I own nothing. And while I am a huge history buff my military knowledge is questionable. I have researched things as much as I can but if there are any discrepancies in my knowledge let me know it would be much appreciated.

11.15a.m. September 3rd, 1939

"This morning the British Ambassador in Berlin handed the German Government a final note stating that, unless we heard from them by 11 o'clock that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us. I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received, and that consequently this country is at war with Germany.

The Government have made plans under which it will be possible to carry on the work of the nation…You may be taking your part in the fighting services or as a volunteer in one of the branches of Civil Defence.

Now may God bless you all. May He defend the right. It is the evil things that we shall be fighting against - brute force, bad faith, injustice, oppression and persecution - and against them I am certain that the right will prevail."

Neville Chamberlain, Prime Minister of Great Britain on BBC Radio

John had sat and replayed that speech in his head countless times since he had first heard it 3 weeks ago. He didn't really know how to react when he heard that Britain was at war with Germany. An event, according to Mycroft was inevitable considering how much leeway the government had given that German Hitler but still it bothered him deeply.

War. One word that could kill any mood in any room and bring even the most unflinching man to a still, well perhaps maybe not Sherlock but John wasn't entirely sure just what Sherlock was and whether he was actually human. This little thought made him smile. Just what was Sherlock? But this thought brought him to another, of the conversation they were bound to have soon. But he put the idea from his mind.

To distract himself he took the newspaper he had picked up on his way to read and was again brought back to reality with the front page headline. DEATH TOTAL EXCEEDS 500 – CONFIRMED. Of course, the war again. One of his majesty's ships HMS Courageous had been torpedoed off the coast of Ireland a week earlier with almost all of the crew being killed. They hadn't caught the submarine who did it either.

Putting his newspaper down, he sighed resting his head in his hands. He closed his eyes and tried to think of anything other than the decision he was about to make. He knew he was doing the right thing but that didn't mean everyone would understand. His family had been scared by the last Great War and some wounds don't heal. His father had been in the Great War along with his brother Hamish. Only one had returned and the other may as well have died with him. He never knew his uncle, his namesake, but according to Harriet, his sister, he was a good man. She had been 6 when the war started in 1914. Though her memory wasn't perfect she did have small treasured memories from before the war, of the two men in her life that she loved and her mother actually smiling.

During the many long days as a child John would ask her about them. About the man who now sat sadly and empty at the dinner table and the uncle he never knew.

"Father was very handsome and so was Uncle Hamish. Mother told me that after she and father had started courting, all of the woman in the town were very upset and they all tried to get Uncle Hamish's attention but he didn't want a wife. Mother said he enjoyed his freedom too much and that father was always looking out for him. Mother said I was the only girl he really loved. He was absolutely mad about me" Harriet said with a smile, telling John as he listened intently picturing the man in his mind, the man he had only seen in pictures.

"What was father like?" 10 year old John questioned. Harriet's smile slipped ever so slightly.

"Father was…different back then. He smiled a lot more and would always tuck me into bed and tell me how much he loved me. I do remember one night before the war him asking me would I like a sibling-I said no, of course" she tickled him before carrying on. "But he promised me it would be brilliant, that having a sibling was the best thing so I agreed but I only wanted a sister I told him. I knew how much he wanted a boy though, a son to be the next great Watson man" Harriet always got that sad look in her eyes when she remembered the man who was once the truest love of her life, of any girls life, their father. That was not the man who sat at the table silent and lost in his mind and memories.

These stories he knew his whole life but John could never get Harriet to open up about their father and the war itself. That wasn't until 3 years ago when he was 17 and Harriet had had another blazing one sided row with their father over the lack of enthusiasm for John's excellent school results. He watched her beg him for some sort of response, anything to show how he felt but nothing. John had followed her out of the house to their garden den that they had made together not long after they moved there. He still doesn't know why he asked or why she answered this time but she did.

"I remember the night he told mother he was going to join the troops, as a medical officer. She was crying so desperately and father was begging her to understand. Hamish was already gone and granddad said that that never sat right with father. His younger brother was off fighting Germans and he was here at home fighting the common cold as he put it. I think mother knew though that he wanted to go as soon as Hamish did but she hoped that she and I were enough to make him stay but he left anyway and Mother and I went to stay with Granddad at his home in case there was news. Every time there was an unexpected knock on the door mother would start shaking, thinking it was going to be some man in uniform telling her that father was dead, like they did when Hamish died" She allowed the sentence to hang for a moment, remembering John presumed the young man in uniform informing their grandfather that his youngest son would not be coming home.

"Father didn't know until he came home about Hamish…I remember him being very still, not moving at all for what seemed like hours. It was the first thing he asked after giving us all a hug when he got home. He looked at Granddad and just asked him "Hamish?" and when granddad shook his head all of the light went out of fathers eyes" Harriet was crying now, silently though John wasn't paying much attention to her face as much as her words. He kept his eyes fixed on the house over her left shoulder where the man in question sat, probably alone in his office, probably thinking about his lost brother. John didn't know how to talk to him, how to make him actually look at him but then what would he say? That he was sorry? It didn't seem enough.

"John Watson?" a young looking man, probably in his mid-30 was stood in front of him, neat and tidy uniform with a clipboard in hand. John shook his memories from his mind to focus on the job in hand. Standing up he nodded, hand outstretched.

"Yes, yes that's me"

"Corporal Simmons" The man briefly grasped his hand before letting go and walking in the direction of one of the many tables "Sorry about the wait usually we get through the applications easily enough but considering you have medical training it seemed a little redundant to make you sit through the manual explanation" John nodded taking a seat in front of the Corporal, deciding to hold his hands together to stop himself fidgeting with them. "How long have you been training in St. Bartholomew's?"

"This would have been my 4th year, Sir…I've completed three" John clarified.

"So I think we can safely say you can handle a few war wounds then" the man said with a smirk, a genuine one which surprised John.

"Yes Sir"

"Excellent. Have you any training in surgery or has your learning been mainly theory and bedside manner?" Corporal Simmons questioned looking over the information one of the young ladies from the first desk had taken.

"No...I mean yes but I…" John didn't know why he was nervous. Maybe it was the tiny Sherlock in his head telling him how many ways this was an awful idea. He took a breath and steadied himself. "I have both I mean. I've finished the majority of my theory and have begun assisting in surgery"

The Corporal nodded again looking up from the papers "You're how old?"

"20"

"Quite young for someone your age to be assisting in an operating theatre are you not?" John simply shook his head.

"My father's a doctor and I was able to finish my school studies early so I've been at St. Barts since I was 17" Sherlock would be proud, he though. He hated when John undermined his own achievements.

"Impressive. So John, why have you decided to join His majesties Army? It's not going to easy you know? Especially in the RAMC…You see some pretty horrific things son"

John nodded "I know but I can't sick around here and listen to all this going on when I can being doing something to help" he paused for a moment before continuing "My father was in the RAMC during the Great War and I want to be able to serve my country the same as he did" He tried not to picture himself like his father in 20 years, alone and broken by one decision to leave England.

"That's very noble of John" The Corporal seemed to soften some at John's words before collecting himself. "Well unlike a number of the men who have requested to join the RAMC, you will not need to go to the required medical training but you will need to present yourself here and ready to serve in 14 days from now. You will be stationed in France. There is a team of people already on the ground attempting to set up what will become a treatment facility. Your posting will be with the 5th Northumberland Fusiliers and you will be part of the field ambulances" John nodded taking in all the information as much as he could. The man in front of him rose and John did the same extending his hand again to meet the other mans.

"So you may collect your uniform from the woman at the back, just give her these papers" handing John the small official piece of paper. "And welcome to the RAMC Officer Watson"

John did as told and went to the woman at the far end of the hall and gave her the papers. She nodded and asked him his usual size before giving him a set of dress uniform for 'appropriate' times when one would be required and then a set of more familiar everyday uniform as well as coat and a rucksack to carry them all in. "You'll be given your medical supplies just before you leave"

John had also been given a large rucksack to carry all these things in and made the short walk through London to Baker's Street. He had lived here for almost 3 years now along with Sherlock Holmes. They had been friends since childhood after John's family moved out their Grandfathers home after his death and into a house not far from Sherlocks'. To this day John isn't quite sure why he and Sherlock became friends as Sherlock is almost 2 younger than John but something between them clicked and John became Sherlock's best and frankly only friend. Despite only being 18, Sherlock was brilliant for his age which was why he had been accepted to St. Bart's the same year as John though not to study medicine but rather science of some description that John had no understanding of but Sherlock seemed to know what he is doing.

221B Baker's Street had been given to Mycroft, Sherlock's older brother, first when he had left for university and when John and Sherlock had both decided to go to St. Bartholomew's to study Mycroft had simply offered them the apartment, seeing as with his new job in the government somewhere he could afford his own accommodation and in his words "No longer need to allow my mother her own key as she won't own the building". John didn't know how but the Holmes were a very affluent family. His mother stating that their ancestors had been around for generations, in other words, family money and had a lot of ties with 'people in high places' or the government without the dramatics. Its why Mycroft at the tender age of 29 was currently able to afford one of the larger apartments in London despite working only a year before giving the apartment to the pair, having travelled abroad after university.

As John opened the door to the building he listened out for Sherlock. Obviously he would need to tell Sherlock, and his family for that matter, about his signing up but he didn't want to do it straight away, well not Sherlock anyway. He'd actually only made up his mind the night before as to whether he would do it or not but he couldn't shake the feeling that he had to do this! He had a bigger part to play in this world than just being plain old John Watson the doctor.

He had barely time to put his new belongings into his room when he heard the main door below open. Quickly straightening himself he made his way down from the his 3rd floor bedroom to the main living area on the 2nd floor to find Sherlock sitting in one of the two armchairs placed in front of the fire. His eyes were closed and his fingers were steepled beneath his chin, almost like he was asleep.

John took these moments to really look at Sherlock, to take in all those unusual features, high cheekbones and raven hair that completely drained his skin of any colour making him almost ghostly compared to John slightly more pink complexion as some might say. John had long gotten past his mantra on telling himself he wasn't a homosexual. Not that he was or anything but even he couldn't deny there was something indescribably beautiful about Sherlock. And his intelligence, while the main reason for Sherlock's limited friends list, had never been an issue for John. He had believe maybe because they had been friends for as long as they had that he had grown used to Sherlock's seemingly unlimited knowledge but then he would do something else or prove some other science related theory at the university and he was reminded all over again at just how amazed he was with him.

And in Sherlock's words John wasn't as dull as the other people he met which was why he didn't mind having him around. And while yes it was slightly patronising for someone 2 years his junior to think, and say this aloud, John couldn't help but think that being Sherlock's friend was the best thing that could have happened to him.

"I can feel you staring at me" John had been caught in this situation plenty of times before so he didn't stop and honestly he didn't think Sherlock minded all that much. He didn't move, his posture and focus as still as ever. When they were teenagers they had been inseparable but John had put it down to Sherlock tutoring him, allowing him to finish school early and get into the medical course he had always wanted. But since they had moved into Baker Street he couldn't deny there had been an intangible shift in their friendship. He can't quite put his foot on what it is but there was definitely something different. It was an ease and a comfort between them.

Some of the lads at the university called them the old married couple. At first John laughed it off, jokingly stating that if that was the case then he was the husband but as the years wore on the more that analogy seemed to fit. They were exactly like a married couple except in a way John's first prediction had been turned on its head. Despite his long days and mountains of work he still found time to make sure there was food made for Sherlock and that he had clean clothes and he visited his parents on occasion while Sherlock work at the university and paid for the apartment, or at least his parents did.

"Have I something on my face or are you just looking at me for no reason?" This time John smirked and removed his gaze from Sherlock.

"No just trying to figure out whether or not tonight's a good night to suggest you go and visit your parents" By now John had moved into the kitchen and started making some tea.

"No I am far too busy" Sherlock simply stated without opening his eyes.

"Well I'm going home this evening and I had thought that you might like to see your parents…3 months now?" Now john looked back into their living room. The flat in itself wasn't overly spacious with Sherlock's room off from the kitchen and the bathroom beside. John's bedroom was up on the next floor. The living room itself was simple but cluttered. Their two armchairs – Sherlock's slightly newer one and John's old armchair from his Grandfathers house-sat in front of the now cold fireplace around which were two large bookcases filled mainly with Sherlock's things but a few of John's books he had managed to get in. The window behind Sherlock's chair was bare the music stand being the only signal of Sherlock's well hidden talent for the violin, itself hidden behind the curtain in its case.

2 writing desks sat against the middle window, one each, for study though one usually remained covered in books and papers on Sherlock's side. At the far end of the room was the flats newest addition. A large 2 seater couch that Mrs. Holmes had bought after one too many times having to sit on one of the dining chairs when Sherlock refused to give up his chair for her upon her unexpected arrivals.

From his armchair Sherlock finally opened his eyes and let out a sigh as if being related to his parents could possibly be the worst thing that could have happened to him. "Oh yes…your birthday if I recall" John offered him a cup of tea which he accepted. Despite his only being 18, Sherlock rarely acted like it. In fact a lot of people thought Sherlock was older than John. "Remind me again why I had to go?"

"Because I asked and you said yes" John smiled settling into his own seat across from Sherlock. "And I wanted my best friend there"

"And remind me again why you are my best friend?" Despite keeping a straight face, Sherlock's eyes betrayed him with a smile.

"Because no one else would have you…or me for that matter" John hid his smile in his mug. He waited for Sherlock to look at him again "I guess we're stuck with each other then"

"I wouldn't mind that" Sherlock had intended to say this to himself but John had picked up on it but decided to ignore it. Seemingly wanting a change in subject Sherlock spoke "So why are you going home tonight?" he wasn't usually one for idle conversation but this seemed as good of an escape as he could find.

"Just fancied seeing my parents that's all" John avoided Sherlock's eye which was now glancing over him like it did when he was trying to figure out when John was hiding something. "Harriet is home for a time too and I haven't seen her in a while" Now this was true. His sister had married some man from Scotland, why John would never know, and had moved with him up north. It wasn't that he was a particularly bad person but Harriet had never seemed to be interested in marriage or settling down with anyone to be perfectly honest but he guessed the world worked in mysterious ways. And this half-truth was just enough to convince Sherlock of his intentions for the evening.

"Well give her my best" Sherlock and Harriet always did have a rather tempestuous relationship. John simply believed that each thought themselves better than the other and didn't question it any further but simply made a point of keeping them as far from each other as possible.

"So what are you going to do for the evening?" John questioned. He always got a bad feeling leaving Sherlock alone for long days at a time. His impending departure suddenly gripped him as he watch the sullen 18 year old think of something that might not make John ill with worry. He would have to leave-for how long was anyone's guess. Would he be okay? Would he be able to look after himself? Technically he was barely an adult and while his mind was as refined as any geniuses his social and domestic skills left something to desired.

Could John really leave him now? Go off and fight a war against some horrible Germans and leave Sherlock behind to fend for himself? He could feel the worry make its way across his face and the observing look that Sherlock gave him told him that it was true. But before he could answer the question John went to his room, leaving a slightly confused and deeply worried Sherlock behind.