3 months later
Chapter 8
At the tone, please record your message
London
Harriet Watson
"Damn it Johnny, pick up!" Harry snapped into her mobile as the sound of John's voice mail greeted her yet again. She had been trying to contact her brother for the past two days without success. She had called, texted and e-mailed and gotten no response. She winced as she took a sip of her drink knowing that if Johnny were here, he would be reading her the riot act. She had fallen off the wagon again after 2 years of sobriety. Clara had left her. That had been the final straw. Things had been going down hill for a while. She should have seen it coming, but she had ignored the warning signs. She tried. She really did, but life just kept throwing her curveballs. She had hit bottom. She had no job. She had been fired 2 months ago due to cutbacks. Last in, first out or so they had claimed. Money had been tight before the layoff. After losing her job, she and Clara had started arguing. It had started with money, but quickly ballooned into other topics and then, just last week, Clara had left. Without Clara's income, she couldn't afford the flat. Harriet now had no job, no girlfriend, no money, and no place to go.
She hated to impose on Johnny again. Despite their strained relationship, Johnny always offered to help, even when she didn't deserve it. He had been trying to look out for her for as long as she could remember and in the past she hadn't thought twice about accepting his help, but things were different now. She wasn't a kid anymore; what's more, her brother had been through hell. Harry felt her chest tighten as she recalled how Johnny stood in front of their Da and took the beatings without making a sound while she hid in her room hoping and praying that she wouldn't be next. Johnny would provoke him on the nights when he was drunk so that he would go after him instead of her. Da had been a mean son of a bitch and had only gotten meaner after their mother had died of cancer. After she died, the drinking had gone from bad to worse and the more he drank the more abusive he became. Johnny had taken her in when she was a teenage runaway despite the fact that he had enough on his plate with medical school. He had paid to put her through rehab when the drinking got out of control even though he had been deployed in Afghanistan at the time. It had been a very one-sided relationship. He gave and she took.
She had tried to turn her life around when he came back wounded. Johnny was nearly killed. He came back with a limp and a tremor in addition to PTSD. She had vowed that things would be different, and for a while, they were. She had managed to stay sober and had gotten a steady job then met Clara. She didn't have to burden him anymore. Their relationship had improved and they spoke regularly after that. Harry smiled as she recalled some of the stories Johnny would tell about his mad flatmate Sherlock Holmes. Though she never met him, she felt like she knew him because Johnny talked about him so much. Then the unthinkable happened. Sherlock Holmes jumped to his death in front of her brother's eyes. Harry had tried to call many times afterwards, but he hadn't answered. She hadn't spoken with John since Sherlock had died. Now she needed help again and for the first time in her life her brother wasn't there. Harry sighed unsure what she would do this time.
Harry racked her brain trying to think of anyone who might be able to contact Johnny. Mike Stamford came to mind, but she dismissed him. As Johnny hadn't seen much of him since his locum work at the A&E had trickled to a minimum after moving in with Sherlock. Sarah Sawyer, was another acquaintance but Harry wrote her off as well. That relationship had ended in disaster and Johnny had quit his job at the surgery shortly after. Martha Hudson, the landlady. She was a possibility. She might have a forwarding address, but whether she would give it to Harry was another story. Molly Hooper, the ME at St. Bart's. But she had always been closer to Sherlock than Johnny and Harry couldn't be sure that she and Johnny had even stayed in contact. DI Lestrade. He would be her best chance. Johnny had mentioned how they were friendly and would occasionally go out together at the pub. If there were someone who could point her in the right direction, it would be him.
She sighed and dialed the number for the met hoping that her lead would yield results. "New Scotland Yard, how may I direct your call?" A soft female voice asked.
"Yes, I trying to contact DI Gregory Lestrade. Is he available?" Harriet asked.
"He is currently away from his desk. He is out on case, but you can leave a voice mail. I'll connect you to his desk extension." Before Harriet could reply there was a beep and an outgoing message asking for her name, contact info and a brief description of her inquiry. After leaving her number, Harriet went on to say.
"Yes, this is Harriet Watson. I'm John Watson's sister. There reason I'm calling is I'm in a bit of a bind and have been trying to get a hold of Johnny but haven't had any luck. He mentioned that you were two friends and I was hoping you could help me out. I need to speak to him. Thank you." Harriet hung up the phone no closer to finding her brother than she had been when she first started.
Meanwhile
Undisclosed location
Mary Morstan
Mary Morstan looked at the file that had just been delivered. AGRA had just acquired a new assignment, one that, at first glance made little sense. It would require her to go deeply undercover into the Afghan desert in order to infiltrate the ranks of the British army and keep watch over the newly reenlisted solider by the name of John Watson. She was not to kill him. Quite the opposite, she was employed to keep him alive until told otherwise. She was to be neither seen nor heard, but to remain a ghostly bodyguard to a seemingly inconsequential man. It seemed a waste, at least in her opinion, to pay AGRA's substantial fee keeping this man alive, but she was not paid to contemplate the reasons behind her orders, but rather to follow them without question. As she looked over John Watson's un-redacted file, she was surprised at what she found. She could not help but feel a begrudging respect for a man that she had yet to see for the first time.
The military record was exemplary. Watson began as an RAMC physician serving as a trauma surgeon on the front lines treating battle injuries, after serving in that capacity for several years and saving countless lives, he then volunteered for officer's training at Sandhurst. After completing the rigorous training, he then re-enlisted as a full combatant and was deployed to Afghanistan during the height of operation HERRICK. Watson once again proved himself. He was skilled in battle and a true crack-shot, he rose quickly to the rank of Captain and was awarded the Victorian Cross for his service in Helmand during operation Achilles. His service was cut short, however, due to a near fatal shot to the shoulder during battle leading to a medical discharge. Mary's brow furrowed in confusion as she read on.
That should have been the end of it. PTSD and intermittent tremor should have barred him from re-enlisting, but someone had altered the records. Why? She thought as she read on still perplexed and unsure of what significance this man seemed to have in order to justify all this subterfuge. He was currently stationed in Kandahar, under commanding officer James Sholto, and in just a few months time, Watson had led several successful missions leading to his promotion to the rank of Major. Mary studied the battle logs and frowned deeply. While Watson had ensured that his men were sufficiently careful in battle, he himself was not. He had been aggressive, borderline reckless in his pursuit of the enemy. Then she came across the missing puzzle piece that fit the actions together. Suicidal tendencies. The man had a death wish; this was why she was needed. She must protect him from himself, so to speak. Why her employer wanted this man kept alive remained a mystery.