Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing

Authors Notes: Strong tones of Holmes/Watson friendship/brotherhood.

Warnings – I discuss the vile practice of men preying on young boys for unsavoury purposes in this one – and Holmes comes to the wrong conclusion (I can't say anything else cos it'll ruin the suspense). Just thought that you should know that topic comes up later on; nothing graphic is described though.

Medals Not Worn In Public

Epilogue – Holmes

We had to wait another month before our Watson was returned to us. In the meantime, Tommy was established in a reputable chemist – a former client who took a liking to the boy's wit and street-wise ways. My former Irregular would never be a doctor, but it was not beyond his reach to rise to a position where he could dispense medicines… a poor second some might say, but for a child of the streets it was an achievement of stellar proportions.

My 'troops' had welcomed him back with open arms. Once the facts of the matter were known to them, all was forgiven. It seemed that they all considered themselves at Watson's complete disposal and although they would have preferred that word had been left to reassure them; they understood that circumstances had played against Watson's hand this time. Tommy's additional comments as to his role as carer for my doctor – and his subsequent description of Watson's failing health – drew a line under the matter.

Mycroft had been surprised by the information that my Boswell had been the man who summoned me, though Her Majesty had not. She had twinkled at my older brother with regal mischief and informed him that She was surprised he had not deduced who Her Major was. The look on my elder brother's face was more than amusing, and it had been with difficulty that I had contained my laughter. Thankfully young Tommy had already been dismissed after his brief audience with Her Majesty, leaving behind his coat and its contents; I shudder to think of his reaction in a place where decorum of the highest order was required. I had of course deduced that Watson was the officer Her Majesty had dispatched – who better than my Boswell to carry out such a delicate and dangerous mission for his Monarch?

Her Majesty condescended to assure me that my doctor was safe enough and had assumed command of the Regiment with no opposition. Events were already in movement to secure the last of the officers that had opposed Her Majesties interests and besmirched her honour, with Watson overseeing it all. I was promised the return of my dearest friend in 'due course', an inaccurate and vague timeline, but one could not argue with one's Monarch over such matters… at least not with impunity. As we were leaving I made the mistake of asking my brother how it was that a Major could supplant a Colonel so easily in command and was given one of those withering looks that elder brothers seem to specialise in. Despite Watson's involvement in it, I had not taken the time to learn much about the command structure of Her Majesties forces beyond the obvious progression of ranks, as the knowledge was not important to my work. Watson certainly never alluded to his time serving under the Shilling unless it was somehow relevant to the work at hand.

"He's a Major General Sherlock," Mycroft growled, "Don't be obtuse."

He had clearly expected me to be shocked that my dearest friend had risen so quickly and so high in Her Majesties forces, but I was not. In fact it now made sense. Of course Watson was a highly promoted and respected officer… he was Watson. You only had to meet the man to know that he was a cut above the rest.

The newspapers were soon reporting the scandal, which rapidly became the talk of London. Mrs Hudson took to reading the papers with me over the breakfast table, a liberty I allowed as she was so obviously concerned for our missing doctors well-being. Tommy had not been as discrete as I would have liked when describing his worries for his 'fathers' health. This had in turn alarmed our landlady. As Watson was the one more accustomed to soothing her worries and alarums, his absence was even more keenly felt by us both, though I did make an attempt in my own fashion to reassure her. I am not sure that it was entirely successful.

My dear friend arrived home without fanfare or warning. As Mrs Hudson was clearing away the breakfast things there was the scrape of a cab wheel outside our windows and I crossed to glance down in curiosity. I had been expecting Gregson today – he'd been struggling with a small ring of petty thieves for a few days now and was due to visit and request my assistance. Instead of the tow headed Inspector, my Watson alighted from the cab, dressed in the evening clothes he had been wearing when he first departed from Baker Street nearly six months ago.

"Watson!" I cried and startled Mrs Hudson into almost dropping the breakfast tray. I relieved her of it on my way past, taking the stairs two at a time and depositing the thing on the hall table outside her room. She was already at the door when I turned, flinging it open as Watson descended from the cab and tossed up his fare. Her cry of delight turned to a cry of dismay as she got her first look at her itinerant tenant, my own reaction not far behind hers.

The evening clothes that had fit him so well six months ago now hung from his frame. He was pale beneath the tropical tan that had once more burned him 'brown as a nut', and he relied on his cane more than I would like as he crossed the pavement and entered our front hall.

"I'll be having words with your commanding officer, young man!" Mrs Hudson was scolding, her arm already around Watson's as she lead him to the stairs, "Mr Holmes, nip ahead and fetch a change of clothes for the doctor, then run him a bath. I'll have a note for Dr Anstruther by the time you're done."

"Really, Mrs Hudson, that's not necessary. Old chap, you needn't bother…" Watson's protests fell upon deaf ears as I hurried to do my landlady's bidding. He looked worse than he had when he first moved into Baker Street, though at least this time there were no…

"Mrs Hudson! Mind his left side! He's been wounded there!" I called down the stairs behind me, realising that the stiffness I had seen in his movements portrayed a Watson protecting an injury, not a Watson stiff from a long journey. Watson's protests trailed off in the face of our landlady's scolds and by the time they reached the bathroom the geyser was bubbling away and Watson's nightclothes were resting on the dresser.

"Put him in my room, Mrs Hudson. I'll go fetch Anstruther at once," I breezed past with a pat to Watson's right shoulder, "I'll be back soon, old chap, try and rest."

"Holmes, this is really unnecessary," Watson muttered, but as he was still leaning heavily on his cane I ignored him as a matter of course.

The cab I had summoned with a shrill whistle trotted towards me as I brooded over a sharply worded reprimand on the issue of borrowing my Boswell and failing to return him to me in pristine condition. I could never send it of course, but there were other ways of expressing my disproval. The Premier, for instance, may find me less than inclined to drop everything for his next little problem…

0o0o0o0

The End

(Yes, I'm seriously leaving it there.)

Explanation: there is a lot of debate over Watson's participation as a member of the Medical Corp in WWI – some say there is no way they'd send an old man that had already been invalided out of the Army back to the Front Line, and others say that of course Watson would be in the thick of it, he's Watson.

This is my take on why Watson would be serving in WWI – not just because he would want to take the place of a young man and spare him the horrors of war, but because he was such a valuable asset that he would be deployed where he could do the most good – as a spy as well as a doctor. From there it seemed natural that Holmes would know about this… you know it all made sense in my head! Hope it was entertaining at least… let me know what you think?

Oh, and the title comes from the idea that Watson would have been promoted with honours (medals) that he never showed to anyone because of his modest nature… (hope that clears that up!)