Summary: Sequel to 'Once a Soldier' probably best to read that first. John and his squad are back in a done up base but something isn't right. It's up to John and Sherlock to find out what is going on and how they can get out of it.
Warnings: swearing, violence, blood
Rating: M
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, they belong to BBC Sherlock and Arthur Conan Doyle

AN- This as been a long time coming, I know. Big thanks to Valashu for giving me a proverbial kick up the arse I needed to get this going again. The title is shoddy, I know, but I couldn't think of anything else. If anyone has a better one let me know and I may change it, and give credit for the new name.

Afghan Sun

1

John Watson rolled his shoulders as he stood watching the Afghan sunrise. It was at times like this when John realised what he missed most about the battlefield in those years spent in London, where the tall buildings and almost constant cloud cover made sunrises something which occurred once in a blue moon. The doctor's injured shoulder twinged, it had been hurting more recently. John put it down to the extra stress he'd been putting on it, after all, he'd never truly 'healed', no matter what the army chose to believe. Still, it wasn't bad enough to warrant him being invalided home again and John wasn't going to let anyone realise the problems he was experiencing, they weren't even problems really. Just a twinge.

After the whole kidnapping scandal, Captain Watson and his whole squad had been given two weeks off to recuperate. Sherlock had been manhandled to the hospital part way through the circle time, sadly before he showed his scars, because in trying to escape from showing said scars he walked into three doors consecutively, talked to a chair and then started deducing the relationship between the floor and his shoes. The detective, of course, had thrown the mother of all fits but John was more than a match for a stroppy man-child with suspected concussion. The concussion was confirmed at the hospital but it was mild and Sherlock was allowed to leave two days later, once they were sure nothing serious would come about because of it.

Now, the squadron was reaching the end of the two weeks, and preparing to move back out. The same location had been set up in the same village as before, though it now had heightened security due to some high up in the system. John and Sherlock both knew who was behind it but they weren't going to complain about it. As much as they didn't like the interference of a certain big brother, it definitely had its uses.

"All packed up and ready to go, Captain?" Private Simmons piqued. John smiled in greeting.
"Yeh, everything set. What about you, Private?" He asked in return. The soldier nodded.
"Sorted everything yesterday. Thought I'd spend my last day relaxing. That's if Holmes doesn't give another of his lessons." John had managed to convince Sherlock to start teaching Arabic to the squad, mainly basic reading and speaking so that conversation in the village would be easier. As soon as he'd come up with the idea, the captain felt that it would go badly so he was very surprised when they started getting results.

Most of the squadron could now partake in a simple conversation in Arabic and could read simple instructions on signs. Sherlock was a good teacher, albeit a ruthless one. He could tell instantly who wasn't trying and gave them a tongue lashing. John had walked in to see Private Stevenson holding back tears as Sherlock growled about his time being wasted. The captain tried to make a sharp exit but the detective clocked him.
"Ah, John. I hardly think it fair that your squadron suffer me for hours on end while you escape scott free, even if you do have a small knowledge of the language." As Sherlock spoke, Stevenson saw his chance to bolt but a lightning fast hand grabbed his collar before he could escape.
"I really have too much to be going on with, Sherlock." John answered with a false smile, backing out of the room.
"Lies." Sherlock stated. "Take a seat, Watson. We have a lot to get through." With twenty one pairs of eyes trained on him, John knew he wasn't getting out of this one. With a sigh, he crumpled to the floor to sit with his legs loosely crossed, joining the others.