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As before, beta'd by MrsNoggin. All remaining mistakes are my own.
Warnings: war themes, violence
Disclaimer: All recognisable characters belong to ACD and the Masters Moffat and Gatiss. Until they invite me into their club on genius writers I shall own nothing!
London, 30 September 2012
"I can help, Mycroft. And before you protest, pull my records from the army, would you? I am sure that poses no problem to you. And also, get the records of Captain Andrew Doyle while you are at it."
"What are you trying to prove John? I've already read your file, and while it is quite impressive I fail to see the relevance here. And who is Andrew Doyle?"
"The files, Mycroft."
John almost smiled to himself when he saw Mycroft's puzzled face. He really loved playing with the older Holmes, enjoying the feeling of knowing things that the powerful man in front of him had clearly missed. It was a rare occurrence and he was not above being gleeful sometimes.
Still slightly confused by the sudden change in the doctor's behaviour, Mycroft logged himself into the Ministry of Defence Database. Pulling the file of Captain John H. Watson was simple. Captain Doyle, however, proved a bit more difficult. His frown deepened after he was prompted for the third time for yet another security clearance code. He did have full access, but files this well protected usually belonged to top secret units. Finally the file opened to him and as expected, the record belonged to a member of the SRR or Special Reconnaissance Regiment, a unit of the British Army Special Forces.
John was watching Mycroft working on his computer, and while he could not see the screen, he recognized the exact moment when the Doyle file opened. Mycroft's eyebrows seemed to try and reach his ever receding hairline. John suppressed a smile.
"SRR? That is elite, even for Special Forces. How do you know this man? Or rather, how did you know him, as he was KIA in Afghanistan almost 3 years ago." Mycroft really was surprised. SRR soldiers were ghosts. Using multiple cover identities to gather Intel all around the world in the hottest of hot zones. He sometimes used them when he did not dare to send his own agents into war zones. SRR teams comprised of highly trained soldiers, each lethal in their own way and operating completely undercover, sometimes for months without contact. They were feared and respected amongst the rest of the military as well as the intelligence services.
"As far as I can tell, you never have served at the same base. Actually, you seemed to have missed each other narrowly quite a few times."
"Not a few times, Mycroft. Always. Check the dates and draw your conclusions."
He went over the file again, but there was little doubt. Whenever John would return to base in the UK, Captain Doyle was sent off on covert missions. The moment Doyle reported back, John would be transferred to his next assignment. The dates were way to close to be coincidence. Even their rise through the ranks was running in sync. But – suddenly it clicked and Mycroft took a sharp intake of breath.
No. It couldn't be, could it?
Afghanistan, undisclosed location, July 2010:
"Doyle, get your ass over here, Roberts got hit!"
The frantic screams of his Team Leader, Lt Col Sebastian Moran sprung Andrew into action. Cursing, he left his position, leaving his team mate Adams in charge of the look out. The team was excellently trained, and even though they all had their specialties, each could take over the duties of any other member. He quickly crawled over to his other two team mates, immediately switching into Doctor mode. One glance told him that the injury was superficial and not life threatening. Roberts had been shot in his upper right arm, but the bullet only grazed the skin and while it was bleeding badly, the wound would not even require stitches. While patching it up, Andrew thought about their current situation.
He still wondered how a simple recon mission had gone FUBAR so quickly. They had been hiking through remote mountains for days to get close enough to the Taliban base in the valley below them. Rumour was that several high ranking Taliban members would have a meeting here sometime this week. Their mission was to confirm the Intel, see who showed up and possibly take out high priority targets. Besides Andrew, the four man team consisted of Team Leader Lt Col. Moran, a wizard with the latest surveillance tech and lethal with a sniper rifle; Lt. Adams, tactical officer and expert for explosives; and Sgt . Roberts, communications and field medic. Andrew was the team's weapons expert and doctor. Usually SRR Teams did not have doctors attached to them, their missions were too dangerous for that, but Andrew had proven to be an excellent marksmen and reliable under fire, so he was attached to his unit primarily as sniper/spotter and only secondly as a doctor. The teams in the SRR were assembled on a mission to mission base and did not stay together after the mission was complete, so he knew very little about his fellow team members, not even their real names. The only exception was Moran. Andrew had been on several missions with the Colonel and they were on friendly terms. The cover identities were a protection, in case someone got captured, so they could never reveal the real identities of their team members because they did not know them.
The team had arrived three days ago and stayed hidden in a small cave just outside the valley. Lt Col. Moran had installed his equipment and within hours they had full view of all activities in the Taliban base through hidden cameras. Now all they had to do was wait for the Taliban leaders to arrive. Unfortunately, one of the enemy patrols had literally stumbled over one of the hidden cameras and immediately alerted the rest of the guards. Shortly after that all hell had broken loose as the Taliban soldiers zeroed in on their hiding spot. So far they had been able to defend their position, taking out quite a few enemies, but they were still severely outnumbered. Roberts had radioed in for air support and evac, but that was still a good two hours away. Andrew glanced over at Moran and they both came to the same conclusion. They had to make a run for it, this position was not defendable enough and they needed better cover.
"We can try to cut through the cave. I have seen a small exit leading to the other side of this mountain range. It is half caved in, but we should be able to widen it enough for us to escape."
Moran just nodded at Andrew's plan. He had come to trust the smaller man's judgment.
"Let's go! Roberts, can you walk?" The Lieutenant gave a quick nod. "All right, Adams, pull back, I will lay some cover fire; they don't need to know we are getting out of here. You have ten minutes to open up the other exit, I will follow, understood?"Another rally of shots rang through the valley and Adams fired back, killing at least two of the approaching enemy soldiers.
"Copy that Colonel!" With that he scrambled up and disappeared inside the cave.
Andrew was still bent over Roberts, having just finished bandaging his arm when suddenly his left shoulder exploded in pain.
"Doyle! SHIT!" Moran had his gun ready and shot the soldier that had approached their position from the side. Crouching down next to his two injured teammates he started to check Andrew's wound.
"Fuck, Roberts, I need you here, the bullet got through the armhole into the shoulder, looks messy!" Moran turned to face the barely conscious Andrew. "Doyle! I need you stay with me, ok? We are getting out of here, but you have to stay conscious, is that clear?"
Instead of answering Andrew just gritted his teeth against the agony in his shoulder. He felt the darkness trying to pull him in but he fought with all his strength to stay away from it. He knew he was losing blood at an alarming rate, they were still deep in enemy territory, under fire and help was at least two hours away. Not good. So he turned to the one entity that might be able to help and prayed: 'Please God, let me live.'
What happened next was blurred in Andrew's mind. He had a slight recollection of Roberts trying to stop the bleeding, screaming at him to stay conscious. He remembered the explosion when Adams opened up their exit, recalled bits and pieces of the hike down the mountain slope, supported by Moran and Adams and accompanied by pain, so much pain. Then, after what seemed like ages, the roaring of the helicopter. An unknown voice screaming at him that he was safe now. That's when he finally gave in to the darkness and let himself sink into a world without noise and pain.
London, 30 September 2012
"You are Andrew Doyle?"
Mycroft's exclamation brought John back to reality.
"Yes, I am. Or rather, he is me. Captain Doyle was my cover identity whenever I was attached to the SRR."
"But, how? You are a doctor, and a good one from your records, but, excuse my saying, hardly Special Forces material." Even though he knew it was true, Mycroft still managed to sound disapproving.
"Gee, thanks. While I am a doctor, I'm also a soldier. I did get full military training and during that it was discovered that I am a quite good marksmen and flagged as a potential recruit for SAS. I did not join them at that time as I wanted to help people, not kill them. During my service I reconsidered this decision and when the SRR was established 2005 they came knocking on my door again. This time I agreed, and that's how Andrew Doyle came into play. I was well known among the RAMC, so a sudden disappearance would have been noticed. With my cover identity I could switch between both divisions easily and nobody noticed that I pretty much spent five years in Afghanistan without any leave. Some SRR assignments took me out to some other parts of the world, but most of my missions were inside Afghanistan."
"You are indeed a man full of surprises, Doctor Watson." Mycroft was impressed. Not only had John made it into an elite combat team, no, he also managed to completely hide this fact from Sherlock and himself. That in itself was no small achievement, and it bugged him that he had missed it. "How did you manage to keep this from my brother?" The 'and me' was implied in the question.
"I did not keep it from either of you. You never asked. Sherlock deduced my military background, but never ventured further into the topic. I guess it wasn't important enough for him to waste his precious mind space for. He only needed to know that I can handle myself and a gun if we come across trouble and that was it. As for you, I guess I always assumed you knew."
Mycroft pondered this response. It was true, after that first case with the cab driver there had been no doubt about John's loyalties and no need for further background checks. He had been completely fooled by his calm and friendly appearance and neglected to screen him properly. This could not happen again, even though this time it ended well, what if John had possessed more sinister motives? He made a mental note to be more careful with his brother's acquaintances in future, but did not comment further on John's assumption.
"So, are you going to tell me where I can find Sherlock, or do you still think that I need your protection?"
"No, I am quite convinced that you are indeed much more capable than we gave you credit for, though your injury may have prevented you from being as good as you were before and resulted in a medical discharge. Just out of curiosity, it was Andrew Doyle that was shot, correct?"
"Yes. But John Watson woke up in the hospital. Captain Doyle died during that last mission." John paused, unsure if Mycroft needed the complete story, but ultimately deciding that the other man would find it out anyway. "I was hospitalised in Kabul for quite some time. Long enough for Command to come up with a cover story on how Captain Watson unfortunately got ambushed by a sniper, only hours after his latest deployment had started. By the time I returned to England, nobody questioned this version of the story, and Captain Andrew Doyle was nothing more than a highly classified file, buried in the depths of the SRR archive."
Mycroft nodded, and in an instant knew that the solution to his problem had just presented itself. He needed someone under the radar to check on Sherlock. Someone with the skill and ruthlessness to go in alone and retrieve his brother. In other words, he needed a ghost. Like Doyle.
"You make a strong case. But I have a question for you first. Are you prepared to die? Like Sherlock did? Leaving behind your friends, your sister, your colleagues? They can't know. This can only work if you truly become Andrew again, with all the consequences and that means we have to eliminate, albeit temporarily, John Watson."
"Yes. That's why I came to you. Sherlock is family, and I need him back. And while I am stuck in this pathetic and lonely life in London, my alter ego is free to go where he pleases. Just- just promise me that you keep everyone safe. No matter what happens to me, nobody else will be dragged into the line of fire. My death won't come as a surprise; everyone knows that your brother's death has left me depressed. Even my therapist has me down as suicidal, and she usually never gets things right."
Mycroft gave John a hard look, observing the younger man's features for any signs of doubt or hesitance. He found none. Looking down he contemplated his next steps. Sherlock would want to kill him once he found out that he had broken his promise to keep his only friend safe. On the other hand, if he did not send John in, Sherlock might never make it back alive. He decided that he could live with his siblings rage much better than with his death.
"We have a deal. I will protect your loved ones and you will bring me my only brother back."
AN: I have no clue about military procedures and especially the SRR and what they really do. (There is close to no information about this unit available online.) So if it is unrealistic, please disregard my ignorance and call it creative freedom.