CHAPTER 26. words

The armed MPs at the door laughed easily as the Sergeant continued to tell another story about the man they were guarding.

"And then, he stands up pissed as all hell. He says I believe you owe the Private there an apology. Besides you should pick on someone your own size. Anyway he is what 5'7 and these navy men, oh did I mention they were American. Anyway so he moves away from our table. The first one actually laughed. He made the mistake of saying something about the Captain's height. Something along the lines of 'funsize'. Next thing you know, the bloke is passed out cold and his friend was so stunned. He's just standing there like a great big idiot before he lunged at Captain Watson who put him in a headlock. You don't want to wrestle with the man he's solid and slippery as all hell. And he has fists like bricks.

Of course their friends start in but we were there for back up. When it was over. The sailors are all tore up, we're all tore up. Bloody noses on both sides, cracked heads, broken tables. It was a mess. But Captain Watson, he walks back to the table. Pulls it upright sits down and picks his still full bottle of beer off the floor, it had only spilled a bit. He then finishes it. Cheeky bastard even ordered another round. Of course by that time you lot are showing up, the American's picked up their mates and were heading out the back door with the rest of us. The captain still had his beer in his hand. On his way out, he shouted to the American's. Hey mate! No worries his hand will be fine put some ice on it. But I can't say much for his face, looks like an improvement. Trust me I'm a Doctor." They could only shout insult while they headed back to their ship. " Sergeant Porter was laughing so hard he didn't notice the tall dark haired bloke in a suit approach.

Sherlock paused he could see Mycroft's men laughing with some soldier in a dress uniform. A sergeant by the stripes, other than that Sherlock didn't have a clue as to who he was. And why he was distracting the two men. He could care less other than the fact that they were blocking his way in to see John, he stepped around them going in.

"Wait is that the Captain's Doc, he looks like a posh-"

"No that's Mr. Holmes' younger brother." The ginger MP replied.

"Holmes?" The sergeant said the name, he wondered why it sounded familiar, he didn't have time for anything else when the door to the room opened and the younger Holmes exited quickly, a very stern Lt. Major close on his heels.

The sergeant knew that look all too well, and he bravely tried to step between the two men.

"Now, Lt. Major, calm down-" Carter pushed Porter aside easily.

"Alright, now that we are both out in hall. Who the hell-" Sherlock didn't get to finish before a hard fist sent him reeling.

"Stay away from him." A dark command.

"Lt. Major Carter! I would advice you to stand down." Mycroft Holmes growled.

Carter ignored the older Holmes; he only crouched down next to the younger Holmes. "It's your fault! But don't worry like usual I'll clean it up." It was a cold sneer, one that Sergeant Porter had never heard from the Lt. Major, " Sergeant don't let me interrupt your visit. I'll meet you at the briefing."

"Piss off!" Sherlock stood up glaring a hand to his face, ignoring all sanity. The young Sergeant pushed his friend back nervously seeing the MP's moving in.

"Woah there Lt. Major. Mr. Holmes. Captain wouldn't like this kind of fuss. You know how he is. You make a scene and he's likely to kill us both." Lt. Major Carter pulled away, and Porter smiled nervously at the MP's. "It's alright guys. No worries here. You know us army boys. A bit roudy."

"If you're quite done Lt. Major Carter." Mycroft snapped irritably.

Carter just tugged on the bottom of his uniform and left without another word.

Porter frowned turning back to the bloke in the dark suit, he really needed a haircut, ouch his cheek would bruise most certainly.

"You alright there sir? Yeah, he's got a nasty right hook, think he might have held back a bit or you'd be unconscious. Oh, names Sergeant Porter, Ryan Porter." Sherlock was caught up in a whirlwind as the younger soldier just took his hand shook it quickly. " If you don't mind I was just stopping in to check on the Captain. Brought his lucky deck of cards, if he would have had them on him I suppose this wouldn't have happened. Oh and this."

The sergeant held up a a rectangular package wrapped in brown paper, obviously a picture. The man shrugged, excused himself and headed into the room. He unwrapped the picture, it was dumb but the guys back at base had signed it and Ryan promised to deliver it. He placed it next to the flowers, laying the deck of cards under it. It was just a picture collage made up with photographs from their times on base and out in the field.

"It's a good a spot as any I think." Porter said turning to the man in the suit. He wasn't one to pry. Lt. Major wasn't temperamental if he punched this bloke, then he deserved it. Speaking kindly in John's direction, still unable to look directily at him. He stood straight. "Captain you get better. I'm sure I'll be stopping in. If I'm not tangled up with some female, that is." He smiled then gave a quick salute. Passing a cute blonde on his way out, looks like the captain had a bit of a fan club. No surprise there, he was always getting the cute birds. It wasn't even fair, because the man was more into blokes, the least he could do was throw a few fit ladies to his single friends.

~0~

Harry didn't recognize the John in these pictures; he was a stranger to her. His face was different from how she would always remember him. Those eyes were hard to see under the shade of his hat. He was smiling easily leaning against a tank. He was a Doctor what was he doing holding a weapon, and in some of the picture's he had a serious look on his face. Someone captured the picture of a different version of her brother, one in fatigues; it was John but not John.

He was pointing at a map, his eyes narrowed he looked unmoved. As if he was making a decision and he refused to be swayed. Another had him in the dirt, his arm around another man's neck the two had been wrestling.

Her brother was not a fighter, but his knuckles said otherwise, didn't they. There were signatures and words of well wishes and some language that would make Clara blush. Of course nothing Harry hadn't heard before, let alone read. She had to smile at some of the choice names and comments. A warn deck of playing cards was sitting next to the picture. From what she could see of some of the photographs, John was a gambler. When did her brother learn to play poker?

She chanced a look at the unusually silent Sherlock, and her heart almost broke for him. He was staring at the roses and a card that read; Still here. Love. Always. Matt.