and thank you for your service. Also I own nothing.
John idly stared out the window of 221b. Several years ago when he moved in with Sherlock Holmes he had been told by the man's older brother that John missed the war rather than was haunted by it. He was right and he was wrong John thought now in the quiet of the flat. The war had indeed haunted him and still did any sane man would be haunted by the violence of war. John though did miss the war when he returned like a fish did the sea as it is pulled out by the fisherman's hook. John Watson missed the war because that was where he belonged. He was nothing if not a soldier and the peaceful, uneventful life that had been offered to him when he left the service suffocated him.
John longed to be a soldier again because he would never be anything different and when he was offered a chance into a different kind of war in London he jumped at it. John Watson was never one to stay at home safe and ignorant when there was something to be done about the threat. His very DNA screamed at him to take up the fight again and if Sherlock hadn't been there he might have been suffocated by the city that brought him home.
John had seen many battlefields. He had seen the war torn landscape of Afghanistan and the bloody operating rooms of various hospitals. He had seen the nasty underbelly of London with Sherlock and the war that played out in an aristocratic banquet. As he stood in the window he smiled at the mission of parenthood he would soon embark on and how Mary had become his partner.
Those he had served with held a special place in his heart. He had seen many of them perish and many ruined by the city that had once threatened to take him. He had patched up boys barely old enough to leave home and attended more funerals than he cared to think about. He kept their memories alive every day and owed his life to many of them. He couldn't help but think of how similar they were to the officers he worked with everyday who also put their lives on the line for their city.
Yes, John thought, he was and would always be a soldier. He would always stand when he thought someone needed to. He would always be a part of the fight. He had seen too many die, too many injured, too many scarred by the cruel face of war to ever miss it but it would always be a part of him. So with a sigh and one last look out the window he turned back to his friend who stood waiting for him for once.
"Yes, I am ready. Let's go."
And with that John Watson strolled back onto the battlefield.