Ever since I wrote The Photograph, I've been thinking about Watson in the RAMC, and this came to me at lunch today. It's a snippet of a conflict that may have occurred at any time…
War
Bullets ricochet around me as I dive behind the nearest barrier for protection.
Cautiously, I peek around and aim my own revolver, thoroughly relieved when I hear the weapon drop as my victim grabs his leg, howling in pain.
A fellow soldier nearby nods at me and pops off two shots, sending one fore to his knees and another sprawling. He does not make it out of the way, however, and one of the askew bullets catches his shoulder, sending him reeling backwards.
I make a desperate lung for him, every fibre of my being shouting at me to do my duty here.
I catch the young soldier in my arms and lay him gently down, as he groans painfully and gasps, "Doctor…"
Maiwand was war…
I fumble for a handkerchief and press it solidly against the bleeding shoulder, marveling at how brave this young combatant is, to risk his life for his country so unhesitatingly.
More bullets sound from all directions…ferocious shouts in a language I do not comprehend…the feel of a young hero's warm blood on my fingers…the heat of the evening sun upon my perspiring neck…
"Behind you, Doctor!" shouts the young man frantically, his voice hoarse with his suffering.
I turn scarcely in time to react; I do not even think before, in one blindingly swift movement, I have grabbed my service revolver and sent the oncoming adversary collapsing in a heap.
…but then…
There does not seem to be any more approaching us at this moment, but there soon will be - no one is safe in this battle for any great period of time, this I have brutally learnt.
I turn again to my fallen comrade, who watches me with worn, childlike eyes as I wrap his shoulder in a makeshift bandage…it will have to do until cleaner linens can be found…
Vaguely, I think of what a young man he is, scarcely twenty-five…surely he must be so very afraid…
"Watson," my comrade-in-arms says in a clear, eager voice, "we must get to the Yard and inform Lestrade of these substantial new developments!"
…I moved to Baker Street.
THE END
Be sure to read the lines in italics as a full thought, or you might miss a bit of it.
Well, whatcha think? Did I fool you at all? At least for a bit? It's kinda hard to tell if it's convincing or not, when you're editing it and you already know the punch line…hope someone likes it okay…*crosses fingers nervously*
BTW…for any one interested, I posted a drabble story and Lonan Hoyt and Adam Wilson's profiles on FictionPress, under the Penname .Adahara Adler. (don't forget the periods). Not sure if there's anything I should add to the descriptions, and I still need a solid plot for the first official chapter story…any suggestions from my trusted Holmesians would be awesome…:D
