Chapter 23
"It was about 10 in the morning when the call came through. There'd been an IED attack on one of the convoys coming in from patrol, lots of casualties, and they needed a surgeon. I volunteered to go along, I knew Bill would miss a day of leave at home if he went out, so we rushed out in our cars and scrambled the choppers to transport them to Bastion. We could only deal with so many of them at the FOB, so we thought we'd send majors and criticals there first. When we got there, it was just awful, I mean...blood everywhere, running down into the drainage ditches...thick black smoke coming from the burned-out trucks and charred metal everywhere...
Most of the worst ones had been evacuated by the first response medics, the ones who needed an A&E but who could wait for surgery. One lad, Cal Cumming, had been caught in the centre of the blast. It was only five minutes from base, but he wasn't going to make it if I didn't operate-his radial artery had been severed, and it looked like everything from the shoulder down was done for. It was mangled, a real mess, so we set to work. We were trying to save as much of it as we could, then an order came through to evacuate. I insisted that I was going to stay behind and finish up, make sure it was done with before we evacuated him. He went off in a chopper once I was satisfied with how he looked, and we started packing up our kit and getting the ones who didn't make it ready to go back to base.
We should've gone when we had the order. It was a double tap: they wait until the medics are there, 'til you think the worst is over, then they detonate another bomb or ambush you. They started shooting as we were finishing up; everyone had put their guns away. One of the Cherry Berries got hit in the thigh, and I'd scrambled out from behind our cover to get him. I'd dragged him back and I was treating him. I'd managed to get the bleeding stopped, and I heard someone shout my name as I went to wrap him up. I shifted about and turned my head, and then the bullet hit me. If I hadn't have moved, it would have hit me through the heart.
It...it was the worst pain imaginable. Like fire and knives and a spinal tap all at once. I fell down, and tried to get up. I managed to sit up and yell for backup, told them to take him first, that I would take care of it myself. They trusted my opinion, so they left me. I looked down, I was a bit fuzzy from the blood loss at this point, and I wondered why I had prickles in my shoulder, like a porcupine. It wasn't spines. It was my collarbone. I was sick, then. I'd packed it, and used the pixie dust, but I couldn't reach the entry wound. I was reaching around, then I rolled over and everything just went white. I remember bits and pieces after that, but nothing concrete apart from when they found me. I heard someone yelling they'd "found him", and Bill saying my name. He sounded so desolate, I think he thought I'd died. It was sort of an, "Oh, John...oh, John, no. No, no, no, no, no!" A groan, really...
Next thing I knew I was waking up in Birmingham and being put out to grass. If you wanted the full story, you'd have to ask Bill. He's the one who found me after."
By now, John had pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes and hot tears of shame were trickling down his face. He looked up. Sherlock's eyes were watery too, and a long arm wrapped gently around his shoulders. Exhausted, John slumped bonelessly into Sherlock's tentative cuddle, feeling his eyes slide inexorably shut. The last thing he heard was a deep and rumbling voice just above his left ear.
"It's all fine, John. It's all fine."