2010
'No no no no no no no no this can't be happening this is impossible' The never ending stream of panic washed through Sherlock's mind as he raced to Afghanistan, heading for a camp that he knew well. 'No nononononononONONO!'
John Watson had been shot. John Watson had been unprotected because Sherlock had been in a meeting with Mycroft and Greg, and he had been shot and he had no one to blame but himself. The logical part of his mind told him that he wasn't to blame, but he couldn't think right now.
Gunshots echoed through the camp, and Sherlock could see the glowing from fallen men and women, but he had eyes for only one body.
John Watson lay near the medical tent, his shoulder bleeding profusely. The man that he had been helping was alive, but unconscious, most likely due to John's mysterious abilities. But John…his soul was beginning to show, the glow seeming brighter than the rest. Sherlock bent down, placing black gloved hands on his chest, willing his soul to re-enter his body.
"Please, you cannot die." Sherlock said, his throat constricting rather suddenly. He hadn't realised just how important John had become to him. "You have to live, John."
John continued to glow, and the instinct to pull his soul from his body began to take over, consuming his mind. His breathing was steady, and Sherlock watched the rise and fall of his chest, pulling off the glove of his right hand and placing it on John's chest.
Nothing happened. Sherlock stared at his pale hand that spread across the army fatigues in surprise. The glow continued to hover around John's body, but it would not budge. Sherlock sucked in a breath, staring down at him in wonder. If he could not pull his soul out, maybe he could push it.
The glow began to recede as Sherlock willed it back into John's body, and Sherlock let out a cry of relief. The wound on his shoulder was still bleeding, but John wasn't in any danger of dying. Sherlock continued to push, jumping when a hand clasped his.
It was John, his tan skin a stark contrast for Sherlock's. It gripped his wrist, as if he had gone to throw Sherlock's hand off, but stopped mid-movement. Sherlock stared at the hand before looking up, gasping audibly when dark blue met silver.
"Hello there." John said, watching Sherlock warily. "What on earth are you doing?"
"You can see me?" Sherlock blurted out, feeling rather unintelligent about the whole ordeal. Instead of impressing the solider with his brains, he was saying whatever nonsense came to mind.
"Of course…who are you?" John asked, tightening his grip ever so slightly when Sherlock made to pull away. "I've never seen you before."
"Of course you have." Sherlock lied.
"No I haven't." John looked amused, struggling to sit up. Sherlock stopped him, putting a hand on his unwounded shoulder. "I would remember a face like yours."
"It's unimportant." Sherlock dismissed his inquiry. "What matters is that you're alive."
"I'm-" John asked, wincing as he patted his shoulder. He pulled a hand away, looking at the blood. "I was shot."
"Yes." Sherlock nodded. "But you will get better. You will be invalided, and sent home to London."
"How did you-"
"Live, John Watson." Sherlock interrupted, freeing his arm from John's clutches. "Live your life, be happy and healthy."
"What is your name?" John asked quickly, watching Sherlock stand.
"That is for another time." Sherlock smiled sadly. "We shall meet again, John, but not for a long time. Go home, and rest. You deserve it."
With his parting words, Sherlock vanished. If he had asked anyone what happened after he left, he would have been told of how John Watson looked for him, asked every officer if they had seen the pale man in the long coat. They would have explained how John tried to find him, even as they dragged him in for surgery; how, as the weeks dragged by, John convinced himself that he imagined the handsome man in the desert.
Maybe, then, John would never have done something so drastic.
A/N: Today (August 31st) is my birthday, and, instead of me getting gifts, I give them to you (in fanfic updates)! Hopefully I'll finish this fic out before year's end, so this cliff hanger won't be as terrible as the past few. Love you all so much, and happy birthday me!
Robottko