CHAPTER 15. THE DECISIONS WE MAKE

A subdued and emotionally drained John Watson, walked straight to his dorm to clear out his things. He didn't have much, he packed quickly knowing Mycroft, he probably had a goon squad on their way to kick him out and he wanted to save himself the humiliation. The sun was already coming up and John with his box of few possessions a duffel of clothes and his red back pack, found himself standing at 7:30 am in the morning reading the message board in the courtyard.

A guy in one of his chemistry classes had seen him looking at the reader board for a dorm or a roommate wanted. "Hey John you can have my couch. My roommate is hardly there anyway. Besides summer quarter is just around the corner."

"Thanks Mike. I appreciate that it wont be for too long." Mike was too good to ask what happened to his last housing arrangements, he didn't care only took the black duffel bag crammed full of Johns clothes and directed him to his room.

John was to wound up to sleep he had to think about school. Without those scholarships he wasn't going to be able to finish his medical training. But he wasn't going to take money he didn't earn. "You alright John? You're looking a bit rough there." Mike was lacing up his trainers. "I'm going to go out for a run, track scholarship and all. You know have to stay in shape. "

"Oh, I'm fine, I'm just going to go for a walk myself."

"Sure mate, here's the extra key." John smiled gratefully and on legs of rubber he left a confused and worried Mike Stamford behind.

John passed a recruiting officer on his way back to the dorm and before he knew what he was doing he was signing his life away to the army, that would take care of the rest of his training, when he finished he'd be a doctor. And with no major debt, that and a little voice in him told him that deploying to another country was a way to be free from the disappointment he brought out in those around him.

Harry wasn't talking to him, his father was dead, he didn't have anyone anymore.

"John-" Mike looked over the contract.

"I'm no lawyer but you do know this is binding."

John nodded. "I know."

"There is a war on John." Mike added.

"Yes I am aware." Mike had only looked on him with an uncertainty as if trying to sum up his friend, wondering what act of desperation forced this change.

"Don't worry about me Mike. I'll be fine."

John made it through boot camp, though he was in excellent physical condition it wasn't as excellent as he thought. His skills in medicine and his high marks at shooting put him in a squad close to the front lines. He'd emailed Sherlock but received no reply. He even sent a letter but guessed it had been intercepted by Mycroft or one of his goons. Harry had written back once just to say she was disappointed in his decision to follow in their father's footsteps.

John had the army, if he didn't have anyone, he had those he helped heal and those he fought along side. He was a doctor a trained army doctor and soon climbed up rather quickly on his own merit and skill. He would send Sherlock emails knowing a letter would never reach him. He wondered if his friend was clean and sober what he was doing with his life now, if he'd found a passion. Maybe became a science major or a philosopher although he didn't have the people skills for it he did have the mind.

Some days were harder than others, the injured came in waves of blood and burns and torn flesh he found himself feeling as if it had no end in sight. Still he wrote to his old friend hoping for a reply, knowing that stubbornness could only go so far.

~0~

Mycroft had been out of country when he got the call that his little brother had overdosed again. He'd been on and off with drugs and after he had the last conversation with John and Sherlock, he thought he didn't have to worry. He had been naive to believe that his brother would see reason or that he could trust someone else to keep an eye on his brother.

Upon hearing that his brother had to be given CPR, Mycroft couldn't control the anger that boiled within. He blamed his staff, three he fired and he blamed the supposed friend John Watson. Mycroft never over reacted; he wasn't usually a man of rash decisions. But when he looked over the little data given to him he acted. And for that, years later Mycroft Holmes would feel an odd guilt yes if one had to label the emotion it was guilt.

The story was laid out for Mycroft Holmes, in a file one he'd pushed aside, "Sir?"

"I have no need in further information on John Watson. " Mycroft sneered. "Just see that he stays clear of my brother. Sherlock is in a delicate emotional state. I wont let him be sidelined this time."

That had been the wrong thing to do, had Mycroft set aside his anger and his own stubborn sentiment he would have found out sooner, would have corrected things. But by the time Mycroft Holmes of the British Government had looked over the file, and only because he'd been notified that John Watson was still trying to contact his little brother, it was too late.

Mycroft irritably called for the file on John, realizing that Sherlock was saving the emails being sent to him but never opening them. The older brother knew enough that curiosity would some day get the better of his little brother and he'd try to make contact with his ex friend maybe out of spite. Seeing how Sherlock had managed to stay clean thus far Mycroft didn't want to upset this streak. He would dissuade John Watson it wouldn't be hard after all Mycroft was now holding a high position in the British Government.

The file sat open on Mycroft's desk at the Diogenes club, his only refuge away from the constant paperwork and endless phone calls, meetings and averted government coups. First he read the report from two years ago, more data had been added to the now completed report. The older Holmes read it twice. The memory of that day still fresh with him, the emotions still raw.

John Watson received a phone call at 11:00 pm from Harriett Watson. John Watson's father Nathan W. Watson died as of 9:30 pm when his car spun out of control and slammed into a tree at speeds 3 times legal limit. Alcohol was a factor. Harriett Watson was called to identify the body, being intoxicated herself, she called John H. Watson for a ride as well as to notify him of his fathers passing. He arrived at the Hospital where an argument ensued he then escorted an upset Harriett Watson into a cab and home. Returning to his Dorm at midnight, where he placed a call to 999 emergency. The Paramedics report states that upon arrival they found John Watson administering first aid, the unconscious Sherlock Holmes was breathing and put on oxygen immediately.

Mycroft read it twice, that's where the boy had been, at the hospital, the same where Sherlock would be brought. Why hadn't he said anything? Of course Sherlock had found out about Mycroft's hand in getting his friend into the same uni. This was only half true, John's grades were the deciding factor, Mycroft only saw that John would be considered.

Still, Mycroft hadn't even tried to defend himself, he allowed his brother to believe whatever at this point about John. John Watson in short had a rough night, and Mycroft had misjudged the situation due to lack of data. A mistake he would not make again.

What he discovered next would forever follow the older Holmes brother, because that was the sequence of events that would directly affect another man's life a good man.

John Watson was nowhere to be found. Mycroft had checked the applications for scholarships, he hadn't been bluffing when he said he'd have the scholarships pulled, Holmes was a very old name and well known for their "donations" to education. John hadn't applied through any of the medical programs. In fact he'd left the Uni all together, an unsettling fact Mycroft knew he'd have to locate the Med student, eventually his brother would realize his mistake and wish to contact John.

The older Holmes brother of course would make this easier, for no other reason than not wishing for his brother's recovery to be halted. Yes, that was his only reason, not sentiment or guilt.

Although the chance to set what was wrong right again was appealing. It wouldn't be a difficult task, after all, John had always been an understanding young man, disgustingly forgiving and Mycroft decided he would use this to his advantage.

He had his people run the name, and bring any information to him. It turned out John's sister had moved to London, renting out their childhood home, and was no longer speaking to her brother. John H. Watson was enrolled at St. Barts, he was on his residency and Mycroft winced running a hand over his face. The young med student had found a way to pay for med school. By joining the army.

The older Holmes realized it was too late even for a man of his position, John Watson had signed a contract, a binding contract.

Another uncomfortably foreign feeling rolled over the Government Official when he discovered where the young man was stationed. Guilt, and it propelled him into action.

Naturally he wouldn't and couldn't share any of this with Sherlock. His brother would become somewhat unpredictable and maybe relapse, no Mycroft would fix this before it drew his brother's attention, he could fix this. He would. He had to.

With no further hesitation Mycroft moved quickly to have John Watson moved, he was two years in and already climbed up in the ranks. Of course he would be, John had a natural drive towards success. Reading over the younger man's service file didn't help ease Mycroft's fears.

Reading between the lines of praise from the army doctors superiors, was reckless stupidity. John had already gained several medals for his bravery in the face of the enemy. He was a doctor he had no business-Mycroft took a breath. He wanted him moved, reassigned to a hospital maybe a veterans hospital here in London, where he could finish the remainder of his military obligations.

Then it would be Sherlock's decision to see the soon to be discharged Army doctor. Mycroft could make those arrangements; it would be best for all involved, he could fix this. After all that is what he did, what he was known for. Fixing things.