Hi!
The kids have finally grown up (which is kind of sad... But, hey, that is life!).
In this chapter, I will concentrate on John´s life before meeting Sherlock again. I wasn´t sure, how much I should elaborate it, but I really liked writing about it... I´d appreciate feedback! :)
-everyJohn
Years passed and Sherlock soon forgot his initial dream of becoming a pirate captain and put all his time and effort into becoming the greatest detective there had ever been.
During his teen years there had been a case of a young boy, who drowned in a swimming pool. Sherlock had been greatly upset, when no-one had taken opinions in account during the investigation. After that it had not taken long for him to begin his first experiences with drugs.
From ages 16 to 24 Mycroft lived in constant fear of getting a call telling that his younger brother had been found somewhere either overdosed or badly beaten. He used whatever means he could to save his little brother from his own reckless behavior (including bribery, blackmail and forced rehabilitations with world known specialists). Nothing helped.
Then, suddenly, without any warning Sherlock had changed the down whirl direction of his life once again. He had voluntarily went through the rehabilitation, which Mycroft couldn´t have forced him to take only a couple of weeks earlier. Sherlock had worked himself clean of drugs and had began to consult police in especially difficult investigations. (Apparently a police officer called Lestrade had promised to provide him with suitable cases as long as he stayed clean.) Around that time Sherlock had also rented an apartment from Baker Street. His landlady was a nice, elderly widow and at first Mycroft had been sure that his younger brother would be kicked out sooner or later, but to his surprise the land lady, miss Hudson, loved his bother dearly and didn´t seem to mind his eccentric habits.
The very first thing Sherlock had brought to his new place had been the polished skull, which he placed carefully on a dresser, in good view.
Sherlock´s life was now as good and proper as Mycroft had ever even hoped it to be (considering that it was his little brother´s life, of course). Only problem was that the apartment was too big and expensive for Sherlock to keep alone and it was difficult to find a flat mate, who wouldn´t run away while screaming after coming to contact with dismembered body parts (Sherlocks´s experiments).
In Afganistan
-Put that thing away, boy. Or someone might actually get hurt, John suggested talking highlightedly slowly, every fiber in his body concentrating on being as peaceful and unthreatening as possible. The young Afghan man seemed to only tighten his hold on the hunting riffle. He had this wild look in his brown eyes as he shouted agitatedly something in his own language. He glanced furtively around tossing his dark head like a wild horse. He seemed to be barely of age and was probably reckless enough to actually shoot.
John huffed. He frowned his brows in concentration and tried to ignore his beating heart. He decided on another approach. If he acted convincingly enough, the boy might back of. He was after all almost a child, still used to being ordered around by his father and older brothers.
-Oh, Great heavens! Someone, tell him that I am a doctor. I didn´t do it to hurt the girl. I cut her, but I did the bloody surgery to save her. The girl is alive, damn it! John cursed voice tight.
There was low buzzing among the villagers. Then an old woman, that was hunched and wrinkled enough to be at least a hundred years old, cleared out a path for herself through the crowd by waving her wooden staff. When she reached John and the young man she gave an exhausted sigh. She was talking slower than the boy and John could understand most of what she was saying even with his limited Afghan skills.
-Elham, my boy. You fool! What are you doing? This man may be with the white soldiers, but he has not hurt anyone. No! This man worked without rest to save your sister and two others after those you call friends made your sister, Sadia, to get hurt in the first place. This man is a good man. This man is a doctor. Is this how you show your gratefulness, Elham? Is this how your mother brought you up? The old woman scolded the boy.
From how she talked to him, John realized that he had to her grandson, who was rumored to have left the village to join the Taliban guerillas residing on the nearby mountains.
The boy probably didn´t have high opinion on anyone Western and hearing a story about a white man who pulled out a knife in front of his dying little sister and cut her with it, had sent him to rage. Probably the shocked villagers had forgotten to mention that the girl had already been gravely injured in an accident ( The Talibans had tried to smuggle explosives in villagers food carriages). And that he had operated on her purely to save the poor girl´s life. Quite ironically, the difficult operation had been successful. Out of his good will, John had used his two weeks holiday in the village to ensure that she and two other´s who had been injured in the same accident would recuperate well.
The fiery young man listened quietly his grandmother. He hesitated and pulled the riffle up to put it away. Then John saw a flash of light from the edge of the village, where the terrain turned to wild and low and shaggy looking bushes began to defíne the landscape. They heard a loud bang. Next the young man fell forward towards him, a gaping hole in the back of his skull. Villagers began to scream and fled in different directions like a scattered flock of geese. Before John could react in any way there was another gunshot. This time he was the one to hit the ground.
-...Watson! Captain Watson! He heard someone calling his name like through thick mist.
He batted his heavy eyelids and tried to focus his eyes. It was Bill Murray with his red hair, blue eyes and freckled face. The boy was still wet behind ears. He had worked as his assistant doctor for the last couple of months and had even volunteered to join him in the village. The boy idolized him. Usually, young Murray was almost annoyingly enthusiastic, but now his laughing eyes were filled with horror and worry. John almost felt sorry for the boy.
-H-How bad is it, Billy? He asked with a shattering voice. Murray swallowed a sniffle. He tried to look brave, but couldn´t get the words out of his mouth. God knows how many times, John had told him, that a doctor needed to stay calm no matter, how bad the injury looked, or the patient would panic. Oh god. He should have told him not to bother even try if the patient was a doctor too.
He was wrenched in his own blood. From the unhealthy coldness that had taken over him, he knew that it wouldn´t take too long for him to go to shock from the blood loss. Even if he could assume that someone had send the word to the troops and they were coming, at this rate it would be too late. There weren´t any other medical personnel here except him and Murray. And Murray was young, inexperienced and clearly terrified.
-M-Murray, John whispered with hoarse voice. -I´m dying from the blood loss. You have to do something to it before it´s too late.
The boy just shook his head miserably, but John took his hand to his own bloody fingers and looked to his eyes and nodded encouragingly.
-It´s big caliber. The shot went through your right shoulder. We don´t have the equipment for that. I can´t do that, John. I´m sorry, the boy cried.
John wanted to hit him hard.
-B-burn it, if you have to. It will buy us time.
Murray paled.
-I-I can´t. You haven´t seen it. If I burn the wound, there is no way you would recover without any lasting damage. You could lose the function of your right hand, captain! And the risk for infection is even greater.
-DAMN IT! John yelled in pain and frustration. -You are a doctor, Murray. My assistant doctor, young and recently graduated, but you should know what is most important. Am I not dead, if you don´t do it? Tell me truthfully!
Murray cast his eyes down.
-You are, he mumbled and John could see tears falling from his eyes as he admitted it.
-Then... Get on working with it, John panted.
After that he might have lost his consciousness for a while. Next thing he remembered was that Murray had some raging hot steel rods next to him. They glowed in red. The lad still looked unsure of what to do.
-You can... do it, Bill.
-But what if...
-It... doesn´t matter. I know you will do your best. I-if I don´t make it, ...it´s my time to go.
But I want to live, John thought to himself. Oh god, how much he wanted to live. He had never before felt it as strongly as now, when he really facing the death.
After that thought John lost his consciousness again.
Soon, excruciating pain from beaming steel made him scream even though he wasn´t coherent enough anymore to know, what was going on and why. In fever and pain, he thought, that the Talibans had gotten him and were torturing him. When the unconsciousness came to him, it was a blessing.
/
When he finally woke up, John was told that the military helicopter had picked him up and delivered him to the nearest field hospital, where doctors had operated on him for the whole night and miraculously ended up saving his life. Then he had been moved to a bigger hospital (again by chopper) in Kabul, where he now woke up. His wound had become infected and he had been in life threatening condition. Doctors had pumped him full of all kinds of medication. He was later told that his heart rate had fallen dangerously couple of times, but in the end he had pulled through it.
As soon as his over all condition would allow it, they planned to move him to UK into another hospital where he could begin his long rehabilitation. It was going to be difficult and it would take time, he was told. And even if he worked hard and got back most of the functions in his right arm, it would never be as precise as before. He would never be able to return to his old job in RAMC as a trauma surgeon.
His army colleagues had visited him at the hospital, when they had days of. There was even a slightly awkward but heart warming meeting with young Murray. The lad had ended up crying. He had told John that the doctor that had replaced him in RAMC was infuriatingly full of himself and patients didn´t like him much. According to him they kept asking for the "Three Continents Watson", wanting to hear of his latest adventures with women. John had comforted the lad and told him that he would get used to the new doctor in no time and so would the patients. The days would get so busy that no-one would have time to miss him. Murray had assured that it would not be the case, at least not with him. John sensed his sincerity and was touched by his words. He knew well, that in the war he had become some kind of a father figure or older brother to the boy. Murray had become very dear to him too.
John would always remember that evening In the Afghan setting sun painted the white walls of his simple room in red and orange. They had sworn to see each other during the longer holidays even after John´s return to UK.
/
During the next weeks John was steadily getting better. Murray visited him as often as possible. John had to actually remind the boy to get some rest at times. Then one time, when he was waiting for a visit, the boy didn´t arrive. Instead of him a gloomy looking major sat heavily on the stool next to his bed.
-Your assistant doctor, Bill Murray, has passed away today, John. I asked to be the one to tell you. We all thought that you should be told personally. As I am your oldest friend, I took the responsibility, the stolid man stated in heavy voice.
Major Sholto looked John into eyes. John knew that the man found it very uncomfortable. When they had become friends, they had agreed that, when there were just the two of them Sholto didn´t need to do that. John wouldn´t mind. But now major Sholto looked at him great sorrow visible in his eyes and there was nothing John could say to him. The major patted his shoulder gently.
-How did it happen? John managed to whisper finally.
/
Next night, he didn´t see nightmares of getting shot. No, this time he wasn´t in the village, but on the road once again.
They were moving to another base in military jeeps. Men had their guns ready to scare the possible attackers off and to be ready if something happened. They knew the rule of constant vigilance, but nothing had happened for a long while and warm afternoon made them drowsy and lazy.
It was hot as hell. The sun burned John´s eyes, like it almost always did. Stubborn flies buzzed around. An old man was herding his goats on the roadside, singing with a voice that reminded that of a goat too. There wasn´t a single cloud on the blue sky.
The calm afternoon was cut only by a small cracking sound as the first jeep drove over something. Immediately afterwards an incredibly loud explosion ripped the ear drums. The shock wave hit the nearest jeeps swaying them of from the road. The first car was burning.
Murray, who sat next to him, was hastily pulling off his safety belt with one hand and reaching for the first aid kid with the other hand. He was determined to go for the burning jeep and do his job in trying to save the passengers or what was left of them.
John tried to grab a hold of his sleeve. He knew, how easily young men forgot to look after their own safety. His hand however grabbed only air and Murray was already out of the car. He hurried after him.
"Look first for anything that could indicate danger, Murray. There might be more explosives or there might be sharp shooters hiding nearby", he advised just like he normally would have in such a situation, but the boy barely looked around. Murray heard one of the passengers scream in pain from the burning car and rushed over to help him. John tried to yell after him, but it the young man didn´t even hear him.
Maybe Murray actually triggered another bomb that the first explosion hadn´t outdone. Or maybe it was just the burning jeep that exploded, but the other soldiers had only time to shout their warnings before the second explosion.
After they were sure, that it was safe to go there, the looked for the young doctor. They found him next to the car. The bottom half of his body was gone and the expression on his face was that of surprise.
John woke up trembling and crying. His body was covered in cold sweat. His heart rate had been so fast that the machines had informed a nurse. The image of Murray´s mutilated body was so vivid that he kept caging. John cursed his profession, which ensured that he had enough information to imagine it accurately.
After he had calmed down a little, the nurse brought him some relaxants. On the next day they were supposed to move him to UK for rehabilitation.