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Chapter 6

The sergeant took in the group in front of him, three male, and one female. He snorted, 'As if they allow a woman into the field" he muttered under his breath, coming to a stop as Stone climbed back into the car and left them staring at him. He didn't bother to acknowledge them. It wasn't like there was anyone else here for them to meet.

Drill Sergeant Scout Trott would never have volunteered for a mission like this. In two weeks he was meant to create a commando; that would normally take a year and half. He recalled the files he read as, after seeming to discuss what their options were, not many he thought to himself, they started to walk towards him.

One of them, Scout's electric blue eyes searched before he latched onto John, taking in his stance, the way he seemed to lead the others forward, was an ex-army medic. A major. Scout almost grinned. He would get to order a major around. Now that was not something he could do everyday. He turned his attention to the tallest of the lot. Curly black hair falling gently over steel grey eyes, the only one who was staring right back at him. Consulting detective, he thought, smart, arrogant and in love with the major…what's his name…John Watson. Scout turned his attention to the female. Good figure, seemingly in shape, comfortable with all he guys…worked with them before, then, Scout turned to the last of the group. The man was talking more than the others, but there was something in his eyes, Sadness, Scout thought. He'd seen that look in his men, after they'd just lost their best friend on the battlefield; File said he lost his wife three days ago. Bloody Government, He kept the customary scowl that he liked to associate with their government and their stupid decisions, off his face. He didn't believe that anyone was ready for active duty after a loss like that.

Finally, the group stopped in front of the drill sergeant, and for a split second, they took each other in, the group noting the ebony black hair in it's crew cut, the cold blue eyes, the tanned skin and the bulging muscles, "Drill Sergeant Trott,' he said, extending his hand for anyone to take and was not surprised when the doctor took it first,

'Major John Watson," John held his hand out, respect in his eyes and a smile on his face. Thirty seconds and Scout already liked the doctor, damn; there goes my plans for ordering him around,

"Nice to meet you, Doctor," he said, shaking the man's hand.

"DI Greg Lestrade," Lestrade shook the Sergeant's hand,

"Police?" Scout asked, smiling slightly and Greg smiled,

"Yeah, transferred," he said and again, Scout picked up the sadness, lingering in his eyes. He turned to Sally, "Police Sergeant Sally Donovan," she said, grasping his hand. He nodded,

'Nice to meet you," he replied, his tone crisper than what he used with the others and Sally exchanged a glance with John who shrugged slightly, Give him some time, it seemed to say and she nodded slightly. Lastly, Scout turned to Sherlock, "Sherlock Holmes," the detective extended his hand and Scout took it,

"I've heard a lot about you," he said, as a cold wind whipped around them and brought the sounds of a waking city with it.

'I'm sure you have," Sherlock smiled slightly, and Scout nodded, breaking the handshake and turning towards their boat, "That, is the Blood gold," he said and John almost dropped the bag he was holding,

"Wait," he said, the fact that he didn't know this man and didn't want to be here, forgotten, as excitement coursed through him,

"Are we talking about the Bloodgood?" The doctor asked and Sherlock raised an eyebrow,

'That is what he said John, have you lost the sense of hearing?" John ignored him, making Sherlock wonder whether the doctor had indeed gone deaf, as he stared, incredulous at the sergeant,

"You heard me, Major," The Sergeant smiled and John shook his head,

'It's just a boat, John," Sherlock said, walking forward and leading the others towards it. The soldiers almost stopped walking,

'Just a boat?" Asked John,

"Well, what's so special about it?" asked Sally asked, as they walked along,

'It's the boat that saved the SAS strike team," John answered and joined the sergeant up the front, walking side by side, making the others feel like they were really out of their depth this time.

Approaching the boat, their shoes thudding on the wooden boards below, John threw his bags onboard as soon as he was within range and, reaching up for the rail, pulled himself up with about as much effort as Sherlock would need to solve a triple homicide, and was quickly followed by the Sergeant. The others stood and stared as the men righted themselves and turned back to look at the others, staring at the three metres between them and the deck of the Bloodgold.

'What are you waiting for?" John asked. It didn't take the deductive powers of Sherlock to see that even though John didn't choose to be here, this was his element. This wasn't a crime scene that Sherlock took over and worked around, leaving John as his aide and this wasn't Scotland Yard, where the DI and his sergeant were known and welcomed, meaning John was an outsider. This was John's world, and as he stood next to the uniformed drill sergeant, it became pretty apparent that there really was nowhere else that John belonged. He grinned down at them,

'What?' he asked, chuckling, "Don't tell me you need a gangplank to get on," John looked at the sergeant,

'We just…pull ourselves aboard?" Sally asked,

'Yeah," the soldiers chorused,

'It's taller than we are,"

"If I can do it, so can you," John picked his bags up, smiling broadly,

"I'll get the engine started," Scout said, turning around and John chuckled,
"I'll help," The two of them left the side of the boat, and disappeared into the belly of the craft and the other three just kept standing on the docks,

"Is this a sign?" Sally finally asked,

"Don't believe in them" Sherlock replied, slightly shocked and incredibly turned on by John's behaviour. He liked soldier John,

'Depends on what kind of a sign this is," Lestrade asked, as the boat's engine turned over and it bobbed a bit more in the water. There was a burst of laughter from inside as the engine revved. For a drill sergeant, he was getting along awfully well with John, supposedly his subordinate,

"This is a sign that means we are in for it," Sally said, "and the only one who will come out of this one in one piece is going to be John," as if his name brought him forward, John moved to the edge of the boat and looked down at them, and their jaws hit the ground.

In the time they had been standing there, he had changed. And was in uniform, the khaki lighting up his already glowing eyes, complete with beret on head and gun in his thigh holster, 'Are you coming or not?" he asked, before turning and climbing the stairs up to the bridge with easy steps,

"Well," Sherlock swallowed and walked forward, throwing his bags over the rails, 'it's all or nothing," he said, before hauling himself up, waiting before being joined by the others, as the anchor lifted, and the boat moved away from the dock.

The boat cut across the open waters of the Atlantic with ease, the bow tearing the blue ocean apart, as the sun lit the sky, reflecting off the waters, and as the clouds scattered for the first time in days. Sherlock, Sally and Greg were still in the hold, acquainting themselves with their new transport craft, and John was with Scout, both of them occupying the two chairs on the bridge, of the captain and the executive officer.

'That's beautiful," John said, shifting slightly. It felt so incredibly strange to be wearing the uniform, and, this time, to be wearing the uniform with Sherlock by his side. It was a comforting thought,

'It is," said Scout, the young man observing his senior, "Sir?" he asked and John turned his head, his eyebrows rising in surprise,

'Sir?" he repeated, amusement in his tone as he realised just how young the man next to him was. Scout looked straight ahead, 'I can't order you around," he said, speaking to the ocean, more than John,

"Why not?" John asked, keeping him voice neutral, 'you'll be the one training me," he added, more as a prompt than because he needed to state the obvious.

'But you've…you've served," he said, turning back to John, 'You've fought and lived to tell the tale, you've saved people's lives" there was a new light in his eyes and John recognised it – it was the light of someone who wanted the supposed glory that came with the fight. They wanted the experience, and they wanted the tales to tell,

'I haven't always been able to save lives," John said quietly, looking away from Scout, as his eyes grew curious. There was silence for a while and Scout was about to change the subject when John continued. He didn't know why he felt the need to do so. He hadn't even spoken to Sherlock about this yet, "I've taken more lives than I've saved," he added softly. He turned to face Scout, "And I suffer, nearly every night," every night if Sherlock's not there, he paused, waiting for the words to sink in, 'for what I have done,"

Silence fell again, and John sighed. This was far too depressing for such a beautiful view,

"How did you get the drill sergeant position?" John asked, rather than going the direct route and asking how old he was. Scout blushed slightly,

"I aced all my written tests, and my physical training. They were going to deploy me to Iraq," he looked at John this time, "Then they realised someone like me could easily control a group of new recruits, unable to even handle a gun," He grinned, "It's a nice feeling when you see them, on graduation day," he said and John chuckled,

"Yeah," he smiled at Scout, "Does this mean you're going to order the others around?" he asked and Scout chuckled,

"Yes sir," he said, and John laughed, putting his feet up, the regulation army boots blacker than the night they had just woken up from.

When Scout and John left the boat on autopilot, fifteen minutes later, their course already selected for them, and went into the hold, they found the DI and Sally locked in a game of what looked to be hold 'em poker and Sherlock with a panel of the wall missing, staring at the wires inside,

"Ten hut!" Scout called and the DI and Sally jumped to their feet, whereas Sherlock stayed exactly where he was. Scout walked in, his iron face on,

'Holmes!" he yelled and Sherlock turned, an insolent expression on his face, 'didn't you hear the order?" Scout asked, as behind, John fought to hide the smile that was growing,

'What order?" Sherlock asked and was greatly surprised when Scout dragged him to his feet,

'When a senior officer walks onto the deck, you get to your feet," he said, the ice blue eyes boring into Sherlock's, 'is that clear?" From behind him, he heard Sally and Lestrade's chuckles and rounded on them, dropping Sherlock like a sack of potatoes,
"You think this is funny?" he asked, not yelling, keeping his voice at the perfect tone. The smiles disappeared completely and John found a new respect for the man. He was bloody terrifying if you didn't know him,

'No," Lestrade said, trying not to look into those eyes and failing quite miserably. Scout walked away from them and to John's side,

"You're a lazy bunch of operatives," he said, looking at them, but not addressing John, "and I will make SIS agents of you yet," he said, holding each of their gazes, Sally and Greg's shocked, Sherlock's irritated and insolent.

The corner of his mouth turned up as the boat changed route just a bit, and silence filled the air, "I'm sure the there of you won't mind cleaning the bathrooms," He added, nodding towards the closed door to their right,

'What about John?" Greg asked and Scout raised both his eyebrows.

"John?" he asked, glancing back at the doctor, who looked rather amused by the whole situation. The expression disappeared as the sergeant's gaze fell on him, before flicking back to the others,

"You will address the major as his title," he said, "He is your senior, and will be treated as such. Now, MOVE!" All three of them got to their feet and hurried to the bathroom,

"With me, major," he said, and left the room. As soon as he was on decks, the others turned to face John, who looked at them with trepidation,

'What happened to 'we're all equals?'" Sally asked, and John shook his head, not knowing what to say. Sherlock leant against the door and stared at his lover.

Far from being irritated at this turn of events, he was overjoyed. There were so many different ways he could annoy their new commanding officer, and he just couldn't wait to get started. His gaze flicked to the panel in the wall and John followed it,

"Sherlock," he warned, knowing that Sherlock was going to find a way to delay their assignment as much as possible, and the detective chuckled,

"Don't worry, Major," he said, 'we'll cooperate," Lestrade and Sally gaped at him, "Run along now," Sherlock said, crossing his arms, his long, lean frame stretching out as he crossed one leg over the other, 'We'll be the perfect recruits," John shook his head and turned around and Greg and Sally rounded on Sherlock.

Climbing the stairs, the voices of his companions floating up to him, John stopped on the decks and stared at the water. As the wind washed over John, and the smell of the sea reached him, John knew that Scout was in for a rough ride – and he was not choosing sides on this one. He grinned. Finally, a war in which he had a damn choice. Concealing the spreading grin and the freedom that ran through his blood and sang in his ears, John took the steps upwards two at a time.

When Sherlock decides he's going to do something, he certainly does. :D

Ah, yes…

Aza

xoxo