5th October 1914, Ashington, Northumberland
John hummed absent-mindedly as he straightened his collar in the mirror above the mantelpiece. Behind him, the small kitchen glowed in the soft morning light.
Everything was ready, his papers on the table next to the bread board, his kit bag waiting patiently by the door. The days had gone surprisingly fast since he'd received them. A haze of packing, of sharing drinks with the lads… and Harry, of course. It hadn't felt like he was holding onto anything, but now it was here.
He was leaving…
"John?"
He jumped. He'd been so caught up in his thoughts he hadn't even noticed her slip in. She was still wearing her nightdress, her hair mussed from a sleepless night. She looked so small and vulnerable for a moment, standing barefoot on the cold flagstone floor that it was almost easy to forget she was two years his senior. She still looked like a frightened fourteen year old, holding him tight while their father clattered around downstairs. The moment passed quickly.
"Morning" he smiled. She returned it, standing up straighter and running a hand through her tangled curls.
"Well, don't you look handsome in that uniform?" she crossed the table and straightened the collar he'd been examining for the last minute. "You best mind yourself going around like that, girls will be all over you!"
She brushed her fingers though his smartly combed fringe. She'd always been taller than him. He'd always held a secret hope that he'd have a sudden growth spurt but it never came, even now, nearly thirty, his big sister trumped him by a good two inches. He laughed. He didn't mind so much. Not today. Nor did he mind letting her play mother hen for bit.
"What time have you got to be off?"
"Trucks leave at seven" Her eyes flocked to the clock on the mantle that already read ten to and he felt a twinge of guilt. "You can still walk down with me some of the way…"
She opened and closed her mouth a few times. Then looked back at him and shook her head, smiling again.
"No, that's alright." She laughed "Feels like your first day of school all over again"
He coughed awkwardly.
"Have you got everything you need?" it was an attempt at nonchalance, but he could see her throat contract with the effort of keeping the lump that must have settled in it at bay. And suddenly it really hit him.
She was going to miss him.
And he was going to miss her...
Not quite trusting himself to answer vocally all of a sudden he settled for a nod.
Partially subconsciously perhaps, she pressed a hand to his cheek. Then, realising what she was doing, she stiffed and ran her hand through her hair again instead.
"Want me to make you a sandwich?" she asked overly brightly.
"Harry-"
"Cheese alright?" she turned away, picked up the bread knife. Her hand trembled. She ignored it and reached for the bread. "I know you prefer jam, you're such a child" she teased, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Harry" he repeated.
"I'm sorry. We don't have any butter, if you-"
"Please" he grabbed her wrist. The knife fell back to the table with a dull clunk.
They stood there a moment, frozen in a bizarre tableau, unwilling to acknowledge it but knowing that they were going to have to
They'd never had to say goodbye before.
Then, both unsure how it happened she was in his arms.
He let her head fall onto his chest and just held her while her shoulder shook with silent sobs that had been held off too long. For a good minute neither of them spoke. Then with a shaking breath she stood back and looked him dead in the eye with a menace only a sister could conjure.
"You better damn well take care of yourself, you hear me?"
"Yeah" it came out a croak. He cleared his throat. "I will"
She scrutinised him a moment longer and gave him a curt nod.
She picked up the table-cloth abandoned on the back of one of the dining chairs and wiped her face.
No more tears.
That just wasn't how they operated.
"Write me. As often as you can, alright?"
"I promise" he agreed solemnly. "And you-" he faltered "Um, you'll take care of yourself right?" he nibbled his lower lip, "You won't… y'know… like when Mum died?"
Harriet crossed her arms sternly.
"Now don't you dare worry about me, John Hamish Watson. I'm going to be perfectly fine. I've got plenty to keep me busy. You worry about yourself. I don't claim to know much about these things but I hear it's not sunshine and roses out there. You make sure you come back in one piece, okay?"
He swallowed.
"I will"
"Right" she looked at the clock, "You don't want to be late now do you?"
John shook his head.
"Well, no point standing on ceremony. What you waiting for? A twenty-five guns salute?"
He chuckled, went to the back door and picked up his bag then slung it over his shoulder.
"See you soon, Harry" he raised a hand in an awkward half wave.
"You better" she pursed her lips sternly, but shot him a small wink.
The rising sun was warm on his face as he walked down the road.