Not sure what to reply to Sherlock, John doesn't send his reply for over a week, and when he does it's after an actual mission outside the base, it being his rotation to go out with a group that needed a medical officer. But this time wasn't like the others, and when John finally gets back to base, after stripping off his gear and showering, the first thing he does - the first thing he wants to do - is to write to Sherlock, to talk to him in the only way he has available to him at the moment. So he sits on the floor, arm resting on his foot locker and using it as a desk, his back to the wall, pretty much sitting in the corner of his room away from the others.

~oOo~

Dear Sherlock,

I cannot tell you the things that I've seen today. I'm still processing everything. A unit went out, needing a medical officer and I was up on the rotation. Not anything unusual, not anything I haven't done before. There was the possibility of some hostages, so I was prepared. I thought I was.

Everything is still processing, I think I went into a state of shock. In medical school, we're trained to compartmentalize. Same with the military. To be able to push back our emotional reactions and focus at the task at hand in order to get through the most horrible things any student could imagine. Sometimes you have to do what you have to do, and deal with everything else later. I've never really had to use that, except this time. This time.. you cannot imagine.

We went to a village where we were told that the hostages were being kept, but when we got there.. there was so much blood, it's like nothing I had seen before. Some of the people looked like Swiss cheese, but there was also evidence of at least one bomb going off. We were all in shock. Only a handful of people survived, and of those, the people who will live through the night is even smaller. There were children, Sherlock. Children, women, elderly. We're not sure who it was, but the entire village was killed. Even babies, that was the most heartbreaking part.

I don't even remember much after that, I just switched a part of me off, and now it's all coming back and I'm not sure if I can deal with it. And I can't really talk to anyone here about it, because how do you explain it, how do you convey how heartbreaking it was, what a sense of horror you felt. Of course, I'm not sure you would understand either. You would probably have found it fascinating, but I think even you, with your scientific mind and interest in anatomy and criminology, would agree with us plebeians about the.. massacre.

Things like this make me wonder about people, humanity as a whole. We're not good. I see things like this and lose my hope for the future. Is it going to keep going like this, just war and death and pain? Sometimes I wonder. I used to think that I was out here for a good reason, fighting to keep people free, but days like today I wish I could get out. Just leave this all behind, but the only thing that I know how to do is be a doctor and a soldier. Neither of which I could ever totally leave behind.

What I need right now is to get blind drunk so I can pass out. Unfortunately alcohol is a little hard to come by around here, so I suppose I'll just have to try it the hard way. Force myself to sleep. And if that fails, then I guess I'm going to have to use a sleeping pill. I can't afford to have sleeping problems right now.

I'm sorry to unload all of this on you, I just needed to put it down and when I got back, the first thing I thought of was that I just wanted to write you. Maybe I thought you would understand or sympathize or something like that. Unlikely as it may seem. I just needed to talk to someone about it, and you are the first person that came to mind. When did that happen?

I'm going to try and get some rest now, I hope you've been well. Goodnight.

Sincerely,

John

~oOo~

Sherlock gets the letter and is rather shocked by the intensity of it and the force of his concern for his pen pal friend. His immediate thought is to call Mycroft and pull in another favor to get the phone call to John, but he doesn't want to be any more indebted to his elder brother than he already is, so instead he calls someone else to help him pick out something that will help him further his relationship with John, but also be able to tell more about his friend, to make sure that the detective can't be lied to.

Angst. Yeah, there's not much more I can say about this other than.. I was in a mood. Hope you enjoy it!

EDIT: There's some confusion about the last line, it's referring to what Sherlock is plotting to do for the next chapter. :) So it will probably make more sense then.

Reviews/Comments welcome.