Wow... thank you to everyone for the review, alerts and favourites. It's always great to see that others will be following the story you write. This is taking a different twist then I originally planned... which is a good thing, I think. It took me a little longer then normal to write this, due to those plot changes. Also, be aware, Sherlock/Moriarty is becoming involved.

Please, review. I like to see feedback, and always seek to improve my writing skills.

They had found a quieter room in which to discuss the matter. Chatley's office was, of course, private, but he needed it free for other matters throughout the day. There was also the fact that he and Sherlock had an instant dislike for each other, and Chatley tended to be very rude to those he disliked. This Sherlock Holmes was an unknown entity as yet, so caution was needed.

This room was technically John's own office. Since he was a rank below Chatley, he was, in a sense, second in command, and the highest ranking medical personnel in the unit (he hadn't been able to decide if that was a good or bad thing yet). He had never seen a need to be in here though, since his job was hands-on, and for his own time and space he had his quarters. The room was small, sparse, but served it's purpose.

As they entered the room, John switched on the lamp on the desk, then glanced around. Sherlock had already come inside, and was looking around him. John was having trouble reading his expression. It was almost... frustrated. But John couldn't see what, in this room, could cause frustration.

"Have a seat." John said, as a way to break the silence. He gestured to one of the chairs before the desk.

"You don't use this office." Sherlock said, as he took a seat. It was a statement, not a question.

"No... I don't see the point. The medical bay and surgical table are my real places of work." John came and sat down opposite him. Again, there was that frustrated look. "Why is that a problem for you."

"It's difficult to read military people. You all wear the same uniform, and it's always spotless, or else covered in very similar stuff. Sand, blood, mud... you get the picture. I hoped your office would give some clue."

"I'm sorry... what do you mean?" John really wasn't following. Sherlock seemed slightly hesitant.

"I... read people. You can tell a lot about a person from what they wear, their hair, their mannerisms. All i've been able to read about you is that you're a military doctor, you've just come back from doing a medical procedure, and you don't trust me yet." His eyes were on John's, and it was very hard not to blink, not to confirm his assumption.

"How did you know about the second two?" John asked after a moment.

"There was a smell of anti-bacterial gel as you came into the office. Not that cheap... hand sanitiser stuff either, the proper version used by doctors and nurses. So you've just scrubbed up after a procedure. And the second one... I wouldn't trust a person i'd just met who'd told me he wants help to kill a man either."

John let out a faint chuckle, despite himself.

"Wow... alright. Are you going to tell me what this is about?"

Sherlock leaned back for a moment... seemed to be considering him again. Then he got up in a fluid motion, began to walk around the room. As he walked, he began to speak.

"The man I seek is a criminal. He has major ties in London and many other parts of the world and has amassed his own... network, so to speak. He is a dangerous man, and needs to be stopped. This is the perfect opportunity to do so."

"You said he was injured..."

"Yes. One of his deals went wrong. There was a failure he did not foresee. The men who failed were taken out, but not before they managed to injure him first. He will not be able to run far, he needs to stay where he is for treatment."

"Then why kill him? Why not find him, have him arrested?"

"No." Sherlock's voice was flat, colder then before. "That is not the answer here. He would find a way to escape prison, have a back-up plan. There is only one way for this to end."

John was watching the man closely.

"You speak as though you know him."

"I do." Sherlock answered abruptly. Seeing from the corner of his eye John's blank expression, he gave a little more illumination. "We were... intimate. Not in a loving or personal manner, he isn't... that sort of creature. It was a means to get what he wanted, nothing more."

"I see." He really did. He wasn't going to make the man specify. Truth be told, he didn't want to know. After a moment, John got to his feet. "And what did he get from this?"

"Government secrets. Plans. He... convinced me to speak to my brother, who is in the government, and get his information."

"Jesus..." John said softly, and Sherlock glanced round at him. John was looking down at the floor, obviously milling it all over. Sherlock was stunned. He had expected... revulsion, confusion, something along those lines. But the man looked as though he understood the implications... as though he understood all of it. He felt part relief, part anger. He really hated it when his brother was right about things. It looked as though he had been right about choosing John Watson.

"If what you're saying is all true... I can see why you want to do this. And i'd consider helping yo find him but..." John hesitated, glanced away. This was new territory for him. "I'm no expert in killing people, Mr Holmes-"

"Sherlock." Sherlock corrected.

"... Sherlock. I'm a soldier, so yes, i've been trained with guns, I can shoot people..."

"You misunderstand me. I didn't say I wanted you to shoot a man, or to kill him. I need you to help me kill him."

"So... you want my advice?"

"In a manner of speaking. I... would be happier to discuss this if you said you were interested in taking part."

"Huh... no pressure then." John leant forwards, thinking it over. After what must have been a full minute, he looked up and gave a nod. "I'm interested in helping. Convincing the Major, however, could be a big task."

Sherlock paused, unsure whether he should ask the question in his mind. But it needed asking.

"Then why are you convinced?"

"Because..." John considered for a moment, then spoke truthfully "I see no reason not to trust you. You've been frank with me about something that..." He shook his head slightly to show his disbelief. "While I don't understand why you've been so frank, I respect that."

"Fair enough." Sherlock said, with a slight smile. John felt an odd flipping sensation in his stomach.

"So... will you tell me now what my role in this will be?"

"It's two-fold. You guessed correctly, I do want your advice, your... help in how to do this. A way to make this quick. I also need your assistance in a second part."

"Which is?"

"Well..." Sherlock considered for a moment, then gave what, looking back, John considered a teasing smile. "How do you feel about espionage?"