Quick Note: This was originally posted in 2014 - I'm starting to go through and clean up the early chapters, but progress will continue on the story in the meantime!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Sherlock Holmes in any of their various iterations. No rights to any of this, just playing around with some characters and having some fun!

Finally - sorry for the (very) short length of this. It's a little filler chapter that I felt was necessary before continuing.


John Watson did not die that day in the desert. He and the soldier he was tending to when he was wounded were both extracted shortly after he collapsed, and both survived, though John was right: the young soldier lost his leg because of the tourniquet.

Arguably, the man may have lost the limb anyway. The roadside bomb had shredded the meat and muscle of his leg to the bone. John wasn't sure anyone could recover a limb from damage like that, including himself.

The doctors and nurses told John he was a living miracle. By all accounts, he shouldn't have survived. The sniper's shot was too close to his heart. He had lost so much blood by the time he'd been extracted. The surgeon who worked on him informed him that he was lucky. The damage to his shoulder was extensive, but the bullet managed to miss his heart by mere millimeters, and did only minimal damage to his lung.

John didn't feel lucky. With his damaged shoulder, he now suffered nerve damage in his left hand, his dominant hand. His days as a surgeon and a soldier were at an end, just when he needed them most. He remembered what had happened - who he'd been before - and wasn't happy about it. He wanted to go back out with his team. He wanted to save lives, or end them. To be surrounded by heat and cold and blood and bone and sudden violence and long stretches of boredom.

Instead, John was invalided home. He was sent back to London, honorably discharged from the RAMC and given medals and letters thanking him for his service. He was instructed to rest and recuperate and reintegrate himself into civilian life.

Deep inside of John Watson, Harry Potter sighed. Becoming John Watson had been an attempt to get away. Then, for John Watson, medical school and enlisting, had been part of an effort to get away from a disappointed and disappointing family, from expectations of failure. For a short time, John had known success. He'd worked hard, he'd been of use in his service. He'd been recognized and appreciated. He'd felt - finally - something close to contentment. He felt like he might just be a part of something, like he belonged.

Unfortunately, while he seemed to have mastered - and remastered - Death, Life could still muck about with him on a whim. That camaraderie he'd found in the service had been taken from him. He ought to be used to these unfair twists of fate by now, he mused bitterly to himself.

John pulled a tight smile – more of a grimace, really – and nodded to himself as regarded his discharge papers from the Veteran's hospital.

"Right." He huffed and nodded to himself. "All right," he said with more conviction and determination in his eye, and with a much put-upon exhalation, he prepared himself for the challenges to come.


Thank you for reading! I respond to all reviews (if they aren't anonymous) through PM (as long as PM is enabled on your account). I'd love to know what you think as you read along. Questions/comments/critiques are always welcome.

-M