AN: Some of you may have read the note on my profile – if not, do, please – explaining that my online accounts – here, deviantart, hotmail, etc – have had an uninvited (sort of) user. All that is now sorted, and anything and everything posted here is written by and posted by me. All previous fiction was mine, but posted by a friend due to my sporadic internet access. I now have proper internet again, and she is in disgrace.

On to the story then. This is sort of four and one – four times John wanted to save anyone and everyone, and one time he wanted to save someone very specific. Rated for a teeny bit of language and a kiss.

Charlotte x.

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock.

When he was six years old, John Watson told his big sister Harriet that he wanted to be a policeman. Harriet laughed, ruffled his hair, and said that if that's what he wants to be, that's what he'll be. John turned to leave the room, and then turned back, looking at his sister with a curious expression, and asked her what she wanted to be when she was grown up. Harry considered for a minute, then walked over to the window and fussed with the tie backs on the floral curtains. Finally, she answered. "I just want to be happy"

Eight years later, John was at secondary school, Harry was engaged – so happy – and the Careers Guidance Councillor asked him what he wanted to be. Unlike all the other pupils, who shrugged and muttered "dunno" or else replied "footballer", "hairdresser", "famous", John smiled at the woman and explained to her that, when he was little, he wanted to be a policeman, because then he could help people. But maybe not enough people. He didn't want to be a fire fighter, because that meant climbing ladders, and he hated heights. So what did that leave? "I want to be a doctor."

Four years later, and John was just starting Uni. Harry and Clara now owned a house, and were even happier than before, Harry had even stopped drinking. John loved the medical course he was on – even if it wasn't the one he'd originally chosen. This one was aimed towards a career in the army, rather than the bloodless surgery specialization he'd considered for several months. Which is probably why Harry asked him – for the first and last time – what he actually wanted. John rolled his eyes, and gave her a one-armed hug. "I want to help people, however I can."

When John was in Afghanistan – up to his elbows in blood ten times a day – he never really got asked if he wanted to do something, he was told what to do and expected to do it. In fact, only once during his whole tour of duty was he given a choice, and even then it was limited. He could either go with his platoon and keep them alive, or stay here and ensure his own safety. John's answer didn't vary from his previous ones. "I'll go with the platoon. I'm not here for me; I want to save people."

John is standing in a cold, darken swimming pool, next to a sociopath who probably didn't know what it meant to be happy. His sister has split from her wife, his parents are dead, and at least a dozen snipers are aiming at them. So when Sherlock turns to him and asks what he wants him to do, John's answer is selfish, but it's honest. He pulls Sherlock close, kisses him, and replies "I want you to be happy." Sherlock smiles back, kisses back, turns to face Moriarty, and aims the gun at the vest. Then replies: "I already am"

AN: Want more? Review!