Chapter One: Study in Errors~
To the One Who accepts me,just the way I am. with love~
John Watson goes home to die.
It took him a little longer than Mycroft had anticipated, but tonight was the night when the young doctor's heart broke for the very last time.
And it was the night that Mycroft needed him more than ever before, because Sherlock's life was at stake, for real this time.
The lightning flashed, the thunder rolled, as John pulled out his Browning, to clean it.
"Hello, old friend." he whispered, and took a swig off of the whiskey he had sitting on the counter next to Sherlock's chemistry kit. Sherlock . There was the stab of pain again. And one more moment of great pain was about to come, one instant of shock, when his body crumbled to the floor, like a sand castle in a hurricane, and the world came down like so many ice castles; one cold piece of lead to his temple, and in that last great pain,all John's pain would end. Or so he thought.
The lightning flashed, the thunder roared, like lions of the mist. And there in the wake of white light, stood Mycroft Holmes, drenched to his skin, hands twisted in the fabric of his coat, looking as though his icey mask was about to break.
John smiled, "Came to gloat, Myc?You're only in my mind, right?"
"No, John.I am very real...And I am begging you not to do this."
"Begging?You're not one to beg."John laughed, flashing the kind smile that had won the heart of one long lost Holmes brother in question tonight, a shadow of the old John that was gone forever in a gasp of smoke.
"Nor to borrow, nor to steal. But I feel that I'm about to do all of that with you, kind doctor that saved my brother's soul. Because I am a very wretched man,and I haven't been entirely honest with you."
"Oh, no really.I thought I was your confidant."John gasped, sarcastically. "I'm about to get very drunk,and then put a bullet through my brain, so you better make this fast."
Mycroft gaped at how cold he had become.
"Spill!"
"John, Sherlock is alive."
John blinked."Sorry, what?"
"I have not been entirely honest with you...Sherlock, when he jumped, he didn't actually hit the ground. I used some theatrics to help him fake his death,which ,in his defence, he had to fake to keep you alive because it was Moriarty's order to shoot you there and then, unless his snipers saw Sherlock fall. So ,in his defense, he would have died for you, made me come up with a back up plan, should I fail to get men to the snipers in time,and he be forced to jump. He actually did jump, but I had an agent on the roof that managed to shoot him with one of those hook lines,and ease him to the ground, where all he sustained was a very large bloodied bruise to forehead. It was a hastey plan, but the bike that hit you, your momentary confusion, that was all the work of my agents,and some of Sherlock's stand -ins. We had actually only haphazardly (and act of God it worked ,really) prepared for him to survive, because we really never intended for him to jump,at all.I had one of my agents hit him with a tranquilizing drug that would lower his heart rate to apparent death, so I could smuggle him out of the country,without a fuss. Initially, we had intended for it to end without his having to fall, and we had intended to let you in on it, when it looked like he was arrested for his supposed fake genius tom foolery,and his talents were conscripted, by my order, to work for MI6, and so he end up working with my agents until Moriarty's network was taken down, Moriarty at last proven guilty,and for his troubles little brother look like a hero. I arranged it,and Sherlock agreed to it, only because he wanted Moriarty stopped, cause he had to be stopped,and because he wanted you to be safe. So really, he isn't to be blamed at all for all your umm...sentiments..., and I ...really need your help, because the crew of the ship I was sending him home on ,the Vienna, has all commited mutiny. Pirates, bloody modern day pirates, ship is supposed to be a floating rehabilitation center-my brother's last encounter with the network left to forced drug abuse,and I was trying to dry him out. I'd hate to know what his "doctors" are doing to him now. Oh, I so hate to admit the error of my ways!"
John is left blinking, like the lights on a clock after the power's cut back on. His brows twisted,and squirmed ,like two fuzzy caterpillars over hot charcoal, as he tried to process what he'd just been told.
"Sherlock's...alive...And the git didn't even TRY to contact me?"
"Well, he was dead..."
"But he?"
Mycroft was on his knees ,not because he fell there begging (Iceman beg?don't be absurd!) but because John's fist had put him there. Then he hit him again, bringing him to his feet .
"The first one's for you,the second one's for Sherlock. I may not get away with hitting him when I see him, but you're close enough kin to do for a while."
John picked up his gun, intending to use it for another purpose this time. He was quickly packing an overnight bag, with all these military gadgets flying out of corners that Mycroft didn't even know existed on Baker Street. For good measure, John popped the skull up off her spot, and there was a secret stache of nicotine patches under it.
"He might want these." John muttered, eyeing Mycroft's confused expression. Then he smiled, "If this isn't a dream...And he really is alive?" his eyes grew very bright with something like hope. "And if it is a dream, I'll kill myself in the morning."
Mycroft puffed, and felt of his chin. He was pretty sure John had knocked the tooth he'd had the root canal in loose.