Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing
Authors Notes: Strong tones of Holmes/Watson friendship/brotherhood.
Warnings – I discuss the vile practice of men preying on young boys for unsavoury purposes in this one – and Holmes comes to the wrong conclusion (I can't say anything else cos it'll ruin the suspense). Just thought that you should know that topic comes up later on; nothing graphic is described though.
Medals Not Worn In Public
Prologue – part three – Holmes
Watson did not see what it was that arrested my attention we hurriedly exited that gallery, and I never mentioned it to him. It was bad enough that he had suffered such a shock at the callous hands of my older brother without being further mortified by the subject of the small painting set to one side.
In it there was a man, clearly in the midst of fighting for his life. He was in uniform, splattered with blood and dust. He carried one man over his back and was firing off the canvas at an unseen enemy. In the background several other men struggled along behind him to reach the safety of a small rocky escarpment. All of them had been wounded and received rudimentary medical attention – the kind known as 'first aid': enough to stave off encroaching death until true treatment could be administered. All of them were clearly looking to the man in the foreground for that further treatment, as well as the more immediate protection he was offering with his service weapon. His face was set, determined, his stance indomitable. His features were clearly recognisable, the same dear features that I faced every morning over the breakfast table.
I knew that I would never ask him if the picture had been captured from true life. I would never need to. I saw that same expression in the course of our work when things were at their darkest.
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