John knew Sherlock was mad at him. No worse. He was hurt. And this made John hurt. Sherlock had left before John woke the next morning and did not return. By 7 that evening John was starting to worry. He knew there was every chance that Sherlock was avoiding him but deciding to ignore this he instead grabbed his jacket and keys, heading down the stairs and out into Baker's Street and the cool autumn air.

He pulled his coat up around his neck, much like Sherlock did, he thought, and headed off in the direction of Bart's hoping to find Sherlock engrossed in some experiment and having simply lost track of time. London was quieter this evening, just the few men and women walking along, the odd child amongst them. The park was deserted and dark from the lack of natural light with the evening already drawing in. Street light glow was mixed with the last of the days light as it set behind John, casting a faint shadow ahead of him.

The walk to St. Bart's barely took 15 minutes and he headed into the main building, choosing to instead go left instead of his usual right. The science department has located here. He had barely made it down the hallway when he heard his name.

"Watson?" he turned back to see who had called him. Mike Stamford, one of John's old classmates. He looked upset as he headed towards John.

"Evening Mike" John politely greeted.

"Why didn't you tell us?!" he exclaimed in John's face, excusing the niceties. John could now see how hurt he was. It seems like I'm hurting everyone, John thought.

"Look Mike I am sorry that I lied to you but I hadn't had the chance to tell Sherlock and I was worried that one of you guys might say something to him by mistake" John replied honestly, looking Mike in the eye, hoping he would understand. While John had become great friends with almost all in his year group, initially they were reluctant to accept him as they were all older than John but Mike had been the first and John had always remembered that. Mike seemed to believe him because his stance dropped and he nodded.

"Oh, okay sorry I just…when Moore told us this morning…" he didn't finish the sentence, shaking his head in sadness. He placed a firm hand on John's shoulder. "Are you sure about this John?" His worry truly touched John's heart.

"Yes I am sure Mike. I thought long and hard about this before I made up my mind" Mike nodded giving his shoulder one last squeeze before releasing it.

"Well me and the lads were only just saying how we were going to come find you and take you out to say farewell properly" Mike started before John cut him off.

"No, no Mike really there is no need for that"

"Don't be daft! You know the others won't accept that. Us doctors don't get many nights off and even fewer nights to enjoy a drink. Besides, they all wanted to say goodbye properly to you" now Mike was using his best puppy eyes on John. "Come on John. One last night all us lads together"

John was tempted to decline and just go and find Sherlock but he knew Mike would not stop until he got his way. Raising hands in surrender John nodded.

"Fine okay I'll go and see the guys but I'm making no promises about staying out" John scolded lightly following Mike off towards the hospital side of the building, giving one fleeting glance back towards the science department as he did. He would come back later after he had said his goodbyes to his friends.

Going back to the science building never happened. Once the others had seen John there was no stopping them from getting him into the nearest pub to buy him a farewell drink. He couldn't remember if this was his fourth or fifth drink but they seemed to be coming continuously from somewhere, appearing in front of him as the previous glass was emptied. Someone with a guitar had started playing off in a distant corner and some of the lads were currently engrossed in a rather loud rendition of a song that sounded nothing like the original to John. Mike was still beside him with Peter Simms on the other. Two of the guys had struck up conversations at the bar with two young girls and the rest were dancing in the little space available, still singing as loud and as dedicated as they had been from the start.

"So when do you leave John?" Peter asked.

"3 days. I have to be at the barracks on Saturday morning first thing and then it's on to France" John pointed off in some direction to emphasise his point.

"You're a braver man then me mate" Mike declared taking a long swig from his glass. He placed it down before speaking again. "I couldn't do it" he confirmed, shaking his head.

"You might not have a choice mate" this time it was Stephen who spoke, having finished his song and retaking his seat along with Simon, both taking large gulps of their pints.

"What…what do you mean?" Mike questioned suddenly worried. John could feel the tension coming off him. He too was curious as to what Stephen meant.

"Conscription" he said as if that was all the explanation it needed and truth be told, it was. Of course. Why hadn't John thought of it before?

"Do you really think they're going to do all that again?" Peter asked. He now also fully captivated by Stephen.

"I don't see why not. Like you've said they done it before and there's nothing to stop them doing it again if this bloody war goes like the last one" John couldn't deny his logic. The five sat in silence for a brief while each contemplating what it would mean if conscription started again. John felt suddenly more at peace with his decision for exactly that reason. It was his decision, not something forced onto him.

"I don't think I could handle it me, to be honest guys" Simon admitted quietly, mike nodding in feverent agreement.

"No I don't think I could either"

"But that's the point you won't have a choice. You would just have to go where they sent you and hope you come back alive" The mood suddenly dropped between them and deciding he would rather not dwell on his seemingly inevitable demise John decided to try and lighten the mood.

"Well thank you very much for reminding me and also for reminding me that it is your turn to buy me a drink!" he drained his glass for good measure and handed it to Stephen who smirked and walked to the bar. The tension seemed to lift ever so slightly and seeming to catch onto John's idea Paul spoke.

"Hey joining the army's not all bad" The others looked at him incredulously but he kept his face calm and winked "Ladies love a man in uniform after all"

The night went by quickly after that and there was no more mention made of the war itself and instead John chose to simply enjoy this last night with his friends. He didn't know what time it was when they left but Mike had taken it on himself to make sure John got home safely.

"I'm going to miss you Mike" John said, poking Mike's shoulder probably harder than he had meant to but the drink was seriously starting to affect him. Mike smiled and placed a firm hand on John's upper arm, much like Sherlock had the night before, to steady him and move him in the right direction.

"Thank you John. I have to say I am going to miss you too"

"No really though. You were very kind to me when I started at Bart's and I never said thank you so thank you" he had tried to perform what mike could only think was a bow or courtesy of sorts but Mike's well placed hand stopped John from falling head first to the pavement.

"It was no trouble, really. Now let's get you home before Sherlock gets worried" On the very few occasions in the past when John had come home late, Sherlock was usually sat up waiting for him.

"Sherlock? No Sherlock won't be worried about me" Mike could see how miserable John looked.

"Of course he will" But John shook his head vigoursly, slowing as the world spun violently around him.

"Oh that's not good" Mike decided to ignore their conversation settling instead to just getting John home before he passed out. He fished the keys from John's coat pocket and let them both into 221B. He had been here before and led John up to the apartment which was dark.

"Sherlock?" John called as he entered the room. Mike flipped the switch, making John wince at the change in brightness. He watched John walk to Sherlock's empty chair before turning back to Mike, pointing at the empty air. "See, he's not here" Mike didn't miss the pain in John's voice as he spoke. He wasn't stupid. He knew John and Sherlock were more than simply flatmates and friends he just didn't care. He knew it was because of Sherlock that John didn't have a girlfriend, not for a lack of willing admirers.

John turned suddenly and ran towards the bathroom, Mike listening for the eventual sound of John being sick. He allowed himself into the kitchen and poured a glass of water, holding ready when John finally came out, looking rather green in Mike's opinion. John accepted the glass and dropped himself intone of the chairs. He seemed to be sobering up by now, at least a little. His head was dropping where he sat, jolting him awake every time his head dropped.

"Come on John, bed" John nodded but instead of making his way upstairs he turned and headed into Sherlock's room. Without getting changed he dropped onto the bed and was asleep within minutes. Mike placed a fresh glass of water on the table beside the bed and closed the door behind him. He left a quick note of goodbye on John's desk and showed himself out of the apartment. He just hoped that whatever was going on between John and Sherlock that they sorted it out soon. John was leaving in 2 days.

Pain. Blinding, excruciating white hot pain greeted John when he opened his eyes, or tried to open his eyes. He didn't know where he was or what time it was or even what day it was. All he knew was he was never drinking a single drop of alcohol again. He took a few deep breaths before attempting to try and open his eyes again. Slowly, waiting for the haze to pass, he took in his surroundings. His mind was slower than normal but it soon jumped into gear when he realised where he was. Sherlock's room. Why was he in Sherlock's room, in Sherlock's bed? He looked down at himself. He was still dressed in his clothes from the day before, one of his shoes still on his feet. And he was cold from the lack of blankets, having fallen asleep on top of the covers. Eyeing the glass of water on the table he gulped it down greedily.

He managed to sit himself on the edge of the bed, listening out for signs of life in the apartment. When he heard nothing he made tentative steps to the door looking into the kitchen. "Sherlock?" He winced at the sound of his own voice, dragging himself into the living area. Nobody was there. Running a tired hand through his messy hair he decided he had better clean himself up and made his way to the bathroom.

Feeling more refreshed, though his head still felt like something was trying to chisel its way out of his skull he went back into the living room. It looked no different from when he had left yesterday so Sherlock hadn't disturbed anything if he had been here. The thought suddenly struck him. What if Sherlock had come home and saw John in his bed? Embarrassment flushed his face and he groaned audibly, though there was no one there to hear it.

"Stupid, stupid John" he muttered to himself. He turned to pace when his eyes caught the handwritten note on the desk. Frowning he pick it up and read.

John,

Hope you feel better in the morning. By the look of you, you'll be quite ill when you wake up.

I'm glad we got to say goodbye to you properly and I wish you all the luck I can and I hope you make it back to us in one piece. It has been a pleasure to know you.

Your friend

Mike.

John's heart almost burst with gratitude. He really did have a great friend in Mike. He folded the letter away and went to put it with his medical journal and paper he was bringing with him to send letter's home. Deciding to go and finally see where Sherlock was, he changed into something warmer and grabbed his coat, hoping the fresh air would help his headache. He caught his reflection before he left and sighed. He had to admit he looked terrible. The bags under his eyes were huge and he was quite pale. Running a quick hand through his hair he left the apartment. It was raining, just what John needed. Folding himself against the wind, he headed off on his usual path to St. Bart's.

This time he met no one upon entering and make his way up into the laboratories where Sherlock could usually be found. He searched all the usual spots, finding no sign of the tall messy mop of curls anywhere. He even went down to check the mortuary where Sherlock had been known to test some of his more unusual theories on the dead corpses but again there was no sign of him. As he was leaving he ran into a familiar brunette, Molly. She worked in the building, filing and keeping records but her knowledge of the human anatomy was rather extensive, according to Sherlock. She had quite the crush on Sherlock, much to John's unacknowledged displeasure, but Sherlock used her infatuation to his advantage, using the poor girl to gain access to things he shouldn't.

"Molly?" She jumped at his voice, turning and dropping whatever she was holding. John rushed to help her "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to startle you"

"Oh no, it's…fine. I'm…fine" She gathered the paper from John's hands, arranging them more neatly in her hands. "Can I help you?"

"Have you seen Sherlock today?" he watched her light spark at the mention of his name, and pushed his jealousy aside.

"Sherlock? No…no I haven't" Her disappointment was obvious "I haven't seen him since Tuesday" John frowned.

"You mean he didn't come in yesterday?" If anyone would know it would be Molly. She made it her mission to see Sherlock at least once every day. She shook her head.

"No he didn't…I mean I didn't see him when I looked yesterday…not that I was looking for him…" she flushed scarlet and John decided not to make her suffer.

"Thank you Molly" She nodded and rushed off in the opposite direction. Where on earth was Sherlock if he wasn't at Bart's?

He made his way back up into the building and out into the misty London streets, again bending himself against the wind. He had to get home and pack. He was going to stay at his parents' house tonight as a final goodbye before he left in 2 days. When he got back to Baker Street a familiar black car was parked outside, its diver waiting beside it. He nodded at John as he entered 221B. He made his way up the stairs and was greeted by Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock's older brother.

"Dr. Watson, a pleasure" he smiled from his place in Sherlock's chair, tea already in hand. Mrs. Hudson could be heard rattling around in the kitchen.

"Mycroft" John's reply was unmistakably cool. He made his way to the kitchen and told Mrs. Hudson to go and put her feet up and he would finish the tea. She took her leave and left both men to their stony silence. Once his cup was made John took his own seat across from Mycroft, making no attempt to speak. Mycroft seemed to be itching to anyway.

"Well well Mr. Watson, just what have you done to my poor baby brother that's got him all in a spin?" John's eyes flashed up from his cup to meet Mycroft's dark ones. He was so unlike his brother. Where Sherlock was tall lean, with more hair than most women and an electricity of adventure and somewhat madness about him Mycroft, while also tall was by no means as lean as Sherlock, nor as pale and his hair was trimmed within an inch of its life, precise and unmoving, much like Mycroft himself.

"You know where he is?" John couldn't help himself from asking. He was worried about the younger man.

"Yes he's at home, locked away in his room and refusing to talk to anyone, or shall I say me rather particularly" Mycroft's smirk never left his face as he spoke, finding his little brother's actions rather amusing.

"Why what have you done?" he didn't mean to sound angry but he could hear it in his voice anyway.

"He asked a favour of me, one I could do nothing about" John raised his eyebrows in question to Mycroft, knowing he understood. "He asked me to have you removed from the RAMC" John almost dropped his tea onto the ground. Sherlock had been so desperate to keep him in London that he had done the one thing he would never admit to – asking Mycroft for help. Just to keep John safe. Taking in the shocked expression on John's face, Mycroft's amusement grew. "Yes I was rather surprised myself when he came to me, seemed almost…desperate"

John remained silent, not trusting himself to speak. His mind was a mess of emotions none of which were making any sense. He was hurt and angry that Sherlock had gone behind his back to get Mycroft to have his dismissed or removed from the RAMC. Jealous that he had gone to Mycroft to talk to instead of him. And more deeply touched than he had ever been at Sherlock's attempts to protect him. And he missed him.

He eyed Mycroft again and something told him that Mycroft wasn't telling him the whole truth. According to Sherlock, Mycroft was about as high in the back crevices of the government as one could be, his advanced and capable brainpower was a highly valuable asset and he could just about deduce anybody who was lying to him just as Sherlock could. So why couldn't he grant Sherlock this, in John's opinion, rather easy request.

"You lied to him, didn't you?" John question. Mycroft seemed almost proud John had been able to deduce the situation himself.

"I did not think you would appreciate the gesture, though if I am wrong I am sure I might be able to make a few arrangements" He seemed to be almost testing John's resolve and he could feel it crumbling but he held the man's gaze.

"Won't it matter if they bring in conscription again? I'll just be called then instead, won't I?" John asked, remembering what Stephen had said the night before. Mycroft thought over this before answering.

"Perhaps and perhaps not" he replied. "I have a friend in the war office who I could speak to about your situation"

"So if you can keep me out of the army you could do it for others too?"

"In a manner of speaking" Mycroft seemed to be losing John's train of thought.

"So if conscription does come in, won't that mean that Sherlock can be called up?" He didn't remove his eyes from Mycroft's.

"I guess it would" Mycroft conceded. John nodded.

"You make sure that he never sets foot into this war Mycroft" John's voice was firm and hard.

"And what if he, like you, choses to enter voluntarily?"

"You and I both know the only reason Sherlock would go to Europe now would be to follow me!" John's tone was getting more and more agitated. John waited for the sarcastic comment or the snide remark but it didn't come. Mycroft simply nodded.

"Sadly this is true. My brother does seem rather…attached to you"

"So I am asking you now, do not let him do anything that will put himself in danger! Do you understand Mycroft? Anything, whether it's to do with the war or not. I need you to look out for him. And perhaps you could do a better job than the last time I asked you to watch out for him. Unless you've forgotten he ended up in hospital" John's voice had grown in volume to the point he was almost shouting at Mycroft by the end of his speech.

Mycroft didn't acknowledge John's request choosing instead to check his pocket watch.

"You should pack Mr. Watson. I am heading home myself for the evening and I do believe you are doing the same. Care for a ride?" he smirked up at John, making it clear he was done on the subject. John waited a moment before nodded and going to grab a change of clothes, his pyjamas and his toothbrush. When he returned to the living room Mycroft was stood waiting for him, his umbrella in hand.

"Shall we?" He led John out of the house and into the awaiting car. Neither spoke as they made their way out of London. It wasn't until they were pulling up to the Holmes drive that Mycroft spoke.

"I meant to inform you your sister was arrested on Tuesday night" John wasn't surprised considering her state when he left her on the doorstep. "Found sleeping in a doorway in east London I believe. Her husband came and got her. They returned to Scotland yesterday morning" John was saddened by this. He had hoped to see her before he left, despite his feelings towards her after their last conversation. The car stopped and both men vacated its confines. John looked up to the window of Sherlock's bedroom, watching the slight ripple of the curtain as someone moved from view.

"Quite the child my brother" Mycroft commented.

"Yes I am aware but I can't blame him for being mad at me" John conceded. He set off for his own house when he turned back to Mycroft "Tell him I'll come and talk to him later, if he wants"

"I will pass on your request" Mycroft was alarmingly helpful in John's opinion but he decided not to question it for fear he may bring the usually distant and emotionally void human back to his senses. Shouldering his small bag he made his way towards the old farmhouse.

Sherlock watched him go, sighing and wondering if he could slip into Mycroft's car unnoticed and escape now before he had to face John. He didn't want John to leave. He didn't want to say goodbye to the man he loved.