A/N: Apologies for the delay. I don't think I've updated this story for at least two years if not more. I wrote this after S1 aired, since I think it's safe to say my Sherlock muse is officially dead.

The sky was a clear blue, unusual for London, especially in November. It was only slightly chilly; all in all, a perfect fall day.

John hated it. He tried not to; he knew it was irrational. As his flatmate would say, "It's the weather. It exists. Ignore it; it isn't relevant." But still, John thought it was somehow an insult that the sun should be shining when so many of his comrades would never see it again.

He glanced up at Sherlock walking next to him. He still wasn't sure why Sherlock had agreed to come to the Remembrance Day memorial with him. Sherlock had hardly even argued, surprising John to no small degree. He'd fully expected to have to pull Sherlock kicking and screaming all the way to the ceremony. But Sherlock strode alongside John, with his coat swirling out dramatically behind him as usual. Unusually, he was quiet, as if he realized that today was not the day to argue.

As John took his place with the other veterans for the ceremony, Sherlock stepped back into the crowd. There were veterans represented from every war Sherlock could think of: World War II, the recent events in Iraq and Afghanistan (which he only knew about because of John. And Mycroft. A little). A few from the…Falklands conflict? That was a war, wasn't it? He'd have to ask John.

The ceremony started; it was the usual mix of pompous music and speeches by officials pretending they knew what they were talking about. Sherlock had been forced to attend enough of this sort of thing by Mycroft to know the routine. Still, he watched John carefully. The ex-Army doctor had been much quieter this week; he hadn't even yelled at Sherlock after finding a halfway-decomposed hand in the silverware drawer. He'd also been rubbing his shoulder when he thought no one was looking, and had even pulled out his cane last night to make it up the stairs. Sherlock's conclusion: John was bored and the proximity to Remembrance Day meant his thoughts turned to his time in Afghanistan, and his fellow soldiers who hadn't survived.

He saw John salute somewhat painfully along with the rest of the veterans as the memorial wreath was brought forward. People in the crowd around Sherlock wiped away tears; he supposed they must have lost someone in one war or another.

Sherlock observed the ceremony detachedly. The closest he ever got to war was that his brother was usually responsible for starting them. Each year previously he'd ignored Remembrance Day as yet another meaningless ritual.

So why was this year the first time he ever felt differently? Slightly guilty, even, about how he'd ignored it in the past? Sherlock was not accustomed to guilt in any way, and he didn't like it. But he couldn't ignore it.

The official leading the ceremony turned around and announced that the flag was going to be raised; calling for two minutes of silence. Sherlock saw John bow his head and knew he must have been thinking of his regiment. Sherlock only knew one of their names; Murray, who had saved John from that last battle. He wondered how many of John's other army friends had survived. Or hadn't. With a shock, Sherlock realized that John had been at war last Remembrance Day. While he'd been busy ignoring everything, on a case, maybe, or sulking in his rooms, John had been fighting for his life. With soldiers around him, killing and dying. John had had this whole other life that Sherlock had never even thought about.

Sherlock suppressed a shudder. Few things had the power to disturb him, but the thought that John had come so close to being killed in action chilled him through. He bowed his head quickly, in thanks. He wasn't sure to whom, exactly, or to what, since he didn't believe in God, but he had to be grateful to something for the lucky chance that had saved John Watson and sent him into Sherlock's life.

As the two minutes ended, John looked up to see Sherlock open his eyes and look up also. He wondered why for a moment; Sherlock didn't believe in symbolic gestures. But then, this was Sherlock. He was probably just reviewing case files in his head to keep himself from getting bored.

John didn't know that as he was sitting in silence, remembering all those who didn't survive, Sherlock was sitting in silent gratitude for one who did.