A month or so after the bomb at the pool.

Moriarty had not been found.

No cases of great interest had come up.

Sherlock was getting bored.

He didn't realize, of course, that an event more captivating and time consuming than anything he had ever done was about to occur…

"What?" Sherlock couldn't help himself from showing some emotion and asking a completely illogical question. Although he could hear and he had heard what John had just told him and it wasn't too shocking considering John's demeanour as he slogged into the room, the news turned out to be completely unbearable.

"I'm being deployed to Iraq. I'm surprised I had to say that twice. Do you need your hearing checked?" John chuckled, very weakly, and finished his teasing. The transition was going to be rough for him as well.

Sherlock tensed and felt very cold, calmed himself, then sat down slowly on the couch. He was quiet for a moment, his hands clenching, then unclenching, then clenching again as his mind processed the information. His hard drive was unexpectedly slow.

"How long?" the machine was finally able to emit from its speaker.

"I have training all of next week, and two weeks after that I'm gone."

"How long?" the machine asked again.

"I'm not sure. Possibly, six months."

If Sherlock had been drinking anything, he had the slight notion that he might have spat it out, that or paused and felt it slide down his throat in silence. The recently acquired feeling of worry and concern swept over him.

His throat felt dry and he swallowed before he spoke, "What will you be doing?"

"My job." his friend answered.