For John Watson

[howdull]

[Sherlock is still finding pieces of the melted laptop in the carpet.

It had actually been quite an ingenious booby trap to be devised by a fourteen year old boy with only household chemicals to work with but, as Sherlock surmised, rather overkill to keep his mother from finding his extensive porn collection. Not one of their more illustrious cases, but it had been quite entertaining to watch both the boy and mother's faces as he revealed that he did know the how and why. He lost interest after the mother started shouting and John started shouting and the whole thing turned tedious.

He rather thinks John won't actually be doing a full write-up of this one on his blog.

It's been two days since their last case and he's beginning to get more than a little antsy. Lestrade has sent him nothing, just a boring hit and run that he refused to even leave the flat for, and nobody interesting has appeared through the blog. Said blog he is currently scrolling through on John's laptop, having borrowed it again.

He did ask, it's not his fault John hadn't been in the room at the time.]

Bored, John.

[He doesn't even know if his flatmate is even in, but that's hardly a necessity for him to actually speak to John. Frustrated, he throws the laptop across the room to hit the wall, where it summarily breaks. Which is where he can be found whenever John appears, sulking amidst pieces of laptop, both from the melted one of their last case and John's poor broken one.]

Comments

[jumpthegun]

Okay. I'm assuming there's more than his word to go off of if we're at this point. Had Private Lawson been visited by anyone or received communications recently before that Tuesday?

[gallowshumour]

That information is currently classified, Captain.

[He's asking the questions here.]

I would like you to think very hard about the next question, which I'll ask only once more. Do you have anything you want to confess to regarding your tour in Afghanistan? I will remind you that a guilty plea often results in a more lenient sentence.

[jumpthegun]

I don't have to think about it, sir. I have some regrets about things that happened. I've lost good men under my command, and there have been times when operations didn't go to plan, but I have never committed war crimes. I've never tortured anyone. I've never detained civilians. And the only time I killed someone was when I was ordered to do so by a commander as part of an operation or in defense of my fellow servicemen or myself from enemy combatants.

[gallowshumour]

Very well.

[He isn't going to coerce a confession, he does things by the book.]

I would like you to tell me about the evening of November 19th 2009.

[If he can remember it, considering it likely wasn't a memorable date in reality.]

[jumpthegun]

[John frowns and glances upward.]

I don't remember anything about that particular date, sir. I'd have to check one of my old calendars to see what I was doing.

[gallowshumour]

Records show that you were out on manoeuvres in the Helmand Province between November 17th and November 21st, does that sound as thought it could be plausible to you?

[jumpthegun]

It certainly sounds plausible. Yes, sir.

[Hell if he can remember every single operation or foray.]

[gallowshumour]

Can you recall anything about those manoeuvres?

[jumpthegun]

[He's quiet again, as he tries to reach back. There are some gaps in his memories, ones he doesn't like to think about. But he doesn't think there's anything missing from around that time. After about half a minute, John shakes his head.]

No, sir. I'm afraid I can't remember anything particular. If I new who was one maneuvers with me at the time, it might jog something, but three years can run together sometimes.

[gallowshumour]

[He nods, but he doesn't provide any further information on who was with him. He just puts three more pictures in front of him; one that's a building, generic, the sort that had been everywhere in that area, and the other two of men clearly local to the area.]

Do you recognise this location and these men?

knew and on... wow, I can type

[jumpthegun]

[John studies the photographs closely, as he had with the picture of the burned dog tags.]

It looks like something in area, but I don't specifically recognize that building or those two men. We sometimes had guides or interpreters with us, though. Got to know a few of them, but not all of them.

[gallowshumour]

[He takes out another photograph, this one showing one of the two men and John in camouflage uniform walking down a street together. It's not the clearest picture, but it is obviously John.]

How about now?

[jumpthegun]

[His brow furrows deeper as he struggles to recall anything, whatsoever, about the man he's walking beside. Then, he closes his eyes for a moment and mentally shuffles through the roster of native Afghans he'd gotten to know. When John opens his eyes again and refocuses on the General, he looks confused, unsettled.]

No, sir. I don't remember walking with that man.

[gallowshumour]

But you can positively identify yourself in that photograph?

[He sets another one down beside the first one, this one enlarged to show John better. It's blurrier, because of the zoom, but still him.]

[jumpthegun]

I'm hesitant to say that's actually me when I don't remember those circumstances or those men, sir. It certainly looks like me, but I've seen doctored photographs before.

[Just never with himself as the subject.]

[gallowshumour]

[The General raises an eyebrow, but he doesn't argue back, that's not his role today.]

Very well. Can you confirm that you are a fully qualified and licensed doctor, specialising in trauma surgery? Would you say that this makes you an expert in the area of wounds that could be caused by guns, knives, and other weaponry?

[jumpthegun]

I'm qualified and licensed with a specialty in trauma surgery. I think expert would be more of a legal distinction applied by a lawyer in this case, though, sir. I'd like to think I can tell one type of wound from another if a body isn't too badly destroyed, though. I'm certainly not a forensics specialist.

[gallowshumour]

Didn't you say that you were currently employed as an assistant to a detective who works with the police force? What manner of assistance do you supply?

[Sounds forensic to him.]

[jumpthegun]

Whatever he asks for, sir. I take notes, fetch things, organize client meetings, and sometimes assist him in the lab. He's had me examine bodies before, but it's ultimately the police forensics team that will determine a cause of death. I can offer him general advisory services, but I've never been asked to testify as a witness to my opinion in a court, is what I mean.

[gallowshumour]

[The general nods, satisfied on that for now. Jim, who has been mostly quiet up to now, leans forwards to interject. His voice is low and calm, professional.]

Dr. Watson, would you say that you might have recognition issues, or memory troubles?

[There's an implied 'after all, you did think I was an IT technician' in there.]

Is it possible that you might have met this man and forgotten?

[jumpthegun]

[John had been settling a bit, but bristles when Jim insinuates himself again.]

I do not have recognition issues. [Memory troubles are... they're spotty. He'd told Ella he'd lost some things from over in Afghanistan. Some of the raids or skirmishes, he would remember the start of them, then nothing, really, until he picked up again that they were heading back to base. Flashes of faces, buildings that came in his dreams, but he couldn't put names to.]

[The question does remind him, though...]

Wait. You said you hadn't been informed I wasn't told something. [He looks from Jim to the General, then back to Jim.] What wasn't I told about? [Something about the paranoid delusions.]

[gallowshumour]

I'm very sorry, Doctor Watson, but it's not my place to tell you that.

[Jim offers him an ingratiating smile with just the tiniest hint of amusement behind it.]

It was unprofessional of me to have mentioned anything in the first place, my apologies.

[jumpthegun]

[If looks could kill, Jim would be having a coronary about now. Or spontaneously combusting.]

You are ostensibly my lawyer for the moment, Jim. Maybe stop being a withholding git and answer me.

[gallowshumour]

I'm sorry, Doctor, but I'm afraid I can't.

[Jim's smile just gets more apologetic as John makes a spectacle of himself.]

[jumpthegun]

[This isn't getting him anywhere. John balls his hands into fists and turns his attention back to the General. He wants to hit something. He wants to hit Jim, really. But that's not going to help his case, and the doctor is aware he's being goaded, however politely.]

From his non-answer, may I assume you've gotten hold of my therapist's notes, sir? I'm pretty sure she never said I was delusional, but I dunno what she was writing.

[Paranoid. Well.]