Apart

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After uni, Sherlock went on to be the best scientist in London, while John went on to be the best doctor. They moved in together at 221B Baker Street after Sherlock mentioned the lovely landlady, Mrs. Hudson. He told John all about what she got up to in her younger years and how her husband ran a cartel. He also told John that she used to be his babysitter at one point.

While at work, a few of John's colleagues got to talking about shipping out to Afghanistan to help the wounded. They asked if John wanted to go with them, to which he immediately said yes to.

Later, John remembered that he'd have to tell Sherlock about it, and he was not going to be happy. Not one bit.

John sighed as his taxi pulled up in front of their flat. He was not looking forward to this conversation. He got out, unlocked the door, then stepped inside.

"Sherlock, I'm home!"

John waited a moment for a sign that Sherlock was also home. When he heard a faint thud he shook his head.

"Whatever you're up to, it better be cleaned up after you're done!"

He walked up the steps and into their living room. Sherlock stood in the middle of the room, frowning.

"What's wrong?" John asked.

Sherlock huffed. "I can't find my other sock."

John laughed and went to sit down on the sofa.

He turned serious now. "Sherlock, I need to tell you something."

Sherlock looked over at John and frowned. "What?"

"Some of my colleagues at work have asked me if I wanted to join them in tending to the wounded in . . . in Afghanistan."

Sherlock shook his head. "No, absolutely not."

"Sherlock -"

"No. I cannot lose you, John. That's a war zone right now."

"I know -"

"John please -"

"I already said yes."

Sherlock's eyes widened and his eyes watered.

"Y-you what?"

"I said yes. I have to go, Sherlock. I have to. I'm a doctor, it's in my blood to help people. I just - I have to."

"But what about me, us? What if you -" he stopped.

John stood and walked over to Sherlock. He placed his hands on either side of Sherlock's face, his thumbs caressing the soft, pale skin.

"I will be extra careful. I will be fine. I will be out of the danger zone at all times. They will be bringing the people to me, love. I won't even leave the tent."

"N-no . . . please don't go. Please. I need you here," Sherlock sobbed. He'd never lost himself like this before. Ever.

"I know, love. I know. But I have to. You probably don't understand -"

"I never do -"

"But you will. One day, you will. But for now, I leave in two weeks. We have two weeks together until I fly out there for a few months."

"Months?!"

"Just three. Only three, I promise."

Sherlock's entire body shook.

"I've never been without you for less than two weeks, how am I going to do three months?"

"You will. You can," John said. "The moment I'm finished, I'm coming home. The very moment, do you hear me? But this is important to me, my love. I'll write to you every day, I promise. Please don't be upset," he kissed Sherlock's cheek and held him close.

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