"He didn't say anything?" You asked, sitting up. I closed the bedroom door behind me, leaning up against it for a moment just to get my bearings, then shook my head. You grunted and laid back down, letting your eyes drift back up toward the ceiling. "He's only getting himself deeper into trouble the more he hides his motives from us."

"He knows that." I sighed, crossing over to my side of the bed. "He's not stupid. He's just scared."

"He's just suspicious."

"Sherlock."

"Have you ever considered that maybe Macie wasn't the only reason he came to London?" You asked. "He tried to get into contact with the major who, obviously, does not live in London. He gave us no reason as to why he would come from Cardiff to London, he gave no account of what he did in the time that he was here before he came to us. Now he's gone off doing Christ-knows-what and gotten himself bloody bruised up about it. The chances of him being nothing but an bystander are getting slimmer and slimmer."

I kicked at your thigh. "I won't have you talking like that about Jandi."

You grunted. "Then get him to account for himself."

"He's just a kid."

"There's no excuse for being untrustworthy."

I glared at you and reached for my laptop. We had been busy so long that I hadn't even been able to check my e-mail. As I loaded up my account, a message was waiting there for me.

Date: March 5, 2014
Time: 1:36 P.M.
To: Dr. John Watson
From: Maj. James Sholto
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Urgent

I'm not sure I should be sharing Macie's private matters with such a susceptible method as in e-mail. Not that I doubt your account's security, it's just that I've had my electronic communications breached on more than one occasion, and I don't want to put you or I in a compromising position if something dangerous is in fact going on here. All I can tell you is that while she herself is very open, the people she so willingly assists are not always so accepting. I haven't heard of any of them getting violent to the point of coming after her, but I would have never expected her to go missing, either.

Call the police. Let them handle this. There isn't much else you can do.

JS

"By the look on your face, I'd assume that was from the major," You drawled.

I glanced up at you. "What look?"

"Have you set up your e-mail to your mobile?"

"What look?"

You huffed, stretching over and reaching into my trouser pocket to get at my phone. As you began typing things into my phone, I composed another reply on my computer. "You know, there's been a real trend going on lately," You mentioned. "If people would just tell me things, it would solve a lot of problems that could have been avoided otherwise."

"There are about a hundred different things you could be referencing with that statement."

"I did say trend, didn't I?"

I shook my head. "Sholto says that he doesn't feel comfortable sharing details of Macie's interactions over the internet."

"Well, tell him to come here."

"He won't want to come here."

"Then we'll go to him."

"That could be possible. But you shouldn't be travelling." I kept typing. "I'll offer to go myself. If it's a reasonable distance, I can go in the morning and get back later in the day. You and Jandi can stay here and rest up for a while."

"If he doesn't try to escape again," You said.

"He's not a prisoner, Sherlock."

"Not yet," You challenged, handing my phone back. "You should get alerts whenever there's a new message. That way you can respond to them faster."

"Thank you, just let me finish this." I took my phone.

Date: March 5, 2014
Time: 6:49 P.M.
To: Maj. James Sholto
From: Dr. John Watson
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Urgent

Would you consider meeting with me personally to discuss it? Since you're not comfortable transmitting it, sitting and talking in-person a possibility. I understand that you are wary of appearing in public, but I could visit you. It would be simpler, especially if it's privacy you're worried about.

Jandi is getting restless, and I'm starting to suspect that he's not quite as safe here as I originally thought. I'd really like to learn as much as I can, so I can help the both of them.

Let me know.

JW

I hit send and closed the computer down, sliding it back into the bed-side drawer. "I don't want you making Jandi uncomfortable, alright? I'm sure he feels foolish enough already, he doesn't need you reaffirming it every chance you get. I promise it will be counterproductive."

"I won't reaffirm it unless he does."

I glared at you, and you watched me.

"Why are you so insecure, John." You asked.

"Insecure? I'm not insecure."

"Neither am I."

I hesitated. "Well, I'm glad we cleared that up?"

"Tell me about Sholto."

"There's nothing to explain."

"You're not a good liar. If you're going to meet with him, possibly alone, it's best I know, isn't it?" You said. "Tell me."

I pursed my lips. "Fine. I'll tell you."

"G-"

"As soon as you tell me where your stash is."

That got you to backtrack. You guarded your reaction and bore into my eyes. "I don't have a stash."

"I know you do." I folded my arms, leaning back against the headboard. "You told me that you got rid of that stash two months ago. I took your word for it because you were doing well, you were being open about it. Now, what? You've given up? Where'd you even get the stuff? Did you buy it off the street or snatch it off Molly Hooper?"

"I didn't snatch it off anyone," You defended. "I told you, I keep an emergency kit."

"You told me you got rid of the emergency kit."

"I did get rid of it. I only kept the emergency dosage."

"That's not getting rid of it."

"It saved your ass and it's saved mine many times before, you're not going to get rid of my emergency kit. It's not an option."

I frowned, my heart sliding helplessly into my stomach. The disappointment hit me like a train, and I turned away from you. I had thought it was gone, I thought you were getting better, I thought your cravings were getting easier, I thought you had finally learned to say no and that I didn't have to worry about it anymore because you had gotten rid of the shit. But, no. You had in fact kept the shit, and reached for the shit the first chance you had. It was only morphine, I reminded myself. It wasn't cocaine, and it wasn't anything worse. But it shattered the illusion I had, and it put that weight back on my shoulders. My chest felt heavy.

"Your turn," You said.

I glanced over at you, both irritated and hurt. For a split second, I considered shattering your illusion as well. But, no. That would be too much.

"We were friends." I answered. "Almost lovers. But it fell through. The warfront isn't a place for romance."

"Almost lovers?"

"Yeah."

"How close?"

"Pretty far. But we've hardly spoken since I left. There's nothing there anymore." My phone buzzed on the nightstand, and I reached to pick it up.

"Well, that's anticlimatic."

I froze, staring at you, not sure quite how to react. I didn't say anything. The silence hung for a good while, and I could see the recognition on your face before I could feel the pain on mine. I turned down to my phone, and you propped yourself onto your elbows.

"That wasn't good, was it."

You studied me, and I focused on my screen.

I wouldn't prefer meeting in person, but if that's the way that is necessary, I can arrange for it. I won't inconvenience you with a trip to where I am; I'll come to London. Where would you want us to meet? - JS

"I was wrong." I murmured.

"Hmm?"

"He's coming to London."

"Is he planning on staying in the flat?" You asked.

"I don't know, I can offer." I texted a reply.

That would be perfect. If you're planning on staying overnight, you're welcome to stay in our flat. It would probably be safer for you to stay with us than in a hotel. But from here, there are a variety of places we could go. Whatever makes you most comfortable. - JW

"I should have been gentler," You said, now propped on one side, facing me.

"Forget about it, Sherlock." I sighed, closing my phone. "Just, stop bringing it up. And, I swear, if you say anything in front of Sholto, it'll be your skull on the fireplace."

"No need to get violent."

My eyes fell again, fogging over with thought. You stretched over and brushed your fingers against my chin, pulling my gaze back to yours.

If you'd have me in your flat, I'd prefer it. Like you said, it'd be better for me not to be alone. Thank you for your hospitality. I can either arrive tomorrow evening or the morning of the 7th. Which would be better for you? - JS

It's no problem at all. You can stay with us as long as you'd like. As for arriving, the sooner the better. Will you be travelling by plane or by train? I can meet you, wherever you'll be coming in. - JW

Thank-you. I'll be flying in. Do you still live on Baker St.? If so, I can take the tube to your street without escort. If you'd like to meet me at the station, you can. If not, I can always make the stairs to your flat on my own. I won't stay long, though. I don't like to overstay my welcome. - JS

Believe me, it won't be possible to overstay your welcome. I can meet you at the tube stop. Looking forward to seeing you. - JW

Thank-you, John. - JS

Of course. - JW

Deep rain fell in sheets, drenching my clothes and chilling me to the bone. I struggled to keep my eyes open, but the rain stung at my face, making the world around me blurry and distant. Everything was grey and dripping, water beginning to swirl around my feet, building into puddles and threatening to spill over from the drains. Clouds hung low, cutting off the street from the sky, suffocating it of light.

There was an innate feeling of fear, panic surging through my veins faster and stronger than blood. You were out there, somewhere, out of my reach, and I had to reach you. I tried to run, but my feet were weighed down by the weight of the water in my shoes. I waded, moving as fast as I could, but the water kept getting higher, swallowing my ankles, then my knees.

Asphyxia. Asphyxia.

I fell forward, splashing and kicking and trying to swim with my arms. The water began eating away into the houses, pouring water through doors and windows. I tried to swim, but my clothes weighed me down, dragging me toward the asphalt below. It overwhelmed me, and I felt myself sinking, drowning, fighting the current, gasping for breath, gasping for-

You shook me awake, and the grey water melted into your blue eyes, pale skin, dark room, yellow windows. Your face was cold. My whole body was trembling. I reached out for you, gripping fistfuls of your hair and pulling you closer, my lungs painfully constricting. You settled down against my chest, wrapping your arms around me and cradling me against you as I fought for air.

"It's alright, John, you're alright." You whispered, gently petting my hair. "Breathe."

I let out a gentle, wavering moan, clenching my eyes shut. I started to come down, and as the adrenaline wore off my lungs stopped hurting quite so badly. I cursed myself with such force that you clenched me tighter. I almost started to cry.

"Shh, John, calm down." You pulled your head up, your eyes soft. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have let you sleep upset."

"Dammit," I heaved. "Why now, why now."

"Just calm down." You rested your forehead on mine. "Just rest."

Panic attacks at night are the worst kind, by far. Not only are they almost impossible to see coming, they leave me feeling drained even into the next morning. You let me sleep in as long as I needed to, and kept Jandi quiet in the other room, but you couldn't cater to me forever. Around ten, Lestrade called in and asked if you could lend a hand for one of his cases, just for a little while. Not long, he promised, an hour or two. You were hesitant to leave me, but I was feeling a bit better and decided to take your leaving as an excuse get myself out of bed.

You had put Jandi to work cleaning the books off your desk and organizing your shelves. He smiled at me as I came into the sitting room, his eye still a little purple around the nose but mostly clean beside that. "How are you feeling, Dr. Watson?" He asked, sliding a book into place.

"Bit shitty," I answered, stretching my shoulders. "But I'm fine, thank you. I see Sherlock gave you chores."

"Yes, sir. He said to get busy and not to bother you."

"How nice of him." I sighed, moving over to sit at the desk. "I'll help you out."

"You don't need to, I've got it. If you need to rest, you should do that instead."

"It's fine, I want to help." I grabbed a stack of papers and began sorting through them. Most of them were just old bills and case notes. "Did he make breakfast for you?"

"No, I made it myself."

"Oh, alright. I didn't know you knew how to cook."

He gave me a little smile. "I live with Macie. One of us had to learn."

I chuckled. "That's true."

"Do you cook for Sherlock?"

"Yeah, most of the time. He tends to forget to eat, so if I didn't cook, there would be no food in the house." I smiled.

He nodded, then glanced over at me. "I'm sorry, but can I ask a question?" He asked.

"Of course."

"Are you and Mr. Holmes married? I saw the ring on his hand, but I wasn't sure."

"We're engaged," I answered, showing him my own ring. "But no, we're not married."

"Okay. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, it's alright. I never actually explained to you about our relationship." I nodded. "Can I ask what your relationship to Macie is? Are the two of you together?"

"No, we're only flatmates," He said. "I translate for her on her trips, and she pays me in lodging."

"Oh, alright, that sounds like a nice arrangement."

"It is. I enjoy living with her." He put a few more books on the shelf.

"Do the two of you have a lot of friends within the Red Cross?" I asked.

"Yes, a few. We travel a lot to the same villages, so we're able to meet the children and the families there and offer aid to them. Some of the nurses choose to rotate away from the country, but Macie enjoys it there the most, and I'm not able to translate for her in other areas. We have lots of friends."

"Good, good. And what do the two of you do when you're not on-duty?"

"Not too much. Macie likes to garden, and she spends quite a lot of time writing, of course."

"Oh, I should've figured."

He nodded, a little grin growing on his face. "Her favorite room of the house is the sunroom. She's built it into her office, with a desk and lots of shelves, looking out into the lawn and the garden. She has all her journals, from her childhood to the war to the Red Cross, all stored away there. She can sit for hours, listening to her music on the disc player and writing until her hands are red and sore."

I smiled. Macie had always loved writing, even during the war, and had kept detailed journals with her wherever she went. The thought of her, sitting in a warm sunroom surrounded by her passion, was a pleasant one.

"And what about you?" I asked. "What do you like to do?"

He glanced at me - just a short glance, but enough for me to catch.

"Not much," He admitted. "I ride bicycles and read English books. Sometimes I help in the lawn, but not often. I always uproot her herbs."

He focused an unusual amount on the shelves, removing and rearranging books, even if they were in the correct order. I patted a pile of papers into order, watching him, his sudden attitude change catching my interest.

"Well, you know, Jandi," I said, "We were awfully worried about you the other night."

"I'm sorry."

"Sherlock was a bit angry that you wouldn't tell us where you were going."

Jandi turned back to the desk to pick up more books and looked me in the eye. Right then, he didn't look like a nervous kid from Wales. He looked like a lion, with dark fire in his eyes, his brow furrowed and strong. He didn't look angry, but he looked determined, and definitely in no mood to defend himself or his actions.

"I came back," He said, plainly. "Don't worry about the rest."

"We want to make sure you're not in danger." I continued, a little quieter.

"I am in danger." He replied. "And so are you."

I'm waking up to ash and dust, I wipe my brow and I review my rust.

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