Here we go. Let's have some fun!

Chapter 10

Waking up in a hospital always left the DI disconcerted, but as the white ceiling came into view, and the gentle, sloping light that fell from the huge window to his right washed over him, warming him gently, Greg decided that maybe hospitals weren't that bad to wake up in. He blinked as moved his head slowly, looking to see if anyone was in the room, and then realised that hospitals weren't this quiet. As more of his senses returned, he realised that while the room was white, it was carpeted and the window was shaped like the ones from his family cottage when he was growing up; low down and wide with flowers growing outside in a window box. He also realised that he was lying on a double bed, with nightstands on either side, which meant that he was in a house.

Sitting up slowly, Lestrade reached for the jug on the bedside table and poured himself a glass, noticing, as his arm came into view, that he was wearing pyjamas – soft cotton ones, with blue stripes. Smiling slightly, Lestrade drank, allowing the cool liquid to wash away a slightly bitter taste in his mouth and to wake him up completely.

Putting the glass down, Lestrade threw his covers back and looked himself over. No bandages, no pain…nothing...so why was he in bed in the middle of the afternoon, and where was everyone? As he thought, memories flashed through his head; blood, a hospital, standing at Sherlock and John's doorstep, sleep, a boat, Stone, and then…his heart almost stopped as he remembered why he was here. Or rather, who had brought him here: John, the good army doctor, whose only crime was wearing clothing that was far too form fitting.

Shaking his head, Lestrade got to his feet and walked to the window. Opening it, he breathed in the scent of freshly mown grass and took in the sight in front of him. He was in a cottage, surrounded by a good amount of land, flowers blooming everywhere, and a gardener filing a bag with the grass he had just cut. However, that wasn't what caught Lestrade's attention. Standing out in stark contrast to the beautiful natural life that surrounded them, was a metal fence, enclosing what was obviously a military camp, spreading for almost three kilometres, as far as Lestrade could see from his easterly positioning, His mouth hung slightly agape as gunfire reached his years and a troop of around twenty men came marching into sight, well away from the fence that seemed a lot more solid that the usual mesh that was used.

Lestrade made his way back to the bed and considered it. He hadn't slept properly in a while…and it wasn't like he needed to go anywhere. Climbing back into it, the DI pulled the covers back over himself and allowed his mind to relax. To forget that he may or may not have a crush of Sherlock's John and forgetting that he was meant to be training at the moment and freeing himself of the heavy weight of loss that Julianne left in her wake. He just let himself be. As he was. No distractions.

John collapsed into the mud, joining Sherlock and Sally as Scout grinned wickedly from his position almost one hundred metres way from where they were. As soon as the team hit dry land, they went down to check on Lestrade and were greeted by the sight of the unconscious DI. John went into immediate doctor mode and checked all his vitals to find that they were normal – but the DI would not wake up, not even when Sherlock tipped a bucket of water on him and received a bruise on his arm from where John punched him for his apparent 'stupidity'. Sherlock was still fuming. He wasn't an idiot. Nine of ten times, cold water served to wake a person up, he adamantly told John. The doctor replied by saying that the other one out of ten times, the person can go into further shock. Sally couldn't contain a chuckle, and when John had turned back to Lestrade, straightening out his legs and laying a hand on his forehead to check his temperature, Sherlock aimed a good kick at Sally's shin. She could still feel the pain.

John stared at Scout as he began to walk towards them and wondered how Stone was coping back at HQ. The director had gone back there to see whether or not they could find out who had been controlling the boat and said he would drop by to give them the update. They had no idea where they were going, and he assured them that this time there would be absolutely no chance of anything going wrong. When they asked what would happen to Lestrade – who was being taken in another vehicle, identical in almost every way to the one they weer travelling in, Stone smiled and said it would be taken care off and he wouldn't be too far way from them.

John groaned as he moved his abused muscles to stand for their drill sergeant,

"That was rather pathetic," Scout said, coming to stand in front of them, any trace of a smile wiped off his face, "It was rubbish Do you hear me? I've seen twelve year old girls do better push ups than that," he stated, waiting for Sally to get to her feet and watched as Sherlock and John pulled her up,

'Yes," Sherlock muttered, in a rather sulky mood about how he hated army fatigue and he hated mud even more. Scout glared at him and John sighed. Sherlock had to remember that respect was mandatory in the army,

"What was that?" Scout asked, deciding to give Sherlock a chance. The consulting detective was far too moody for that, "I said, yes," he repeated and the sergeant nodded,

"Right, three laps around the entire camp. You will use 'sir' when addressing a senior officer," he said and Sherlock groaned while Sally's mouth turned upwards. The sergeant, being far too sharp not to notice this, then added, "All of you," John almost turned around and smacked Sherlock right there and then when he realised that three laps around the entire camp meant almost 24 kilometres, as each side of the camp was exactly two kilometres in length. "Major, I'm sure you'd love to lead," Scout said, somehow managing to sound sweet despite the tone of his voice.

Ignoring the fact that they were the only ones still in training and everyone else was going in to lunch they started their run. The midday sun burned above them, hotter than they had previously experienced that entire day as John took the lead, Sally followed behind him and Sherlock pulled up behind the two of them. Scout followed in a jeep yelling orders out. As they went past the solid buildings, they gathered quite a crowd, mostly male, all yelling encouragement as Scout picked the pace up and John followed, his mind set on just completing the rounds. Blocking out all the sounds around him, John focused on every footfall and the squelch it made as it connected with the muddy ground. One after the other was him motto, as Scout continued to edge the pace up on their first lap.

Sally, completely unused to running so much was lagging behind John as she struggled to keep up with the major, who's rhythmical pace looked almost mechanical.

One lap passed.

It was halfway through the second lap that Sally had to stop, her lungs burning, her heart racing. John faltered and wanted to check on her, but a shout from Scout meant that he had to keep running. He glanced at Sherlock, who, like him, had stripped outer garments and was left only with his thin t-shirt and pants. The consulting detective looked tired, but had a glint in his eye that John had come to associate with chasing criminals down. With making sure that he was safe – with ensuring that he got everything he needed out of this relationship, even though he repeatedly told Sherlock that he was all the doctor needed.

Onwards they went for their third lap, already having run sixteen kilometres. This was beyond humane. This was madness, but not one person in the camp did anything about it, because this was how real soldiers were made. This is how they knew that they were ready for the hardships waiting for them out there.

The yells of encouragement grew louder as they went around the second side. One foot in front of the other. One more step. Another. Another.

Behind him, John could hear Sherlock's laboured breaths, and looked behind him, "Sherlock?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper,

"Hmm?" the detective replied, the pain evident in his voice,

'Are…you…alright?" John managed, knowing that asking was draining him of his own strength. Sherlock smiled slightly,

"Don't worry," he replied as Scout noticed they were talking,

'If you have the energy to talk, I'm sure you can do another lap, right?" John's head snapped around the front again, "didn't think so," the drill sergeant said, but he was smiling. He hadn't expected Sally to go as long as she had. Out of everyone, she was the least fit and therefore did exceedingly well for her first day. They all did.

Finally, mercifully, it was over. Sherlock and John, not for the first time today, let their legs go out from underneath them and flattened themselves on the ground, their legs trembling and their muscles screaming, attempting to get their breathing under control as the sun rode low on the western horizon, hours having passed since they started. They were hungry, and they were wet and cold and tired.

Scout looked at them with a blank expression as the freshly showered Sally joined them on the field. "Good work," Scout said and John looked up at him, wiping the sweat off his face,

'Thankyou,' he said, his breathing coming back down quickly. Sherlock was about to add something else when the gates there were sitting next to swung open wide, and a black car that they were beginning to find quite familiar drove in.

They watched in silence as it stopped and Stone stepped out, heading straight for them, as the commanding officer of Catterick training base, North Yorkshire, came out of his office from not far away. Stone stopped in front of them, towering over the consulting detective and the doctor. He wrinkled his nose in distaste as he took in their state,

"You're a mess," he said and John had to fight the urge to hit the man. Or tackle him. Either way. Sally rolled her eyes and addressed him,
"So, what's the news?" she asked,

'Well," he looked a little uncomfortable, 'we know who hijacked the ship," he said and immediately, John's plans for revenge on the irritating man subsided – for now,

'What?" he asked,

"Well…" Stone glanced around as the officers of the boot camp approached them, curious as to who he was and how he got in, "How about I tell you inside?" he asked and Sherlock, John and Sally all exchanged a glance. Something big was going on here and if it involved the director himself then…well, they weren't about to miss out on all the fun.

Okay. The real case is starting now. Just thought I'd get some training done before all that though, it seemed like a good idea.

:D

Thankyou soooooo much for your support and for reading! Cookies to all my reviewers and hugs from Sherlock and John (and Jim just for a special someone)

Aza

xoxo