AN - This is pretty short, but I wanted to get you past that awful cliffy.


Chapter 7 - Wake Up, Captain

John Watson ceased to exist in that darkness; there was only memory and fear. He was beyond himself, so when the cave started to shift around him all of his fear was known, the cave was falling around him, he was going to die buried in Afghanistan alone and useless. He cried out in the muffled darkness. Then hands grabbed him and pulled and he screamed. They had come for him and he couldn't wrestle himself free. Somehow his feet were free and he kicked out regardless of the pain coming from his stab wound. He hit the ground pinning his hands under his body in his panic he managed to back himself into a wall. Hyper sensitive any noise received a blind kick. He managed to connect but his foot was caught and he curled in on himself defeated and terrified.

The bag was ripped unceremoniously from his head and he cast his eyes about the cave pupils blown wide and still not seeing. The gag was yanked viciously from his mouth. He screamed angrily at the dust covered cave dweller who was tormenting him. He wondered what he had said to provoke such a look of confusion and anger. When he was left alone suddenly, John pressed himself against the wall with his shoulder and rubbed his forehead against it trying to calm himself down.

LondonLondonLondonLondon. His mind chanted at him.

There was a noise and he jerked to meet it, the man was familiar, but he'd never been in a cave in Afghanistan. That's right, Brother Slam, his brain provided.

"Back with us, Hamish?" The man questioned cautiously keeping his distance.

"I'm in London." John rasped. "And Sherlock is coming."

"Right, of course there's the Captain Sister wants to come down for breakfast." He nodded and walked over to John helping him softly to his feet taking some of his weight. "Brother was slightly peeved with you last night huh? Still it was a bit much of him." The man said gently smoothing down the ruined shirt as best he could.

John pulled away from the hands weakly but couldn't and the man simply finished his task before decisively removing the handcuffs from doctor's bloodied and bruised wrists. John looked at them in surprise. He knew he'd been fighting but it hadn't occurred to him the damage he could inflict.

"Come along Hamish, Sister's waiting, and she can get so impatient." The man gave John a gentle push, but John managed to stop and turn to the large man a question on his lips. "Go on then, I don't bite." The man encouraged.

"There must be a toilet. Somewhere I can clean up?" John indicated his wrists and sweat stained shirt, hoping that the fact he wished to wash the tear stains from his face was ignored. As awful as he felt he wanted to hold to the pretense that he still had his pride. The man could easily force him down those stairs and chain him with the rest it wouldn't be difficult with John as weak as he was just then, but the man just nodded softly and put a large hand on his shoulder.

He led him out of the office and just to the left instead of down to the 'living area.' There was a small toilet where he let John have five minutes to himself.

After relieving himself John set the water running he made himself drink slowly and then let the cool water pour stingingly over his injured wrists. He pulled off the ill-fitting and ruined top shirt and tore strips from his undershirt to wrap the wounds; satisfied that he'd managed as well as he could with the given circumstances, he pulled the sweat-stained garment back on and tucked it in as neatly as he could manage. He washed his face thoroughly before an impatient knock had him turning off the tap, straightening his back allowing the soldiers mask to fall back in place, and walking shakily out the door before he could be dragged out. The larger Brother merely placed a guiding hand on his shoulder and took him back down towards the 'living area' where the others were waiting anxiously.

"My, my Captain, how absolutely dreadful you look. I do hope you're feeling alright? Up to some breakfast at least." Sister said oozing false sympathy while her malicious eyes eagerly soaked up his weary form.

"Bad nights plague old soldiers like me." John rasped. "Nothing serious milady." He tilted his head respectfully. "I wouldn't say no to a spot of breakfast." He tried to smile but he really was an awful actor, the words came out but they fell flat.

Brother steered him to one of the pallets on the floor and once he was seated the chain slicked shut around his ankle making him shiver.

"Hamish is too reserved to worry you Sister dear, but he has had a rough night." He announced. "He should rest as much as possible today, I'm afraid our Brother may have caused the good Captain a nightmare or two with his questions."

Sister's eyes grew wide as she placed a plate with a slice of toast and a bowl of porridge on it in front of John. "Oh Captain, how rude of him. I shall make certain he knows the price of his unwanted questions on you, don't you worry at all." She said soothingly.

"Sister is too kind." John managed meekly eating a spoonful of the bland cereal thankful his stomach didn't reject it. He took a bite of the toast and broke into a body shaking cough. Sister took the plate in a rush to sit near him and bash his back with her palm to 'help' him breathe again but really just slammed into his already bruised back making him wince. "Thank you." He managed once he could take a breath again. The plate was gone though as was his chance at a breakfast.

"Lay down Captain, I insist." Sister demanded and John complied. His eyes closed of their own accord blocking out the concerned looks of his fellow captives who watched him openly unlike last night.


AN - It only now occurs to me that the chapter is called wake up, but it ends with John going to sleep. I'd change it but it kind of amuses me now.