John woke to complete darkness. For a moment he wondered if this was how Sherlock felt all the time. He used to attempt to go throughout the day with his eyes closed to try to see how Sherlock felt, but whenever he worried that he would run into something he just opened his eyes and Sherlock couldn't do that. This moment was more similar to what Sherlock had to endure, but it still wasn't the same because his eyes were already starting to adjust.
There were others in the room, he realized once his eyes were fully adjusted. He could see shapes of men. Some of them much to skinny and some of them holding their bodies awkwardly in order to favor a wound. It worried John's doctor mind to have so many people in this room that looked like they were all in danger for some reason or another. He sat up quickly in order to start attending his patients, but he was immediately stopped when a jolt of searing pain shot through his shoulder and across his body.
"Easy there," the man closest to him said as he caught him so he wouldn't fall and damage himself even more. He helped John sit up until he was leaning against the wall.
"How bad is it?" John asked as he prodded his now bare shoulder to check his wound. It was properly taken care of, but it bothered John that he didn't have anything wrapped around it. He took off what was left of his ripped up shirt and tore it to pieces to wrap around the wound. It was a painful process, but it needed to be done.
"I can't really see it," the man gave a short laborious cough, "but it looked pretty severe in the light."
"Not my shoulder," John shook his head. "How bad is it in here."
"Oh," the man realized suddenly. "It's not looking good. We're lucky we're all still alive, though some of us are only barely."
"Food?" John asked. "Water?"
"They give us a small amount everyday," the man explained, "but good luck getting any in your condition. Down here it's every man for himself."
"Are you okay?" John asked.
"Yea man," the soldier laughed. "I was knocked out by a bomb and the next thing that I know I'm in here with the rest of these guys."
John sighed, but he had heard that cough. He would have to do a more thorough check on the man later when he had the strength to do so. Just then a bright light flooded into the room and a bag was tossed inside. Immediately, anyone who could move was diving at the bag and pulling out as much food as they could grab.
"Stop this now!" John demanded in his most authoritative voice as he jumped forward and snatched the entire bag away from them. He wasn't very far up in the ranks, but he was a doctor and he knew how to demand things from his patients even when they were higher ranking than him. Luckily, John being the newest member of the group meant that he was also the fastest and the strongest so he was able to wrestle the bag away from the people. "Look at you all," he continued once he had the bag in his hands. "What happened to the respectable men in the army? What happened to the soldiers?"
"You want it all to yourself," one of the men growled.
"I want us all to survive," John growled back. Everyone shut up at his voice. John had the uncanny ability to make that happen when he wanted people to listen to him and he had several different ways of doing it depending on the situation. "Look," he sighed. "We all need food, but some of us need it more than the rest. I propose that we separate it out so that we all get as much as we need. I'll take one of the smaller amounts since I'm relatively new and can last longer with less food. More food will be given to those who are severely injured and ill."
"Aren't you severely injured?" asked the man who had helped John earlier. He wasn't arguing with the plan, it was actually very good and would hopefully help them survive a little longer, but it seemed that John should also be the one to get some more food.
"I'll be fine," John answered respectfully. "Now I'm going to hand out the food after I figure out how many of you there are so that we can be fair to everyone. Then I'm going to go around and check all of your injuries. Hopefully I can help with some of them."
"Are you a doctor?" someone asked.
"I am," John nodded. "My name is John Watson and I was brought into the war because of my medical expertise."
The first man that he went to to give food was the man that had helped him. "My name's Chris by the way," he coughed. "I think that everything's going to get better now that you're here."
"I'm not so sure about that," John frowned, but he moved on quickly to the others.
