You leave him alone...
Stay away from him...
Get the Hell away from me...
Get the Hell OUT of me...
Why don't you just stay dead...
Can anyone hear me...
Sherlock...help...me...
"John! You alright?"
Said Mycroft Holmes to John Watson, who zoned out for a second staring in the mirror.
"Yeah...yeah. I'm fine. "
"I never struck you as the vain type to stare at your refelection. You always looked rather...peckish."
John grins and sarcastically laughs.
"No, I've just been thinking."
Mycroft looks annoyed.
"Yeah, well I hope you haven't come to my apartment just to think. We both have better things to do. I know I do anyway. By the way, you still haven't told me exactly why you're here?"
"Ah, yes. Of course. May we sit?"
"Yeah, I was just gonna have some tea. Care for a cup?"
"Yes, I'd love one."
They both walk into the kitchen and sit at the table. Mycroft grabs the kettle in center of the table and pours a cup for himself and one for John. He passes the cup to John.
"Thank you."
Mycroft takes a sip of his tea; John just sets his down.
"So, there something you wanted?"
"Yes, me and Sherlock need you to leave town for a bit."
Mycroft looks baffled.
"I beg your pardon?!"
"Well, it's just that strange things have been happening lately and we're worried that you'll be in danger."
"Danger? What danger?!"
"We don't know and we don't want to find out. We got a warning that something terrible is going to happen and we don't want to risk yours or anyone's safety at this point."
Mycroft scoffs.
"Please. I'm not going anywhere! My home, my things, and my business are here in London and I'm not going anywhere!"
"But Mycroft!"
"But nothing!"
"But we don't want you to get hurt or in the way."
"In the way?"
"Of the investigation. You're in danger that means you could get too close to this."
"If you think I'm gonna get run out of my home because of some unnamed 'danger', you're clearly as delusional as my brother."
"Mycroft, you have to-"
"I don't have to do a damn thing! YOU on the other hand have to get the Hell out of my house!"
"Fine, fine. I understand."
John picks up his tea cup and sips it.
"I'm sorry Mycroft...I tried to warn you...you brought this on yourself..."
He throws his hot tea in Mycroft's face. Mycroft falls to the ground in agony.
John gets up out of his seat and punches Mycroft in the face.
"You always were a formality Mycroft."
Punches him again.
"Always in the way...badgering us in that 'almighty' presence of yours."
Punches him again.
"As if you were The Queen herself when in reality..."
Punches him again; by this point Mycroft is a bloody mess.
"You're barely a peasant. Like a child who was picked on one too many times and grew up to put himself on the highest horse with the slightest power."
He picks up Mycroft.
"Time to fall off that bloody horse."
He throws him across the table. Mycroft is now unconscious and bloody on the ground.
John walks away with a shit eating grin on his face.