Late October 1918
Calais
John Watson would not be returning to England as planned. With heavy heart he penned his apologies. How could he accept early discharge when there was so much to be done? Who would stabilise those remaining patients for evacuation, oversee the demobilisation of his field hospital, or see to his men?
As the ship filled with the last of the invalids, he handed the envelope to a pale young soldier.
'Please give this to my friend. He was expecting me.'
Hoisting his duffle, Watson turned his back to the ship. Holmes would be furious, but at least he would understand.
Author's Note:
This drabble was in response to a prompt which was a poem about a hospital ship. I chose the time setting of Watson's service in WWI.