Prologue: Loyal
"You have to let him go, John,"
John clenched his fists reflexively as anger surged through him. Not this again. Wouldn't anyone ever learn. "You sound like my worthless therapist, Mycroft," John spat, not even turning to face the elder Holmes.
Mycroft was easy to brush off, John liked him about as much as Sherlock ever did. It was the others that got to him. Those bastards Donovan and Anderson... Lestrade, Molly, even Mrs. Hudson had, in their own way, encouraged John to 'let go' of Sherlock and to 'move on.'
As a result of their needling, John hardly spoke to them anymore. He still lived at 221 B Baker Street, so this occasional made paying the rent a touch awkward.
"If the shoe fits," Mycroft drawled. "You can't say that what you're doing is healthy."
John scoffed and continued to stare resolutely out the window. What did any of them know about healthy? He still worked, did his chores, read a book now and then. No book could ever be as good as a case, but it helped.
However, none of that seemed to be good enough for other people. They were so bloody focused on how Sherlock was still a part of his life, even though he was gone. Not only did John still lived at their old apartment, he still kept Sherlock's website active, and he still wrote his blog. Although, now his blog was more about letters to Sherlock, and brief essays defending Sherlock's name.
This was hardly his first discussion with Mycroft. The elder Holmes brother had become quite the pest over the years. A month after Sherlock had fallen, they'd had an outrageous row; John had threatened to shoot Mycroft-and he would have too-if that sneaky bastard removed so much as a single article of Sherlock's clothing. It was a petty and unnecessary row. It would've made Sherlock proud.
The truth was, John had become more than a little attached to what remained of his best friend. John had even taken to wearing Sherlock's scarves in the winter.
"You're obsessing," Mycroft continued.
John didn't dignify Mycroft with a reply. Yes, Sherlock was still a big part of his life. One could even argue that Sherlock was a somewhat consuming part of his life, but no more so than when he had been alive.
As much as it hurt, John made a point of going on with things, keeping fit, and sharpening his mind as much as he could; he would never compare to Sherlock. John was trying to cope with the gaping wound left in his life since the fall of the world's only consulting detective, but there was more to it than that. John was convinced, absolutely convinced that there was more to Sherlock's story than he knew, and by God he would have answers if it was the last thing he ever did. In the meantime, all he could do was wait, and be ready when the time came.
"You're hopeless, John. Did you even know that your watch has been broken for the past year?"
John smiled a knowing smile to himself. Of course he knew. He had carefully removed the battery himself, the day after Sherlock fallen. His watch was frozen reading the hour and the minute that changed John's life forever.
Sherlock had been the one to put the idea into his head in the first place. During Sherlock's penultimate case, they had researched some eastern European tradition where people stopped clocks when they heard about a loved one's death. As with most of Sherlock's cases, this trifle of information had made all the difference in closing it.
John had never gotten around to writing up that particular case, but he'd never forgotten that particular mourning practice. Sherlock, naturally, had been baffled by the sentiment of such an idea, but it had made sense to John. After Sherlock's fall, when nothing seemed to make sense anymore, John had adopted the tradition, in his own way, with his broken wristwatch. The clock was supposed to stay stopped forever. Maybe when John had his answers he'd start it up again. In the meantime it was a perfect representation of the part of him that was frozen in that moment, willing Sherlock not to jump.
Mycroft let out a tired sigh. "I could have you committed, you know."
John spun to face Mycroft at last, fire in his eyes. "Whatever you do, Mycroft, you'll never get what you want."
Mycroft regarded him with a patronizingly bored expression. John thought it was time to change that. He began advancing on the elder Holmes brother, slowly.
"Lock me in whatever deep dark hole you can find, sell the flat, and all his positions, you still won't convince me to 'let him go'. Change the environment, change my surroundings, and I will still be committed to him, our friendship, and his good name. I always will be."
John was completely in Mycroft's personal space now, staring him down. "You can't break me or buy me Mycroft. You never could."
Mycroft narrowed his eyes. "You always did have an unhealthy attachment to my brother." A slow sneer spread itself on Mycroft's lips. "He does not deserve such... loyalty."
They were so close to each other, that Mycroft never saw the punch coming. There was a sudden burst of light behind his eyes, and the snap of bone. Mycroft hunched over, shielding his broken, bleeding nose.
"You're a disgrace of a brother, Mycroft," John snarled, snapping the long umbrella, which Mycroft usually carried, over his knee. "Dead or alive I will never give up on your brother." John tossed the shattered umbrella on the floor and stormed out.
Mycroft groaned, and fumbled for his cell phone as he heard the doors slamming behind John.
John is being very stubborn. -MH
Did you expect anything else? Put some ice on your nose before it swells. -SH
Have you hacked my security cameras again? -MH
Please, don't be stupid. I know my blogger. -SH
I hope this is all worth it. We could move much faster if you would come out in the open.- MH
Unacceptable. I will not put him at risk.- SH
Even if he is the only one still waiting for you, you'll have a hero's welcome when you return. -MH
After he's punched me, I'm sure I will.- SH
Maybe after that you can tell him the rest of it, and share you're true feelings. -MH
One step at a time Mycroft. -SH
There was a pause of a few minutes and then...
Thank you, for protecting him in my absence. - SH
You would make his threats of violence seem like child's play if I did not. - MH
True enough. Where are we on tracking down Sebastian? -SH
Not over text. I'll call you later. - MH
Be quick about it. -SH
Mycroft shook his head as he slipped his phone back into his pants pocket, and dabbed at his nose. Sometimes he wasn't sure who was more stubborn about being loyal to who; John to Sherlock, or Sherlock to John. One thing was certain, he still expected a 'happy announcement' at some point in the future.