Supermerwholock One Shots

John X Reader - The Military Story of The Captain and The Medic

*Set during John's service in Afghanistan.*
The minute you saw him, you knew he could help. You tried to press on your wound harder, as you'd been trained, and you willed your legs to move you towards the medical tent.
Every step was agony. For your entire journey away from the site of your injury, you had held your tongue, determined not to give away your location to those who had hurt you. Now, as you stepped into the tent, you allowed the pain to take over your vocal cords.
As your foot lifted, your mouth unleashed an ungodly screech of sheer agony. He saw you immediately. He ran to you as the pain commandeered your legs, causing you to fall to the ground. He caught you prior to your landing, helping you to maintain pressure on your wound. He called for assistance, though he needn't have. Everyone in the base had heard your cry of agony.
A team of medics all lifted you and carried you to a bed. He saw your tags as they slid around on your sweat-soaked chest. Afghanistan was an unforgiving place and you were wounded. "Hold on, soldier," he told you. "Stay with me and you'll be just fine."
"Cut the bull, sir," you told him, in too much pain for formalities. "Get me in theatre if you have to. Just don't waste your energy and time on making me comfy."
He looked to the other medics. "Does she need theatre?" he asked. They all nodded.
"Yes sir," came one reply. "To get the bullet, sir."
"Right. Get her prepped. This is an emergency op." He turned to you. "You are going to tell me exactly what happened as soon as you're out. Okay, soldier?"
"Yes sir!" you exclaimed a little too vigorously, with too quick an arm movement. Immediately afterwards, you tried to curl into foetal position. The medics held you flat.
"Don't worry, soldier. I've seen the best of soldiers curl into that position out of pain. I'll soon have you back on form, at your blood-curdling best."
Immediately before they anaesthetised you, you managed a single sentence, enough to provoke even the most boring, stony-faced of officers into action. "Prove it." Then, with a third of a countdown from ten, you were out like a light.

They had you in theatre for quite a while. The bullet was in an awkward place. They ended up having to make another wound in your back in order to get the bullet out without further damaging your body.

He was there when you woke up. Mainly out of a medical capacity, due to him having just operated on you, but you still felt a little sentiment there.
"Oh, good," he said as he saw you wake. "So we didn't accidentally send you into a coma. Always good."
You started to laugh, glad that he was trying not to be macabre. You knew that your situation had been a dire one. However, the pain eventually overtook your laughter, turning it to a hacking cough.
Immediately, he propped you up on your pillows and handed you a glass of water. You took the glass and drank huge gulps. "Thank you, sir." You sat and thought for a moment. "I'm probably going to be court martialed when I'm out of here."
"How come?"
"In order to get here and get the bullet out, I was forced to abandon my post. But I was the highest ranking officer there. There was no 'higher up' to inform."
"Well, they can't court martial you. Because you were wounded in the line of duty and had to make a split second decision in order to stay alive for your team. If needs be, I will testify for you in a hearing. But I doubt there will be one." Seeing as you had finished your water, he took the glass from you. Then, he spoke. "Now, you rest and let your body heal you. I'll make sure you are checked on routinely." He got up and made to leave your bedside. He stopped. He turned to face you. "Oh, I'm Doctor John Watson, by the way. How about you? If I'm going to continue your treatment, I'm going to need your name. I can't just call you 'soldier'."
He was rambling, though mainly so that you didn't speak too much and use up your energy. You smiled at that thought. "I'm Captain (y/n) (l/n). Soldier would probably do just fine for addressing me, but there are quite a few other patients and medics."
"Well, Captain (y/n), I'm glad that I will have the honour of treating you." He checked his clock, pinned to his scrubs. "And that's me officially done for the day. I recommend sleep and I'll check up in the morning..." He saw your blank, almost despondent, expression. "Unless you have any questions?"
"Well... It's kinda stupid, but, my team and I have a... tradition. When any of us are in a new base-camp, we... uhm... Well, we have someone sit up with us, familiarise us with our surroundings and... keep us company."
You saw his expression, which you immediately assumed was disdain at the childish idea. You knew it was childish, but you had known these guys since they were eighteen, so it sort of made sense that that sort of thing would become tradition.
"Because I command a load of wimpy, scrawny-ass whinge-pots. Plus, I've known them since their first day in the army, when they were eighteen..." Your voice trailed as you gave up trying to explain to Doctor Watson.
"No need to explain. It's probably quite useful... Finding out as much about your new surroundings as quickly as possible... Especially in the army." It transpired that your explanation was entirely unnecessary.
"So..." you hesitated. "Will you stay up with me?" You rushed to attempt to regain a little composure. "If it's not a problem for you. If you don't have to rush off anywhere, that is."
"Yes, Captain (y/n), I'll sit up with you tonight."