Fic for Prompt #13: “I Had Bad Days.”

[ariadne_chan]

Title: “I Had Bad Days.”
Author: ariadnechan
Rating: PG.
Fandom: Sherlock BBC.
Characters: John Watson, Bill Murray and Fifth in passing
Summary: “Whatever ability he learnt it was never enough. Bad days always can get worse, more people died, and John couldn't stop them all so he didn't stop learning. With more skills than he was required to have, John was eventually transferred to special ops.”
Warnings: War environment and situations.
Word Count: 505 approx.
Author's Notes: watsons_woes Prompt #13:
One of those days: Murphy's Law says that when things can go wrong, they will.
This one is a companion piece of “The Captain, John Watson.” As a little prequel of that one.
Beta: Edited betead but my friend the amazing trista_zevkia




John knows that when something would go wrong; of course it's not going to go wrong by itself. Watson's woes seemed to come in groups. That was especially true during the war most days than the less, so John started from the first bad day to prepare for the next. He was good at shooting things since the Royal Academy, but hand to hand combat was not his forte. So he trained with everyone he could and learnt everything anyone wanted to teach him. Someday, he figured, this extra training could be handy.


Obviously because war was a bitch, someday, shooting and hand to hand wasn't enough. John lost more men that he could have stand to, so he learnt to fight and throw knives with lad from another regiment, ex-member of an street gang. John also taught to everyone who wanted to some medical care, medic-care that was better for in the field than what they were teaching at the academy.


Whatever ability he learnt it was never enough. Bad days always can get worse, more people died, and John couldn't stop them all so he didn't stop learning. With more skills than he was required to have, John was eventually transferred to special ops. Suddenly he was in ‘The Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers’ a regiment who supposedly didn't exist since some time after the second world war.


There John was doctor and captain under the orders of Colonel Alexander Preston and they did rescue and dangerous scout ops deep in enemy territory. The bad days there were really bad Murphy had a fest with John Watson and his men.


Soon even Preston was off the picture and John had to take control of the regiment with his friend Bill Murray as his second. Everyone in the Fifth was at least once tortured, rescued, given for dead, stabbed, and had too many closed calls to count. So how were the odds for their last assignment been the worse? Every one of them.

Out of the entire Fifth only John and Bill had survived their last scout mission. John had tried to save them all and lost them all, getting himself shot at while trying to save the youngest of their group, the lad wasn't in the Fifth more than six month, and John didn't want to lose him too, so John ran to him and ignored Bill’s cries, he went anyway. Everything fade to black after he had started to work on little Steve's leg. On a daze at done he remembered asking “Please God let me live.” Before fading to black again, even he really this time felt more lulled to sleep into a gold and warm blanket of unconditional compassion and love.

He didn't know how many time or days it took the rescuers to come. And Bill was the only one who never took any of his extra classes on med-care. So his wound got infected, his mind ravaged by fever got lost in pain and sorrow. The injury of little Steve was adopted in his mind, so he couldn't walk properly and his hand got a tremor that he didn't need there. When he woke up to reality and understood what had happened, he knew he was screwed.

Murphy was indeed a bloody bitch!