bakerstreet | Away at War / Left Behind

Away at War / Left Behind

Left Behind: Away at War/Battle

Da da da dadadadadadada, charge!

We all know war can be a hard time for everyone but those left behind? It can be torture. Hoping you get a letter or a call, staying glued to the television and cringing at those news stories. Guess what happens to you now? Your loved one has gone off to fight a war (battle, fight, in that ilk of things) and some time has passed. Sadly the letters and e-mails have stopped so you are left wondering the fate of your loved one. What do you do? Do you move on or are you holding on to hope they'll come back?

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6. Angst away!

One: You get a call, or you get a knock at the door. You are told the person you love is dead and you feel like your whole world has caved in. The healing takes time but after awhile you pick up the pieces and you've finally moved on. You've never forgotten them and you know they'd want you to be happy. Then one day you get another call and you feel like you've been punched in the gut. Surprise! Your loved one is alive and has been rescued. What do you do now? Or if you are the one returning home how do you handle knowing the person you love is with another? Do you try to get them back? Or do you let them stay happy and walk away?

Two: You are so relieved to hear that they've found your loved one. You go to the hospital to see them but when you go to kiss them they stop you. Oh...wait...they have a big chunk of their memory gone. Oh no! Can you get them to remember your lives together? Does it hurt too much that you walk away rather than deal with it? You with the memory loss do you try to find yourself letting this person guide you. Do you refuse and walk away? Are those memories ever return, or are they gone forever?

Three: They have come back safe and sound. Though they cringe away from your touch and can be a little violent. Something about them has changed because of what they've seen. They rarely sleep and when they do they wake up screaming. The intimacy seems to be gone because you can't seen to get close to them. Can you handle it? Can you work with them? Or have you had enough? Do you leave? The returnee how do you feel? Do you wish you could just hold them and be normal again? Do you seek help or think you can handle it yourself?

Four: Even before they left it was as if the love was gone between the two of you. Plans have been made to break-up or divorce but after the hell they went through? You feel obligated to stay. You try your best to rekindle what was lost but it's gone. Finally you are at the breaking point and it's time to tell your significant other that it's over. You want to end it. Either one of you has this feeling and are acting to end the charade. Ready to break it to the hometown hero or to your sweetheart that waited for you?

Five: You've lost them and it was just too much for you. People have told you to move on yet you never could. Now you get a call. They've been found but it's unclear if they'll make it. Better hurry and rush to their side just in case. You don't want them to go without you getting to tell them one last time you love them just in case. Alternately you are injured and you know it might be the end and you refuse surgery until you get to see them one last time. You want them to know you love them.

Six: You lost your other half and you still aren't over it. Might be that little one asleep in the other room that has their eyes or smile. You are always reminded of what you lost when you look at that. The sad part is you never got to tell them the good news. Never got to hear their excitement. Or maybe you had an adoption in motion and were just waiting and it happened while they were gone. It still reminds you of what you and your love had planned for their future. Then you get the call they were found, and now you are nervous. How will they get along with their child? Will they still want that life? How do you take it the first time you see your eyes when looking at the child?

Seven: Finally news comes in and they've been found and you couldn't be happier. They were injured pretty badly and had to undergo surgery. They are alive but they've lost a limb or one of their senses. How do you two deal with this? Do you try to work on it together? Do you leave unable to handle it? Or let your loved one go so they can have a normal life? It'll be a long stressful road, can the relationship survive? For better or for worse?

Eight: Make up your own if I've missed something.

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[Well, this certainly wasn't good. He stepped forward, then, a slow and tentative pace, to stand beside where the other man was kneeling.

On the bright side, it was a nice headstone. He's seen worse. Even if it is a bit simple.]

What, no weekly visits? Flowers on my grave? Robert Frost recitations?

[That, too, is light and almost teasing, a slight smile tugging at his mouth.

It disappears almost instantly.

Carefully, hesitantly, he pressed a hand to Sherlock's shoulder.]

You... do realize I'm standing right here?

[Sherlock huffs his reply to the questions.]

Sentiment.

[But then, there's a hand on his shoulder. He slowly looks up, then falls away as he sees John. He backs away, but it stopped by the headstone next to John's.]

No! It... can't be....

[He closes his eyes and rubs his temples - not unlike he did in Dartmoor all that time ago.]

[Sentiment indeed. He wasn't actually expecting it, but seeing Sherlock's reaction to the implication was hilarious nonetheless.

Or it would be, if he wasn't so sure his friend thought himself to be having a mental breakdown.

He doesn't move closer, because freaking his friend out isn't going to help matters.]

It can. It is, in fact. Right here. Come on, then. Suss it out- I never died. Not sure I want to know what you put in the casket, as a matter of fact.

I saw you fall.... I saw your body surrounded by blood...

[He closes his eyes to try to piece it together.]

But not hit....

[He opens them, a fire has returned that wasn't there moments ago and his voice becomes dangerous.]

Who helped you?

[Sorry, John, no way Sherlock is going to believe you did this yourself.]

You saw a body.

[And he's sorry. He really is. It was the only way, though. He was there, right there as Moriarty explained it all, fed them lies and went on and on about his snipers, his gunmen, his assassins, how he'd have them killed and everyone they cared about. Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson, his sister.

He pursed his lips together. So much happened in this last year and a half. So many things, shady things that he's not exactly proud of. He shook his head slowly.]

Doesn't matter. It's done. I finished it. They're dead.

Molly.

[He practically growls the name. He looks up at John and then moves quickly, flinging himself at John in an attempt to takle John to the ground. All this happens as he screams.]

I.THOUGHT.YOU.WERE.DEAD!!!!

[Well. He figured that out quick. Poor Molly. At least she doesn't have to worry about being tackled to the ground.

Which he wasn't expecting either, so he goes down easily, his back hitting the grass and knocking the breath out of him. It takes him a second for his vision to clear, and he grips Sherlock's lapels and heaves out a cough from the impact.]

I know- I'm- [A wheeze.] sorry, I had to, it was the only thing keeping you alive.

[Sherlock then wraps his fists into John's lapels. But what John says makes him pause - sometimes being a genius works against him. But all fight goes out of him as he speaks.]

You're sorry you kept me alive?

[Because, logically that is was John just said... sort of.]

[That actually draws him up short, and he binks. Tilts his head to the side, grass sticking into his hair.]

What? No-

[Stupid geniuses. He gives the grip on Sherlock's coat a little reprimanding jerk.]

I'm sorry for hurting you, you idiot. If I could have told you, I would've.

Oh.

[Idiot, indeed. Sherlock takes a calming breath, then slowly sits up, helping John to sit up too, if he needs it.]

Eighteen months....

[He does sit up, stiffly tugging his leg up a little as well to rest his elbow on. Granted, the limp was psychosomatic, but the stress of this last year... It's been tough.

He passes a hand over his face and turns his gaze toward the ground.]

I know.

[He does. Eighteen months was a long time. Forever, really.]

But I finished it. That's what matters.

How did you finish it?

[He doesn't give John a chance.]

No. Why didn't you tell me? I could have helped...

[He pulls a face at the question. And thank you, Sherlock, for that brilliant vote of confidence.]

I can understand how it might be a shock for you to know that other people are, in fact, capable of accomplishing things without your help.

[It's mostly teasing, but this isn't something he intends to make light of. It was a year and a half of hell. He shook his head.]

You can't have gotten involved. They would have killed you. As long as they thought you were suffering, put in your place, they'd have waited. The second you posed a threat... He hand things in place you wouldn't believe. Contingency plans for contingency plans.

[He breathed out a sigh. It was a lot like war in that respect. The thing is, he was good at war. He was a soldier.]

Most of them thought I was dead. It's probably what kept me alive.

I don't understand... The kidnapped kids, the article....

[He looked John up and down.]

How did you... [He growls again.] Mycroft. So did everyone know but me?

[He considers the question for a second.

Chews on his cheek.]

I think we forgot to tell Mrs. Hudson?

[What seems like a thousand emotions flutter across Sherlock's features in a few brief seconds. Suddenly he stands.]

Yes. Well...

[And he turns to leave. More trying to run away from himself than John.]

[It takes him a second, he has to blink before he realizes Sherlock's taking off, and he hobbles up to his feet right behind the other man.]

Wait, really? What, that's it?

[He can't tell if Sherlock is angry, or if he's really just... over this whole ordeal and moving on already.]

[As Sherlock's strides lengthen and his feet find the ground more firmly, it's clear that he's leaving in anger. After a few steps he pauses.]

That's it. So much to do, since everyone else knew but me...

[That's the part that really hurt. Not John jumping, not even John lying to him, but that everyone else knew but him.]

...It's clear you don't need me.

[...or want me...]

[So that's what it is. Couldn't stand to be out of the loop because he could have executed this whole thing so much better than John. Is that it? Is that how it's going to be? He stalks forward, picking up his pace to match Sherlocks.]

Now, hang on just a moment-

[And then the second statement hits. It's clear you don't need me.

...What? His gate falters for just a second.]

You can't seriously be that big of an idiot. Don't need you? Why on earth d'you think I've done all this? What, you think I spent a year and a half going through hell just for a laugh? Have you even been paying attention to anything I've-

[He cuts himself off and shakes his head. Passes a hand over his mouth.]

You are the stupidest smart person I know.

[Sherlock does stop and turns to face John. He quietly - seemingly emotionless - takes it all in. He thinks about John's last statement and responds to that.]

Quite possibly. Eighteen months is a long time... I think I am loosing mental capacity with age.

[He means, "You did this to me, John, and I don't know how to recover."]

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Away at War / Left Behind

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