Hello again. I'm sick -_- and so I started writing.

:D

Chapter 13

Blood. Everywhere. On his hands, on his clothes, and he couldn't get it off him. He was a doctor for god's sake…John blinked as the scene changed…and he was back in his Afghanistan Operating Room. A young man…barely twenty lay in front of him. There was terror in his eyes as he stared at the doctor. John stood there, as he flat lined, and those expressive eyes glazed over. Everyone was yelling, pointing at him, as he stood there and the lad bled out on his operating table.

Bombs. Everywhere. John was running, the gun in his hands felt cold against his skin, huge, heavy. The ground was slipping away from him. Sand beneath him, just sliding away from underfoot. He screamed, he knew he screamed, but there was no sound. And suddenly, the cabin's roof was in front of him.

It blurred as tears formed in his eyes, as the fear blazed through him, along with adrenaline, forcing him to sit up, the warm air from the heating washing over him – right before the guilt crashed into the doctor. There were many soldiers that died in front of him, so, so many men...a sob wracked the doctor's body as the tears fell, the pain, the memories that he locked away, hid even from Sherlock, appeared again, forced their way out of that little box at the back of his mind. He knew the medical facts found him a faultless doctor – the men and women were already slipping away when they were brought to him, but he always felt he was to blame. He should've done something more, damn it! Another sob shook the doctor as he pulled his knees to his chest. He could've done something more. John drew in a shuddering breath and breathed out again, shaking, feeling a twinge in his shoulder and rolling it to release the stress. He glanced over at Sherlock to find him still asleep and was glad that he hadn't woken the detective. Taking in another deep breath, John lay back down, slowly, blinking away the tears and wiping his face, focusing just on breathing in and out. Despite loving the challenges that the army had brought, as the doctor attempted to get back to sleep, he knew that at night, there would be no rest for him, and there never would be, not when Sherlock wasn't there. His own personal nightmare cure.

The bell rang and echoed around the antique yet modern house as Lestrade channel surfed, amazed to found that over 300 channels were at his disposal. Lestrade, wondering who would be at his door at his time and in this whether, got to his feet and opened his door – to be greeted with the sight of Stone under an umbrella.

"Stone?"

"Sir," Stone corrected and Lestrade grinned,

"I can't even get Donovan to call me that any more," he said, a little disappointedly and Stone rolled his eyes, knowing that something like that quip would've come from the DI, 'Can I at least get out of the rain?" the director asked, and Lestrade stepped back to allow the man to enter.

Lestrade flicked on the hall light and turned to face the Director,

'So?" the DI asked,

"You'll be joining the others tonight," Stone said and Lestrade sighed,

"Why couldn't I go in the daytime?" asked Lestrade,

"Because, you were sleeping," Stone replied and Lestrade didn't even find it even remotely surprising that they were watching him. Thankfully, he hadn't done anything overly embarrassing.
"Right…do you have any extra clothes?" Lestrade asked, doubting that he would be allowed into the military base looking like they dragged him here from London,

"Ah yes," from underneath his trench coat, Stone produced a package that was pretty bulky and Lestrade wondered how he had manage to conceal it under there,

"Military fatigue," Stone said and Lestrade glanced at him,

"I'm going to the base?"

"No, you're going to Afghanistan," Stone said and Lestrade stared at the man,

"Yes!" Stone exclaimed, irritated, 'Yes you're going to the base," he pointed towards the bedroom, "Get changed now," he said and Lestrade followed the order.

The director walked into the lounge room shaking his head, why did no one get his sarcasm these days except for Matt? Stone smiled as the thought of the base commander. He had no idea that Matt had been based here. Last he heard his best friend was in Afghanistan. Obviously not. Stone took Lestrade's vacated seat and looked at the television.

By the time Lestrade had figured out how to get the uniform on – it was starched to the point that he was sure it would stand by itself, without him in it – Stone was engrossed in the program that was on. Lestrade rolled his eyes,

"Can we go now?' he asked, finding that he was going to miss this house,

"Yeah," Stone stood up and straightened his jacket flushing at being caught off guard by his sub-ordinate, "You'll be staying with Sherlock and John and the rest of your uniform is sitting underneath your bed,

'Are we with others?" Lestrade asked as he turned the TV off and flicked the lounge room light off, walking into the brightly lit hallway,

"No, it's just the three of you," Stone walked outside and waited for Lestrade to follow him, flicking that light off too and closing the door behind him. He handed the key to Stone and turned to look at the Director,

"Right, let's get going, shall we?"

As Lestrade got into the car, two kilometres from the base, inside the barracks, Sherlock was sitting up in his bed and staring at John, sleeping across from him. He had cursed when he woke up for some unexplained reason because he had meant to stay awake and creep over as soon as the doctor was asleep. Judging by how steady John's breathing was, Sherlock figured it must be around two o'clock in the morning. The doctor was well and truly asleep, so Sherlock knew this was going to be easy. Carefully, he got to his feet, as, two kilometres away, the engine of the Buick started up and revved before the car started to move forward. Sherlock padded to John's side of the room, careful not to brush against the pants that laid on the back of the chair, as the metal buckles would've made brushed against each other. Standing next to John's bed, the consulting detective wondered briefly whether or not John would kill him for this, before lifting the sheets and gently sliding in next to John.

The doctor moved slightly and Sherlock froze, but then strong arms wrapped around Sherlock's torso and the detective allowed a self-satisfied smirk to cross his lips and the doctor rested his head against Sherlock's shoulder. The detective was about to declare victory to himself when the sound of a car approaching outside made John shift and roll, bringing Sherlock on top of him, still strong, even while asleep. Sherlock froze, and as he did so, John woke up.

Outside the car door opened, slammed, and Stone and Lestrade greeted the commanding officer that awaited them. Together, they made their way towards the cabin, hoping that they didn't wake anyone else up. Inside, John stared in confusion at Sherlock as realization dawned on him, 'Sherlock!" he exclaimed, kicking the covers of them and sitting up as best he could, causing Sherlock to straddle his hips to stay on him. Before Sherlock could say anything smart, the front door opened, the light flickered on and Lestrade, Stone and their Base Commander walked in.

There was a moment of silence when John quickly assessed how this looked and what the chances of being taken away from Sherlock were. Damn the man, were the only words going through his head as he efficiently managed to stand up, ignore the startled look on Sherlock's face and slam him onto the ground – hard, "and that, Sherlock is how you accomplish a back-throw and pin to the ground – you do not, under any circumstances make sure your enemy lands on a soft surface."

Sherlock just stared up at the doctor in half astonishment and half irritation as his back smarted from the pressure, "Oh, hello Lestrade, Commander, Stone," John said, getting off Sherlock and standing to welcome them, well aware that he was not wearing any pants and grateful that army logistics had made sure that his shirt could've passed for a dress.

'Sir,' Stone automatically corrected, still frozen along with Lestrade and the commander at the rather odd – but thankfully not disturbing sight that greeted them on the floor. 'Major," Thornton started, finally forcing his muscles to move and take him out of the rain, "Why in heavens name are you practising tackling in the middle of the night?"
"Neither of us could sleep," John said, having clueless as to how he managed to keep so composed and dignified as he stood there without any pants on,

"Where the bloody hell are you pants?" Lestrade asked, his voice pitched slightly higher than normal and John glanced down as though he's just noticed they were missing,

"Over there," he said, pointed to the chair, "I escorted Cadet Donovan back to her cabin and got completely soaked in the process, naturally, I had no other pants and couldn't be bothered walking to the laundry to get another pair.

The three men in the room stared at the major and the detective – who was still on the floor as moving was painful (John felt a twinge of guilt, but it was the consulting detective's own fault), before all three of them just acted like this wasn't in any way strange. Stone shut the door and joined Lestrade and Thornton at the table,

'What are you doing here?' John asked, walking to the chair and pulling his pants off the back before Stone sat down on them. Lestrade blushed as he let his eyes travel the well-toned muscles of the doctor's legs before the still slightly damp pants covered them.

'We have a mission," Stone said and John's brow furrowed, offering a hand to Sherlock. The detective glared at the doctor for a moment, who raised his eyebrows infinitesimally before Sherlock gave up and took the hand. He couldn't stay mad at John even if he were ran through with a sword by the doctor. God knows, he deserved it some times.

"Now?' John asked, finally feeling a little more comfortable and joining the men at the table. Sherlock contented himself with leaning on the doctor's chair, the golden hair below him flickering and catching he light as John moved.

This was starting to become an unhealthy obsession, Sherlock decided, all this watching John meant that Sherlock could tell immediately what was wrong, though, so that was a bonus, as he knew he was terrible at recognising emotions. Sherlock lifted his eyes to look at the others and found he wasn't the only one observing John as Stone removed folders from the plastic sheeting kept in his pocket and John reached out for them. Greg's eyes were fixed on John's movements and Sherlock wondered what John was doing that was so intriguing. His eyes narrowed as the DI kept watching. Finally, as though remembering he was meant to be paying attention, the DI turned back to the explanation going on below them, but before he did so, he raised his eyes to meet Sherlock's and the detective registered with shock the light of shame in them.

It was gone almost immediately as the DI smiled at Sherlock who returned it by twitching the corners of his mouth upwards, still in shock over what he might have observed…but…no…

Sherlock had never doubted his brain before, and had never doubted any deductions he had made – but he could be wrong. He briefly remembered John's phone and the deduction about a brother – and decided he must be wrong here. Lestrade wasn't in any way attracted to John. Sherlock focused back on the proceedings at hand. There was no way that Lestrade was lusting after his John, because Lestrade was ram-rod straight – hell, Sherlock ought to know.

Sherlock just tuned back in to hear John say, "I'll get her,"

"Right," Stone got to his feet, "They'll be back before the end of the night," he said to Matt, who nodded,

'Even if they're not, I'll tell the sergeant that he'll have a day off," Stone nodded and gestured to Sherlock and Lestrade,

'You two, with me. John, go get Sally," The doctor went to his bed and pulled on his socks before yanking on his boots. Tying the laces up, he got to his feet.

John walked out of the cabin, before turning around and walking back inside, "Any chance of getting a jacket?" he asked and the commander raised an eyebrow, anything but pleased at the state of undress John seemed to be in. If anyone asked him, he'd tell them he slept in full uniform, minus the boots. It was true, ask his wife.

'Go to the laundry, we'll get your clothes washed and dried. You'll have to live with the idea of being a cadet." The commander said, his icy gaze bearing down on John, who, even after his three-year stint in Afghanistan was intimidated by it.

John laughed slightly nervously and jogged towards the laundry, clearly labelled in front of him, the light from the lampposts the only source of light, as up above, the sky was covered in clounds. Running inside he looked at the neatly folded clothes and went through until he found his size, pulling the jacket on, crisp and clean, before turn and heading towards Sally's cabin.

He was still doing the buttons up as he arrived in front of the building. The doctor grimaced at the thought of having to enter to wake her up, or risk waking the entire cabin up by knocking, and opened the door. The light from outside, cast by the lights that stayed on all night, flooded into the cabin, and John looked around, past all the sleeping forms, finding the fuzzy mop of hair poking above the sheets. Creeping into the cabin John walked over to Sally, stepping over all the things that littered the floor. He gently bent over and shook Sally awake.

The former police sergeant moved and mumbled something or the other but didn't wake, 'Sally," John whispered, shaking her again. This time, Sally's eyes did flicker open. There was a flash of confusion as she sat up, the sheets falling off her. She rubbed her eyes, 'what are you doing here?" she asked, briefly wondering whether John had gone completely mad on account of Sherlock as he was most definitely not allowed in here,

'We need to go," he said, wishing he didn't sound quite so urgent to get out of here. There was something about this cabin that felt different to him, and he didn't like it.

'Where?" Sally whispered, even as she asked the question spinning so that she could get her boots on, getting read to go. John sat on the bed as she tied her laces still half asleep. Sally stumbled to her feet and led the way to door. This time, however, John wasn't quite so careful on the way out about everything that was on the floor. He didn't see the discarded pair of pants on the ground and tripped over them, falling face first into the floor boards, taking with him the corner of one of the cadets bedposts with a crack that woke everyone up with a jolt.

The cadet whose bed he tripped over sat up, her long, razor straight hair falling into her eyes as she stared at the man sitting on the floor, "John?" she asked, as everyone else woke up fully and the name, along with the word 'doctor' was repeated, as women got out of bed to see for themselves the doctor on the ground, pulling himself up. John stumbled to his feet, blushing furiously and thanking god that there wasn't enough light to highlight this fact. Sally was biting her lip, trying not to laugh, as the doctor lost his balance again, the pants tangled around his legs. He bent down and untangled them, muttering under his breath about stupid pieces of clothing and lack of order, 'Doctor?" Maddie asked and John straightened, finally able to remove the pants from around his legs, 'those are mine," Maddie said, as the cabin fell silent, a few giggles scaping. John glanced down, and swallowed, the movement lost in the darkness of the room. "Here," He said, placing them at the foot of her bed,

'We'll be going now," Sally said, chocking slightly on her words as she tried to contain her glee,

'Where?" Maddie asked, curious, and the only one who wasn't in silent fits of laughter at the awkwardness of John's position,

'Um…out," John grabbed Sally's hand, and as the room exploded into conversation, most of which was directed at him, he led Sally out and pulled the door shut behind them.

Sally burst into laugher as the doctor dragged her across the ground, and to the waiting car. John knew that this just reinforced the 'fact' that they were a couple and he prayed that the news wouldn't reach Sherlock's ears.

Sally managed to bring the laughter down to a couple of chuckles as they neared the car and she looked at John, forcing him to stop with a tug on his hand, 'Where are we going?" she finally managed,

'Get in," John said, a small smile forming on his face as he watched the scene in his head again, and realised what a fool he must have looked. Sally kept watching his face, and she broke into laughter again and this time John joined her.

From inside the car, Sherlock heard Sally's laughter first and shushed the rest of the car as they listened to it getting closer. There was a moment where there was silence and Sally asked a question, too softly for them to hear through the bulletproof glass and metal. Here was silence again and this time, John's laughter joined in as both of them started laughing themselves silly. Sherlock exchanged a glance with Lestrade who shrugged and Stone sighed,

'What are they doing?" he asked, as the laughter continued and Sherlock sighed,

"I'll get them,"

The detective opened the door and felt a twinge of jealously and a spike of anger as his back throbbed with the motion of moving to get to John and Sally as John laughed openly, holding his side as he panted, in considerably better shape than Sally, who had all her wait on the car as she laughed and cried. 'Are you coming?" Sherlock asked, hoping that the smile across his featured looked real enough. John turned his attention to Sherlock, who, in the dim light looked like a vampire, and he started laughing at what Sherlock would say if he heard it. Sally sobered up, though, and, while she was still smiling she ushered John towards the car,

'Get in," she said, repeating John's words. He grabbed Sherlock's shoulder as a form of greeting and wondered what he had eaten, because he felt relatively drunk.

The two of them climbed into the car and Sherlock followed, closing the door, as John's breathing returned to normal, as did his expression,

'Where are we going?" Sally asked, feeling a little like a broken record as Stone gave the signal to start the car, and open the gates,

'Well, I never got to finish my explanation about Bob Howell, did I?" Stone asked, and every shook their heads, John, albeit, a little belatedly,

"Mr. Howell is responsible for our little chase on the high seas," Stone said, his face darkening at what embarrassment that had caused. The satellite footage had captured it all, as there were no clouds that day, and it had a perfect view. Both SIS and MI5 were laughing about it. He pushed that thought to the back of his mind, "I don't want to hear arguments against it, because I've seen the case and it's taken three years to work the damn thing out," Stone added, looking around and Sally nodded,

'We had been thinking about it, Stone," she said, "and we have considered it a possibility,"

"Only a possibility, mind," Sherlock added, and Stone nodded, while Lestrade looked between all of them, confused, but keeping his mouth shut and his eyes off John as Stone continued, "The only thing is, he's untouchable,"

'So why are we going after him, then?" Sherlock asked, his tone a little sharper than he had originally intended. He was still a little peeved at John (he'd never dealt well with rejection) and seeing him with Sally had worsened his mood. They had their moments, but never was John's laughter that raucous with Sherlock.

Sherlock told his mind to shut up, so what if he never made John laugh like that? It was always the other way around anyway, as Stone answered,

'We have an ace he never expected,"

'Which is?" Lestrade asked, catching on that "Howell" must be referring to Saint Bob, who, in this current light was anything but a saint, and that he was their current enemy. Stone looked from one face to another, knowing his next words may just get him shot, hit or both,

"Moriarty,"

Neheh. Wow. Long Chapter, huh? Well. I was home sick. Because I have a headache and a sore throat, and as long as I don't talk, I'll be fine. :D

Told you dear old Jim was coming back into the story. And sorry for the darkness at the start, this story positively refuses to listen to what I have to say, and my opinion doesn't count. XD

Aza

xoxo