Right, thought I'd better give you one other chapter; sorry it's so short. I'm going to be away for a couple weeks (without internet access -_-, but I should at least get more chapters done. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock.

Chapter Three:

Sherlock watched as children frolicked through the playground across the street, wondering whether he could find it within himself to hate each and every one of them. But then the image of Doctor John Watson, smiling at the children and voicing his desires to be young again, flashed through his mind and he decided that, just perhaps, the children weren't that bad. Pulling out a phone, he flicked through his photos of the Doctor, trying once again to decide which was his favourite. If he were to be truly honest, his favourite would have to be-

"Have you been sitting here the entire time?" John asked, sitting beside him.

"No." Sherlock lied, turning his phone towards John. "Do you agree that this photo of you is quite impressive?"

"Is that from Harry's birthday party?" John frowned.

Sherlock let out an impatient breath. "Yes. Now, do you agree?"

"Uh… I suppose it's a pretty good photo." John said, looking up and down the empty road.

"When do you leave?" Sherlock asked, tucking away his photo.

"Ah, well, I'll be going for a physical in a few days. There are a few forms I have to fill out. Then there's a training camp thing and then…"

"You'll be gone." Sherlock finished.

"Yeah. In- in three weeks."

"Nervous?"

John grinned. "More excited, I think. They'll probably assign me to the medical team, but I'll still be on active duty and everything."

"So you'll be fighting." Sherlock said. "Might even get killed."

"It's… it's always a possibility. But that won't stop me."

"Why can't you just stay here? Why do you have to go to war?"

"Because… I want to do my part. I'm not going to sit back while others lay down their lives for my freedom and safety. I'm not going to let them die."

"You could stop people from dying by staying here. Work in a hospital and all of that." Sherlock reasoned.

"You know that's not the only reason. Besides, it's my decision and I've made it."

"I dislike your decision. I want you to remain here."

"Why? So you can stalk me?" John snapped.

"I want you to be with me!"

"Well I don't! I barely know you but you've just walked into my life and taken over like you own it! I'm sick of it and I've only known you for a day!" John shouted jumping to his feet and storming away.

"John!" Sherlock called, but quickly decided to leave him be. He had found that when people were mad at him, following them around only made them madder. Of course, he had never really cared about how other people felt, but John was different. John was… John. He was so ordinary, but at the same time, he was so very fascinating. It was infuriating. And so very, very attractive. For a moment, he debated over what he should do to kill time. And then a thought occurred. There was one thing he hadn't done yet, which he had been meaning to do for some time, and seeing as John was going to his brother's (obvious by the direction and John's posture), he would have time to do it. Grinning, he got to his feet and headed off, cloak swirling about him mysteriously.

John heaved a sigh, leaning against his door. He really shouldn't have gone back to Harry's in such a terrible mood, even if he had promised he'd return with news of his possible army career. Of course, due to John's bad mood and Harry's having downed an entire bottle of scotch, they'd ended up fighting and he'd stormed off while Harry shouted abuse and obscenities and her girlfriend, Jeanette, sobbed and at various moments yelled about 'trust' and 'love' and 'healthy relationships'. He was going to be in big trouble the next time he saw his sister. Which reminded him, how long would it be before his stalker realised Harry was-

"Female!" A familiar voice shouted, sounding annoyed but intrigued. "She's his sister! Why didn't he correct me? All this time I've been thinking I was completely right and here is this, this, sliver of information laughing at me!"

John rounded the corner into his sitting room to find Sherlock standing in front of the fireplace, yelling at a family photo of John, his parents and Harry. John coughed and Sherlock froze. "Hi."

"You're back early." Sherlock replied without turning around.

"Harry and I had a fight." John shrugged.

"Yes, you and your sister seem to have a lot of those. How long before you told me?"

"You act like it was some kind of secret. How long have you been in my house?"

"Half an hour."

"Find anything interesting?"

Sherlock turned around, eyes running over John. "You're not angry. At me." He stated.

"No. I realised that… I shouldn't have yelled at you. I mean… I'm sorry, okay? But it is my decision. I am going to war, Sherlock. Even if you don't want me to." John told him softly.

Sherlock looked away, lips already in full pout. "Why?"

"Because that's the way it is."

"Are you still coming with me tonight?"

"Well, it's either that, or sit around my house in my underwear watching crap telly." John grinned.

Sherlock's lips twitched in what could have been a very quick smile. Or an unidentified medical condition manifesting itself in random muscle spasms. John found the latter more comforting, as the idea of Sherlock imagining him in his underwear was slightly terrifying.

"Well then, let's get going." Sherlock said, pushing John towards the front door. "Let's go find something interesting."