Although he is loathe to do it, desperate times call for desperate measures and for Sherlock, keeping his soldier, his anchor in his life is a desperate enough situation that he places a call to his mortal enemy: Mycroft. After getting him to pull some strings, Sherlock waits to give the doctor a little bit of a surprise.

~oOo~

"Captain Watson, sir?" A young officer says as he enters the tent, one that is an administrative type more than a soldier, and who works for the commander of the camp, looking around for the man in question.

Having just been finishing cleaning his hands, John turns, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and wiping down his hands and arms with a cloth to dry them. "Yes, that's me, what can I do for you?" He asks as he looks at the younger man. He knows he must look tired, and he has been a bit quieter the last week or so.

"Um, you have a phone call in the Commander's tent, sir." The young officer says before standing aside and waiting to lead/escort John there.

With a sinking feeling, John nods and turns to follow the younger man, wondering who would be able to call him and hoping that it has nothing to do with Harry. While he and his sister might not get on, that does not mean he wants her to be hurt. When they finally get to the tent, the commander gives him a curious but not entirely happy look before pointing him inside the tent.

Ducking past the flaps, John walks over to where the phone is sitting off its receiver, picking it up slowly while he takes a deep breath to brace himself for what he may be about to hear. "This is Captain Watson speaking." Glad that his tone comes out firm and steady despite how he's feeling, what he hears still almost sends him to the floor in surprise.

"It's about time, it seems either you are harder to find than anticipated, or the foo, sent to find you does not know the meaning of the words urgent or hustle, and likely will die if there is any sort of attack." Sherlock's tone is frustrated but relieved at the same time. "Hello, John." He adds after a moment of silence.

"Sherlock." John says in disbelief, and the his anger boils up. "Where the bloody hell have you been!? I wrote, I called, and nothing. Not a bloody peep from you in two and a half months! Where have you been, and what happened, you incredible prat?!" He is a little out of breath by the end but he feels better, even if he did get a bit louder than he intended.

"My apologies, John. After I received your first letter, I left for a case in America, and did not think to reply before I left, or fske it with me. I was in Florida to be precise, and I lost my phone in the Everglades. It was actually a very interesting case, but my lack of reply had nothing to do with not wanting to write to you, or my drug habit, but there were drugs involved unfortunately. You underestimate your importance in my life, and I am looking forward to meeting you in person as well." Sherlock says in a casually dismissive tone which he hopes successfully hides the depth of his true feelings.

"Florida." The doctor says in disbelief.

"Yes, doctor. Florida. I loathe repeating myself, is your hearing going in your old age? You have quite a temper, John, you should be careful." Sherlock says in exasperation, having been a little surprised by John's outburst of anger.

"Right. Of course." John says before he sighs and scrubs one hand over his face, letting his anger fade and his relief wash over him. "Bloody hell, I'm glad you're ok. I have been going insane trying to figure out what might have happened." He pauses as something else occured to him. "How are you even calling me?"

When Sherlock replies, he is clearly reluctant. "I pulled in a favor with Mycroft." He says shortly, before he sighs and decides to elaborate, "I did not want to risk losing your friendship because of my oversight. I will be more diligent in the future."

After closing his eyes for a moment, John laughs lightly and smile, "You had better, or next time I might go AWOL just to find you, you arse." He tries to maintain a scolding tone but once again it comes out sounding more affectionate. "Go on, then. Tell me about this important, fascinating case of yours."

More relieved than he lets on, Sherlock sits down in his leather chair to get more comfortable. "A rather interesting case to be sure. My client was a one Mrs. Hudson, a lovely English lady who had been dragged to Florida by her husband who it turns out was a bit abusive among other things. He was also a bit of a gang or mafia boss it turns out. He was arrested for drug trafficking charges, but with my help, human trafficking and murder charges were added, with irrefutable evidence that ensured he would get the death penalty. It also allowed Mrs. Hudson to plan to move back to some property they own here in London. The trial is merely a formality now, there is no way to look at the plethora of evidence without believing the man to be guilty." Sherlock concludes confidently, a smirk as well as pride evidenced in his tone.

"Amazing. Absolutely amazing. Only you could find connections like that, I am sure, but also know the American legal system well enough to not contaminate evidence or otherwise screw it up." John says in slight awe as he considers everything that Sherlock went through. "What was it like? In Florida, I mean? Fair sight warmer than London, I imagine."

"Yes, much warmer, quite humid, and with frequent thunderstorms in the evenings. I initially got a bit of a sunburn, but it's faded now. Also, I discovered that both for evidentiary purposes and personally, I dislike swamps. Too many insects who are designed to make your existence miserable." The last bit is grumbled a little in a slightly petulant tone, but it seems Sherlock is content to continue this conversation indefinitely.

While John would like that, he knows this has to be expensive for Sherlock, and that he both has to get back to work and his commander will not be happy if be talks too long. "Thank you for calling, Sherlock, but I was in the middle of my shift, I'm going to have to get off here, it is my base commander's satellite phone afterall."

Frustrated but accepting of it, Sherlock just sighs and nods. "Very well. I will reply to your letters today and put them in the post tomorrow. I hope you will be well."

"Thanks, Sherlock, I'll look forward to it." John says before he pauses awkwardly, "Ta." He adds before hanging up.

~oOo~

Later that night, John lays in his bed staring at the sketches and such that he got from Sherlock, smiling a little as he thinks about the younger man, and how relieved he was to hear his voice, even if he had to endure an interrogation, practically, when he exited the tent. But it's not anything that Three Continents Watson hasn't had to deal with before. That thought causes John to chuckle silently, stretch languidly, then settle down to sleep and dream pleasant dreams.

I almost forgot to post this today! I hope you all enjoy, I like this chapter, just because Sherlock is a little different from John's influence and I like that. I hope you all enjoy it as well!

Reviews/Comments welcome!