Chapter 1
"What do you want? I'm busy."
"Good evening, Sherlock. I'm simply calling to give you my congratulations on your very recently closed case of Mr. Hawthorne. Very fascinating murder weapon I must say. Who would have thought a bottle of saline solution coul…"
"Not that I am not touched by your concerns, dear brother, but I do hope that you have better things to attend to rather than sticking your nose in my bloody business."
"Well, Sherlock, after your 14th drug bust, I do believe someone should check on you. Occasionally."
Mycroft always had a way of getting on Sherlock's nerves, almost as if he actually considered it to be a must-have obligation of an older brother. Of course Sherlock was immune to other people's input, because people are stupid, and Sherlock is Sherlock. But unfortunately, Mycroft was anything but people. That's why, somehow, Sherlock found a small version of himself screaming inside, 'it was one and a half year ago for God's sake!' He was very close to hanging up on his brother, but his rationality constantly reminded him of the fact that he was, after all, dealing with the most powerful man in England. Sherlock comforted himself in the thought that a conversation over the phone in any scenarios was still better than being abducted into a suspicious black car and having a "brotherly" face-to-face conversation with Mycroft.
"Be quick about it." Sherlock's grasp on the phone tightened.
"Oh of course." Yet Mycroft paused briefly for unnecessary suspense. Sherlock rolled his eyes, questioning both Mycroft's and his own presumption of him being the childish one out of the two. This'd better be worth it. "It has been confirmed, that he is retiring and soon will be back in London. September 9th to be exact. I believe now is a pretty good time for your coincidental re-acquaintance with your old 'friend' Mike Stamford, don't you think?"
A longer pause on Sherlock's end. No suspense intended.
"And you supposed that is something I would be interested in?" Sherlock forcibly clenched his fists to prevent them from trembling. He managed to at least keep his voice steady. Still, that couldn't have fooled Mycroft. Sherlock knew that too. He practically could hear Mycroft being smug at the other end of the phone. So he just gave up. "I still strongly insist on my very humble request of you staying out of my business, Mycroft."
Sherlock abruptly hung up, hoping it did not reveal any of his gratitude. He quickened his pace back to 221B Bakerstreet, fists still clenched but his lips involuntarily curled up into a grin. Cellphone trilled.
Haven't seen such a big smile on your face since 1987. You're welcome. –MH
Piss off. –SH
Sherlock put his phone back to his pocket. His mind swirled into plans and, as some people might call it, schemes regarding this very exciting news. He knew Mycroft was watching, he could see the CCTV's light above the convenience store on the other side of the street blinking, but he didn't care. This was one of the occasions wherein Sherlock genuinely wasn't one bit bothered by Mycroft's annoyingly obvious surveillance. He just couldn't care less! Sherlock hadn't felt this strange fluttering sensation vibrating in his chest for a long, long time. His heart was racing and pumping as if he was chasing a serial killer of 3 murders. Possibly 4. Because John Watson was coming back. John Watson. Is coming back. Merely mentally saying his name was enough to send a shiver down Sherlock's body. Barely able to contain himself with excitement, at that very moment, Sherlock's eyes lit up with determination. This time, he will not let go of the man again. This time, he will make John Watson his. This time, definitely.
My very, very first attempt at writing fanfiction. Like seriously, I have never actually written anything other than to-do lists and academically useless research papers. So please ruthlessly feedback me I do want to get better, and soon,… and quick lol so just mercilessly criticize me! I'm looking forward to it! Thank you all!
