So, I read a book about war surgeons in preparation for writing this fic so that I could kind-of understand how everything worked in Afghanistan, but it was an American author, so if things go down differently in English camps I obviously have no idea. There isn't too much detail so I think I'm safe, but if anyone spots something that's inaccurate, let me know.

As the boy pushed past Mrs. Hudson, you started to stand. He was unfamiliar to you, a stranger, and moving toward me fast. But my heart went light when he met my eyes. I recognized him immediately and moved to meet him too. "Jahandar?" I asked, almost laughing. "Jahandar Dali, is that you?"

"It is, Dr. Watson," He said, relief flooding him. "It's very good to see you."

I offered my hand to him, and he shook it firmly. You settled back in your chair, still confused. "You're acquainted?"

"We are, yes." I turned to you, unable to hide my smile. "Sherlock, this is Jahandar. Or, Jandi. Can I still call you Jandi?"

"Of course," He nodded.

"Then, Jandi, this is Sherlock Holmes."

"A pleasure." You said.

Jandi nodded, glancing between you and I. "I don't mean to intrude in your home, Dr. Watson, I apologize."

"Oh, no, it's perfectly fine, you're not intruding at all." I offered him the sofa. "Sit down?"

He thanked me and took a seat, sitting down at the very edge of the couch and folding his hands in his lap. You watched him quizzatively, no doubt deducing as much about him as you could while I started a kettle of tea in the kitchen. Jandi was quiet, just watching and surveying the room, purposefully avoiding eye-contact with you. It was no surprise you intimidated you, although I wished you would've given him a break.

I brought in tea for you and Jandi and then settled down on the sofa with my own. "What are you doing in London, Jandi?" I asked, stirring. "Last I heard you were living in Wales with Macie Lowdry."

"Yes, sir." His Pashto-English accent put a little smile on my face. "We share a flat in Brecon, now."

"Oh, alright, good, very good. How is she, Macie?"

He hesitated. "Well, that's why I'm here, sir."

I set my cup in my lap. "What happened?"

Jandi looked at me a moment, then let his eyes shift over to where you were sitting.

"Am I making you nervous?" You asked.

"I don't mean to be rude, sir, but yes. I'm particular with people."

"I know you are." You replied.

"Sherlock, please." I glanced back at you. "Would you let us talk?"

You made a face. "I'm not a child, John. Just because the two of you have Afghanistan in common doesn't mean that I'm not able to comprehend any of your conversation, or any kind of danger Macie might have-"

"You told him?" Jandi said, eyes going wide. "What did you tell him about me?"

"I didn't tell him anything." I sighed. "He just, well, does that."

"She told me to be careful." He continued, shakily. "Macie is in danger, and so am I."

"Calm down, Jandi." I set my hand reassuringly on his shoulder. He took a deep breath, and I lowered my head closer to his. "Look. Sherlock's a detective. If you're in trouble, if Macie is in trouble, there isn't anyone better to hear. Believe me. He can help."

He glanced up at you again, then nodded. I could tell he still wasn't too interested in the idea of sharing his story with someone he wasn't close to, but it wasn't much of a choice, for either of us. You were intrigued, and there wasn't much we could do to get you to sod off without physically dragging you. Jandi shifted in his chair, and you took a sip of your tea.

"That is why you came here, isn't it?" You asked. "You knew I was a detective."

"Yes, sir, I did. But that isn't why I came." He scratched at his arms. "Macie told me very clear not to go to the police, not to go to the government or the law enforcement at all. Otherwise something awful might happen, to her, to me, or to anyone."

I sat back. "Alright, I'm confused. Macie told you not to talk to the police?"

"Yes, sir. You see, Macie just got back from Afghanistan a few weeks ago. She volunteers with the Red Cross there and often serves for terms of several months at a time. I go with her, we stay for a while with other it goes well - we don't run into violent sorts quite as often, the wounds aren't as serious. But it was different this time. The people were angry, there were lots of shots and violent wounds. And the people were hungry. You know, when you go into villages, if the people are hungry, there's trouble there.

"Macie met a man there, his name was Tamim. He had a shot wound through his shoulder, she stitched it up for him. But he recognized her, from when she used to go to his town when he was a little boy. That was during the war, when she was stationed at Ristol, with you."

"Yes, I remember that. When she used to go into Khales."

"He didn't try to hurt her, but after meeting him she was very scared. I asked why, but she couldn't answer. She just said that his father was a warrior, a part of the drug cartel network. She wanted to come off duty right away. That's not like her, running away. She usually begs to stay an extra week, an extra month. But she got off duty right on time, she was packed days before leaving. She went home to Wales and shut herself in, she hardly left her room even for food. It wasn't like her at all.

"She started planning, started preparing. She gave me instructions for what to do if she went missing. She knew she was in danger, but instead of trying to protect herself, she worked hard to protect me. She gave me contacts, gave me numbers and addresses, for me to use. She told me not to go to the police or to the government, that they couldn't help. She told me that if anything happens that I should find her Afghanistan friends."

"So you came to me?" I asked.

"Not first. Macie made it very clear, she said, 'Jandi, if everything happens to you, I want you to leave this house, and I want you to find James Sholto. Find him, and tell him what's happened. He'll help you' "

"Major James Sholto?" I rolled the name on my tongue. "Why him?"

"She didn't tell me. She just said find him." Jandi set his still-full cup of tea on the side-table and wrung his wrists. "It was the night before she left. The next morning, I woke and she was gone. All her bedroom windows were open, and her door was ajar. There was nothing stolen and nothing broken. She had simply vanished. That was three days ago"

"There was no note, no anything?"

"Nothing. The house was silent. I was so scared, I ran into town and took the bus to Cardiff. There I tried to phone the major, but the number that Macie had left in the book she gave me was disconnected, and there was no house address. I didn't know what else to do. I came to London on the trains, and I slept on the steps of the station the first night. I wanted to see Colonel Franklin, but there were too many police, and I was afraid. Then, I saw your name in the papers, and I remembered you were in London."

"The papers?"

"He must've seen a paper about a past case," You interjected.

"Your address was in the book." He finished. "I came to you as fast as I could, although, I got lost a few times."

"That's quite a story, Jandi." I remarked. "Could I see Macie's book?"

Jandi nodded and reached for his pack. The thing looked almost half-empty, but as he unzipped the top, I could see why. It was filled with all kinds of papers, notepads, books, and maps. He dumped its contents on the sofa between us, causing a few pages to fall on the floor. I picked them up; bank statements. Legal documents. Macie's credit cards and health insurance and social security pamphlets. Among them were scattered notes in Macie's handwriting. Instructions, wills, promises, and letters.

"She gave me everything I would need to become her legal heir, of everything." He said, sadly. "I don't think she planned on coming back."

"If that were true, why would she send you for help?" You asked.

He shook his head, pulling out a certain yellow fold of paper from the stack. "That's for the house."

"Well, the first thing we can do is get someone out there in Wales looking for her," I said, starting to stand.

"No, no!" Jandi exclaimed. "No police, no government."

"Fine, not the police, but at least someone. Do you have friends in Wales? Neighbors?"

"We live in the country," He answered. "Outside town. We don't go in much. Just Red Cross friends and Afghanistan friends."

I cursed. "Where's that book?"

Jandi stuck his hand into the pile and pulled out a small leather-bound book. My heart went numb when I saw it, because I knew it was Macie's. There was a yellow-gold M stamped into the cover, with a gold bookmark near the middle. Flipping to it, a phone number with Major James Sholto's name assigned to it was circled in felt-tipped pen. It was his old number - I knew it didn't work because I had tried it myself, ages ago. I glanced quickly through the rest of the pages, recognizing some names and not others, and was filled with a strange sort of nostalgia reading the names of the men and women I had served with.

"Well, Jandi, you can stay here as long as you need to. We'll help you figure this out, however we can." I closed the book. "Do you need anything, right now? Food, water, a shower?"

"Oh, a shower would be good," He sighed.

"There's a full bathroom upstairs, with a bedroom. We can get you situated there. Feel free to use whatever you see."

I smiled at him, and he smiled back. "Thank you, Dr. Watson."

"Please, just John is fine. I know it's been a while, but I'm still the same old John."

He nodded sheepishly and began to collect his things.

While the water from the shower ran overhead, I rummaged through our closet and picked out the pieces of my suit. I hadn't worn it in ages. After losing so much weight over the winter, only a handful of my dress shirts even fit me, and even less of my trousers. I managed to find a black-and-white pinstripe shirt that wasn't too wrinkled, and a pair of pleated black trousers that didn't sag as long as I wore the right belt. I quickly stripped and began to change.

"I mean, I respect Macie's desire not to go to the police, but I've got to do something about this, and Guendolyn is our best bet. I can't just sit around and try to deduce it away, I have to make sure there's something being done."

"That's understandable," You said. You had decided (finally) to give your body some rest, only after your stitches had begun to come undone. You were propped up on some pillows to watch me, but still mostly horizontal, and I was going to take what I could get. You brushed your hand through your hair. "Franklin Guendolyn. That was the man at your father's funeral, wasn't it?"

"Mm-hmm, the colonel."

"I would imagine that he'd push for the police."

"Then that's his call. But he knows best. Franklin's pretty good about this sort of stuff."

"Are there many Taliban kidnappings among Afghanistan veterans?" You scoffed.

"We don't know if it was the Taliban, or anything like that," I said.

"It's the most likely."

I shook my head. "Whatever it is, I'll let Franklin take care of it. He's been the representative for the war for a long time, and he knows the ins and outs. He'll be able to help us." I nodded, more reassuring myself than reassuring you. "He'll know what to do."

"What about this Sholto man?" You asked. "Who is he? Have I met him?"

I hesitated, my mouth not quite forming the right words, and I ended up stammering. "No, you haven't. He's, uh, well, he's, he was one of the majors that I - we, Macie and I - worked with. In Afghanistan. One of the upper men, the soldiers. On the battlefield."

You nodded. I could feel the heat from your eyes boring into me. "What else?"

I turned. "What do you mean, 'what else'? There's nothing else."

It was obvious you weren't convinced, but you dropped the topic in favor of another one. "Explain all this to me. How do you know these people."

"Well, while I was in Afghanistan, I was assigned as an assistant surgeon under the supervision of Dr. Lewis Roth. I'm sure I've told you that before. But it wasn't just me, I wasn't the only assitant surgeon. Macie Lowdry, she was the other assistant. We worked with the corpsmen and were, eh, fairly close during the time."

"Alright, and what about Jahandar?"

"Jahandar was first brought into camp before my time. We - Roth, Macie, and I - were all stationed in Camp Ristol with the Fifth Fusiliers, and that's where we met Jandi. He was orphaned when he was younger, his family killed by some Muslim activists, as I heard it; he sustained some injuries, but the English doctors nursed him back to health. He'd been a part of life there for a while. Learned English, dormed with the hospital staff, that sort of thing. He was just a boy when I was over there, but he's still that skittish sort of kid, I guess."

"And Sholto?"

"I already told you, he was one of the majors in Camp Ristol."

"Why was he important? Why would this woman single him out for Jandi to run to? Why was he special?"

I studied you for a few seconds. I knew you were good, but you couldn't have known everything from just a glance. I had your attention, though, and all your interest. Or, rather, Sholto did, and Sholto's relation with the problem. Sholto's relation with me.

"I'm not sure, Sherlock." I answered, honestly. "He was a good friend of mine. Macie, too. But why she would single him out? I don't know. Maybe something happened between the two of them after I was deported. But I'm not sure." I tightened and fastened my belt. "Maybe Franklin will know."

"Maybe."

You caught my eye again, this time pointedly. You saw something; you just didn't know what. I tipped my head. Yes, you did in fact see something. But I wasn't going to give you the satisfaction of telling you what it was. We hadn't talked about it before, and I wasn't entirely convinced you were ready for it. I grabbed a raincoat from within the closet and stepped toward the door, your eyes still following me all the way.

"Get some rest, and don't tell Jandi where I've gone. I don't want him to worry."

I paused before the door, watching you, and then stepped and leaned forward to peck my lips against the top of your head. You blinked, slightly miffed, but I didn't mind. I patted your shoulder, said goodbye, and closed the door behind me.

There's lots of new stuff I just introduced, oops. If you're still unsure about anything, tell me and I'll address it in the next chapter. If not, I win this time.

Pass around the lampshade, there'll be plenty enough reviews in jail.

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