Author Notes: I'm sorry for my long absence and lack of posts and/or updates, but university kept me very busy in January. I only have one more exam to go and then the semester break can finally start... and my trip to London is just around the corner. ;)
Enough of me, the story is a sequel to "A Subtle Shift" and it won't make much sense, if you haven't read this story first.^^ It has two chapters and I'm hopeful that I'll be able to update next week or, at least, in a couple of weeks. :)
This story is a gift to YenGirl and Sheankelor, who both wished to know what Mycroft would ask of Sherlock in return for his favor in A Subtle Shift. ^^
And now: Enjoy! :)
Expressing Yourself
They had to leave in an hour.
John checked his reflection in the bathroom mirror one last time and - content with what he saw - nodded to himself. He wouldn't win any beauty contests today, but his hair was newly cut, his face freshly shaven and he appeared respectable in his blue button-down shirt and his best pair of jeans. Still, John couldn't help himself, when he ran his fingers through his hair one more time, before forcing his feet to carry him out of the bathroom. Otherwise, he was certain that he would spend the next fifty minutes in front of the mirror and doubt himself.
Hell, John released a heavy sight, he couldn't remember the last time, he had been so nervous. Not even when the plane - which had brought him and his men to Afghanistan - had taken off, had his stomach quivered with nerves like it did now... or had been doing for the last week, to be correct.
John leaned back against the wall, outside of Sherlock's and his bedroom, and took a steadying breath to calm down. He told himself that there was no reason to be nervous, but it didn't help. It hadn't helped, since that faithful day, one week ago, when Mycroft had paid them a visit.
"What do you want?"
"Tss, is this any way to greet your brother, Sherlock? Mummy would be very disappointed by your behavior."
John hurried into the living-room, when he heard the slightly raised voices to prevent any bloodshed. One never knew what would happen, if the Holmes' brothers were left alone for more than a minute.
"Ah, John. How nice to see you." John accepted Mycroft's outstretched hand and ignored the calculating glance that swept over him at the same time. Certainly, Mycroft could read from the wrinkles of his shirt and the way his hairs stuck out in all directions, that Sherlock and he had spent a passionate evening on the couch, before they had moved to the bedroom - for more passionate hours. It should have bothered John that nothing - not even his sex life - was safe from the preying eyes of the elder Holmes, but it didn't... or at least, not as much as it should.
Maybe, John had gotten used to not having any secrets, since moving in with Sherlock or - and that appeared far more lightly to him - he just didn't care what Mycroft thought of him. Considering that the elder Holmes was the head of more security services than anyone else even knew existed and held the future of whole nations in his hands, it probably wasn't wise to dismiss Mycroft's opinion of him like this. Nevertheless, if the opinion of any Holmes mattered to John, then it was the opinion of the glaring, young man, who seemed to consider stabbing his brother with the bow of his violin.
"Can I offer you something, Mycroft?" John inquired politely and stepped behind Sherlock's chair to place a hand on the shoulder of his lover. The tendons of Sherlock's neck were tense and John squeezed gently, before he turned his attention back to Mycroft once more. The lips of the elder Holmes twitched minutely at the exchange between the two men and John felt Sherlock grew even tenser.
"You are here to collect your debt," Sherlock spat at his brother and it was only thanks to John's hand on his shoulder that Sherlock didn't jump up to pace. "What is it this time? An international scandal? A terroristic organization? A security breach? Or has one of our noble and rich ten thousands lost their silky handkerchief?"
John snickered at the last one, even while he hoped that Mycroft hadn't brought them a case that included Sherlock going undercover among the Noblesse of England. Not that Sherlock wouldn't be able to pull it off, but... it would end in disaster as soon as one of these posh gits insulted Sherlock in any way. His lover could take insults from the Yarders - more or less gracefully - or from people of any other class, but Sherlock lost his temper particularly fast, when he was insulted by members of the upper class. John guessed that these reactions were somehow linked to Sherlock's years at university. Hell only knew what John would have done if he had been surrounded by people like Sebastian Wilkes.
"I refuse." John was startled out of his thoughts by Sherlock's angry hiss and Mycroft's exasperated sigh. Obviously, he had missed part of their conversation. "Really, Sherlock, I would have expected you to honor a debt, instead of making such a fuss about a trifle."
John shuffled uncomfortable behind Sherlock's chair. It had been his idea to ask Mycroft to get them a table for two at Alain Ducasse's, after Sherlock had told John about his gender identity - while wearing a dress - a couple of weeks ago. Therefore, it would only be fair if John paid the debt they owed Mycroft. At least, if it lay in his power to do so.
"Ah, always the gentleman." John scowled at Mycroft for reading his mind - or what passed for it for the elder Holmes. "If you had listened to our conversation, you would know that you are an essential part to my plans for Sherlock." Before John could inquire what all of this was about, Sherlock had sprung to his feet and rounded on his brother. Teeth bared like an aggressive dog... or like a cat, which's fur you had brushed in the wrong direction. "I don't have the time to pay a visit to Mummy. I`m busy." John blinked at that. Had he heard correctly, Mycroft wanted Sherlock to visit his parents? To John, that didn't sound like such a terrible request.
"Don`t be tedious, Sherlock." Mycroft tapped his foot once, but otherwise remained unmoved by Sherlock's aggressive posture. "You don't have any cases on and our parents would love to see you and meet your partner." John gulped at that - he hated meeting the parents of his lovers - but he still forced his legs to move and carry him to stand next to Sherlock. "It doesn`t sound like such a bad idea," John whispered in Sherlock's ear, but his lover only glared at him. "You wouldn't talk like this if you knew that Mummy chased away the last three men I brought home with me."
"Please, Sherlock, that was years ago and I must say that your taste has improved since you brought this imbecile, Victor, home with you." John ignored the heat that rose to his cheeks at Mycroft's backhanded compliment and instead slung his arms around Sherlock's waist and placed his hand on his lover's hip. Some of the tension drained from Sherlock's body at the contact and a small smile flickered across John's face at that.
"I promise you that nothing your mother says or does will drive me away, Sherlock." John noted that his guess about the root of Sherlock's fears had been correct, when his lover raised an eyebrow at him and sent John and disbelieving look. "How can you know that, now?"
John merely shrugged. "Because I know that the only thing that can keep me from you is the Reaper and even he couldn't keep me away for long." For a second, John believed that he had said too much. That Sherlock would be overwhelmed by such a sentimental declaration and flee their flat as fast as possible. Instead, when their eyes met, Sherlock's were blown wide with wonder and amazement. "John," he breathed and it sounded like a vow, before soft lips claimed John's in a sweet kiss.
John poured all his feelings for his amazing, mad lover into the kiss and the innocent contact would have led to other - not so innocent - activities, if a discrete cough hadn't reminded them of Mycroft's presence. John growled quietly and then smirked, when he noted the sick look on the elder Holmes' face. Obviously, their display had been much too sentimental for Mycroft's liking.
"Don't you have something more important to do than watch us? Start a few wars or dispose of a Head of State." The corners of Mycroft's mouth didn't even twitch as he collected his umbrella from where it leaned against John's chair and nodded at them both. "Since we have established that John won't break it off with you, I expect you to be ready to leave at nine, next Friday morning. Mummy is looking forward to seeing you both."
John's arm around Sherlock's waist tightened and prevented him from lunging himself at his elder brother, when Mycroft passed them on his way out. "John. Sherlock." All John could do was nod at Mycroft, before Sherlock pressed John against the next wall and claimed his lips in a heated kiss.
John didn't doubt that it was partly to spit his brother, but since Sherlock was unbelievable hot, when he was a little angry, he didn't resist his lover's eager hands and lips. They would have enough time to talk about the visit to Sherlock's parents later.
John grinned a little at the memory. In the end, he had been able to convince Sherlock that a day spent with his parents wouldn't be so bad by demonstrating him just how much John loved him and that no one would be able to convince him to leave Sherlock.
A sappy smile threatened to take over John's face, when he reminded himself that he should better go and check on Sherlock to make sure that his lover hadn't forgotten that they had to leave in forty minutes. He entered their bedroom without knocking and sighed in relief, when he found Sherlock completely dressed in trousers, shirt and jacket, ready to leave right away.
"You look fantastic," John breathed as he stepped farther into the room. Really, he loved how this tight trousers clung to Sherlock's arse. It reminded John of last night, when he had grabbed Sherlock's buttocks with both hands, while his lover had thrust into him over and over again. He licked his lips at the thought and shifted his weight a little to feel the exquisite ache in the lower part of his body, which was proof of Sherlock's desire for him.
"No, I don`t."
The forlorn sounding voice of his lover startled John from his X-rated daydream and he only then noticed that Sherlock's wardrobe was wide open and his lover was staring longingly at a cornflower-blue dress. Two weeks ago, this would have startled John, but now he merely smiled and stepped next to Sherlock to retrieve the dress from the wardrobe. It was a simply summer dress in the nicest shade of blue, John had ever seen. There was a small v-neck at the front and the skirt was wide and floating. Long enough to reach as far as Sherlock's knees, John thought and handed the dress to his lover. "You will look lovely in this, sweetheart," John praised and breathed a gentle kiss to Sherlock`s cheek.
Startled blue eyes met his and John was momentarily stunned at the vulnerability he saw in Sherlock's gaze. "You think so? It doesn't come with inserted pads and I don't have the time to dress up like last time. I won`t pass as a woman and..." Sherlock`s voice quivered and John cursed everyone, who had ever made Sherlock feel like she had to pass as anything.
"I don`t care about that. If you identify as a woman today, then you are a woman today, Sherlock and... the dress is really lovely." It was the right thing to say, as Sherlock's small smile proved, when she placed the dress carefully on the bed and started unbuttoning her shirt. "It's a present from Mycroft," she muttered and John laughed quietly, certain that this was the main reason why Sherlock had hesitated to wear the dress today.
John left the room to allow her some privacy to get ready until they had to leave in half an hour. He was already looking forward to seeing her in this beautiful dress and he was also curious how Mycroft would look, when he realized that his sister was wearing his present.
OOO
The dress was beautiful.
Sherlock smiled at her reflection in the mirror and admired how the skirt fluttered with every movement of her hips. It wasn't even so bad that the dress didn't have any pads sewed in or that she hadn't had the time to prepare a bra to create the illusion of breasts. The small v-neck highlighted her sharp collarbones and the woolen fabric hugged her chest so tight that it felt like a second skin. Yes, Sherlock nodded to herself, she rather liked how she looked today. The blue eye shadow she had chosen brought out her eyes and some rouge underlined her otherwise pale face. Only... she picked at her curls and sighed. They weren't as fluffy as she would have liked, but there was nothing she could do about this, since Mycroft was supposed to arrive any minute now. They would drive to their parents' house in one of Mycroft's black vehicles - the same he loved to use when he had to kidnap Sherlock's friends - and then spent the day together with Mummy and Dad.
Sherlock swallowed nervously at the thought. The visit to her parents' house was the main reason why she had hesitated to put on a dress this morning. As far as Sherlock knew, neither Mummy nor Dad were aware of her gender identity and she didn't have any way of judging how they would react to seeing her in a dress.
Well, Sherlock was fairly certain that Dad wouldn't be too shocked about it, since he had always taken the eccentrics of his children in stride, without giving them the feeling that they weren't normal in any way. No, Sherlock was rather worried about the reaction of Mummy. She was a remarkable woman - no need to question that - but certain outdated views of how things were supposed to be were still ingrained in her thinking. It had certainly taken her a long time to accept that Sherlock preferred men and after months of screaming and accusations, Sherlock hadn`t seen why she should tell her about her gender identity. Not only would it have made it even more complicated for her mother to grasp Sherlock's sexuality - which Sherlock didn't bother labeling anymore - but she might also have freaked out and... Sherlock hadn't had the strength to handle any more fights at that time.
Still... Sherlock lifted her chin and met the determined eyes of her own reflection. She wasn't alone anymore. She had John on her side. And she also wasn't a dependent teenager anymore, she was her own woman and if Mummy didn't accept her, then it wasn't Sherlock`s fault. With that thought in mind, Sherlock applied her lipstick and then reached for her handbag, when she heard heavy steps moving up the staircase to their flat. It appeared like Mycroft's diet wasn't working out well after all. Smirking slightly, Sherlock hurried out of the bedroom. She was eager to greet her elder brother to memorize his reaction to seeing Sherlock wearing the dress, he had given to her.
OOO
"Apparently, I'll have to notify Mummy that we will be later than planned."
Sherlock frowned at Mycroft's statement. There was no apparent reason for them being late. John was dressed and finished, Sherlock was ready as well and Mycroft didn't look like he had gotten more important business to handle today. Sherlock's eyes swept over her brother, taking in his tree piece suit and his perfectly primped hair. The hand, which held his bloody umbrella, was steady and there were no crumbs on his tie, which had been an indicator for a hasty meal and an international crisis before.
"You should better start re-dressing, brother mine, or we won't be treated to Mummy's fantastic roulades, today." The words struck Sherlock like a lightning and she clenched her fists at her side to prevent Mycroft from noticing their trembling. "I don't see your point, Mycroft. My dress is perfectly acceptable for an informal family gathering."
Cold grey eyes swept over her body and Sherlock watched with a sinking feeling in her gut how Mycroft pressed his lips into a thin line and shook his head disapprovingly. "You can't be serious, Sherlock. A nice pair of trousers and a blouse - if you absolutely must - but you can't show up like this at our parents' house."
The cold and dismissing tone, hurt more than Sherlock would ever admit. Especially, since Mycroft had never talked to her like this before. He had never tried to force her into wearing trousers, when she had felt like wearing a dress. Hell, Mycroft had even gone shopping with her once and bought her new shoes, when Sherlock had been working on a case for him in... Paris!
The breath hitched in her throat, when Sherlock realised that Mycroft had never been seen with her in public, where someone might recognize them. He had never encouraged Sherlock to go out, when she identified and expressed herself as a woman and...
"Sherlock looks absolutely stunning and I can't imagine why she shouldn't turn up at your parents' house in such a beautiful dress." Sherlock's eyes snapped to John, who had moved to stand next to her and was now glaring at Mycroft. "I don't know what your problem is, since I know that you bought the dress for Sherlock, but I won't listen to you insulting your own sister." A faint smile twitched at the corner of Sherlock's lips, when John slung his arm around her waist and drew her against his body. At least her lover was on her side, since it was obvious from Mycroft's calculated smile that he wasn`t impressed by John's words at all. "It's good to see for myself that my brother is in such good hands, but you don't know our parents, John and therefore you should leave the judgment of what's acceptable and what isn't to me."
The arm around Sherlock's waist stiffened and John's voice hardened, until it was the voice of Captain Watson, when he addressed Mycroft. "You are right, I don't know your family, but if your parents aren't ready to accept their own children the way they are, then I don't think I even want to meet them anymore. And," Sherlock's eyes widened at John's cutting voice. "I don't want you to ever refer to Sherlock as your brother again, when it's obvious to you that she is your sister today."
Under any other circumstances, the glaring match between Mycroft and John would have been highly amusing, but Sherlock didn't pay it much attention. There was too much going through her head as that she could be bothered to deduce who was going to win that battle of wills. For one thing, Sherlock had just realised that her brother might not be as accepting of her gender identity as she had thought. Otherwise, he wouldn't have used the wrong form of address and tried to force her to express herself as a man today. The realisation hurt and Sherlock was only able to remain in the same room with her brother, because the warmth of John's body was seeping into hers and reassuring her of the fact that at least one person on the planet loved her the way she was.
Mycroft and she had their disagreements and Sherlock truly hated him sometimes, but even she had had to admit that she loved her brother at the same time, even when he was especially annoying. She had never doubted that Mycroft felt any other way, but now... Sherlock wasn't so sure anymore if that was true. If her brother couldn't even stand her wearing the dress, he had given to Sherlock for her birthday, then...
"You are right, Doctor Watson, my apologies."
Sherlock's head snapped up as she stared at her brother, who was looking like he had just swallowed a whole lemon. Still not used to admitting his faults, then.
"I'm not the one you have wronged. You owe an apology to Sherlock."
Dear God, Sherlock thought, when John's arm tightened around her waist, how did she deserve such a wonderful man? And how, she thought angrily at herself a second later, did it come that she allowed John to speak on her behalf, when she was more than capable of taking on Mycroft on her own?
"He doesn't have to apologize," Sherlock jumped in, when her brother opened his mouth. "It would only be an insincere phrase, since it's obvious that my dear brother meant everything he just said." Sherlock directed her gaze at Mycroft and was relieved, when her voice emerged without a stutter. "You didn't have to amuse me for all these years. If you don't take my gender identity seriously, you only had to say so, instead of buying me nice dresses, shoes and handbags, every once in a while. But no," Sherlock allowed some mockery to color her tone. "You couldn't risk that, since you knew that you might need me from time to time to solve a case for you. I assure you, that I'll never work for you again and if you try to interfere with my life, because of this decision, then..."
"Stop, Sherlock! Just stop!"
Sherlock blinked up at her brother, who had lifted one hand in surrender, with a defeated look on his face. A look that suited him very nicely, Sherlock decided grimly, but still allowed Mycroft to voice whatever words were left between them. "It's not... God, of course I accept you as a woman, I just thought," Mycroft scrubbed his face with one hand and a deep sigh fell from his lips. "You know how Mummy is and I didn't want her to pick on you again for something that's as much a part of you as your curly hair. That`s why..."
"Wait a second, you treated Sherlock like shit and gave her the impression that her feelings don't matter, because you are afraid of what your mother is going to say? How old are you again, Mycroft Holmes?" Sherlock almost snickered at John's words, but forced herself to keep a straight face, while her eyes roamed over Mycroft's features. Her brother was a master at masking his feelings, but it appeared like he was honest. Sherlock allowed herself a small sigh of relief, although she wasn't completely convinced yet that Mycroft wasn't just playing one of his games It would be just like him to manipulate her like this... or try manipulating her, since he wouldn't be successful this time, if Sherlock noticed so much as a sign of dishonesty.
"So," Sherlock started and took strength from John's warm weight against her body. "You decided on bullying me into wearing trousers, because you wanted to protect me from Mummy's vicious tongue, did I get that right?" Next to her, John growled darkly and Sherlock wondered for a second how his parents had reacted to finding out that Harry was a lesbian. They had never talked about it, but judging from John's protective streak, it was safe to assume that they hadn't reacted well to this revelation. No wonder then, that John had taken offense at how Mycroft had behaved towards her. Sherlock's eyes shifted to her brother, who would appear unmoved to a stranger, but if you had grown up with him, it was easy to spot the signs of Mycroft's discomfort. For example, the way he tapped his foot on the floorboard every ten seconds or how he turned his umbrella with a slight twitch of his right hand.
Nevertheless, his voice was perfectly calm and bare of any emotions, when he spoke. "You got it correct Sherlock and I must admit that I... miscalculated a little, since I wasn't prepared for your appearance." Mycroft's lips twitched as if he had swallowed something disgusting and Sherlock smirked inwardly at how much her brother hated admitting his mistakes. "I should have gone about this business differently, but..." Mycroft straightened to his full height and directed his cool gaze at Sherlock. "Now that we understand each other, I'm sure you can change your clothes, so that we can be on time..."
"No!" Sherlock shook her head and glared at her brother at the same time. She understood now, why Mycroft had acted like he had, but that didn't mean that she would bend herself to please him. "I'm going to wear this dress and Mummy will have to accept it or..."
"Or what?" Mycroft interrupted her with a pointy look. "Are you going to run away from home again and live on the streets for days, because Mummy was furious about finding out that you prefer men?"
Sherlock flinched back at the remainder of that day. Long suppressed feelings resurfaced, even as she scowled at her brother.
"I won't allow you to live out your perverse feelings as long as you live here!"
Sherlock ducked, when his mother threw a vase at him that shattered to pieces against the wall. He had known that his mother wouldn't be thrilled at the prospect of having a gay son, but he hadn't anticipated her fury. Maybe, it would have been wiser to keep his sexuality a secret or at least to wait until his Dad was back. Sherlock knew that his Dad would have been able to calm Mummy down and that he wouldn't have acted like this. Like Sherlock was... some kind of disgusting parasite.
He swallowed against the hot pain, which was located in his chest, while his mother rounded on him again. "I don't know what's wrong with you, but until you see sense, you won't leave this house, unless you have to go to school. I won't allow you to taint the good name of our family by becoming such an... abomination."
A dry sob hitched in Sherlock's throat and he clenched his fists at his side to prevent the tears from falling, even when they burned in his eyes. No, he shouldn't have told his mother about his preferences, but Sherlock had really wanted to bring Oliver home with him and... It didn't matter anymore, his mother had made it clear what she thought of him and Sherlock wouldn't beg her to change her view of him. And most certainly, he wouldn't allow her to control his life. He was sixteen after all, old enough to take his life in his own hands.
Concentrating on his breathing, it took Sherlock every ounce of strength to glare at his mother. "If you are so worried about the good name of the family, then I'll gladly leave, so that you don't have to feel ashamed of me! You won't dictate my life, I won't let you!"
If possible the face of his mother darkened even farther and Sherlock knew that he had to be fast, if he wanted to leave the house, before she was able to call the servants for help. He all but bolted from the room, grabbed his coat and scarf and was down the stairs of the mansion, before his mother even had the chance to call out after him.
Sherlock sprinted down the gateway and down the road, until he couldn't see the house anymore. Only then, he allowed himself to sink down behind some bushes - hidden away from the street - and to cry his heart out.
OOO
Sherlock sputtered when the man came into his mouth. The taste was terrible and he would have retched if there had been anything left in his stomach. His discomfort only earned him a laugh from the man as he zipped up his trousers and patted Sherlock's head in an almost fatherly way. "You are a fast study. As promised, you can stay in the flat for tonight and if you want to stay longer... I`m sure you will come up with a good payment for me."
Sherlock didn't dare looking up, until he heard the click of the door and heavy steps on the stairs. Only, when he was sure that the man wouldn't come back, he allowed himself to dash to the bathroom and heave into the toilet. Bile was the only substance left in his stomach and after five minutes, Sherlock sagged back against the dirty wall and pressed trembling hands to his lips. He was disgusted with himself. He felt tainted... dirty, but there was no way of undoing his decision to give head to a stranger in exchange for a roof over his head. Sherlock was probably lucky that the man had held true to his promise and had left him alone for the night or that he hadn't demanded other things of him.
Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut, when he remembered what the man had implied he would want if Sherlock decided on staying longer than for one night. He had never had penetrative sex with anyone before - and had only exchanged a few handjobs with Oliver so far - and Sherlock really didn't want it to happen with a total stranger. He didn't want to sell his... body. When he had thought about sex, he had always imagined it to happen with someone, he loved - or at least cared for and trusted - and not because he needed somewhere warm to stay. Of course, he could go back to live in the streets, but a couple of nights of trying to sleep there had taught Sherlock that it wasn't a safe place for a teenage boy without friends. If some older woman hadn't smashed a glass bottle on the head of his attacker, Sherlock would have been raped of his dignity and probably his life on the dirty ground of a back road.
A shudder ran through Sherlock at that thought and he curled into himself farther. It didn't seem to matter what he did. Wherever he went, he had to give something up to be allowed to live in peace. Either his whole identify - if he went back home - or the dream of having his first time with someone, who mattered to him. The decision wasn't really that hard, Sherlock thought determined, even when nausea rose again, as he thought about the next day.
"Sherlock would have ended up as a prostitute in the streets, if Dad hadn't come home from his business trip and used all of his contacts to find her. She had already found herself a punter."
"Shut up!" Sherlock snapped and she didn't even pay any mind to the fact that Mycroft was using her correct pronouns. All her attention was focused on John, who had gone as white as a sheet at Mycroft's words, his fingers digging painfully in Sherlock's side, while John processed the new information about her.
A tremor ran down Sherlock's spine as she imagined what John had to think of her now. Selling her body to a stranger... Sherlock was sure that it went against John's morals. Although, nothing had happened - besides that one disgusting blow job - Sherlock had to admit that she would have been prepared to give away even more of herself if her Dad hadn't found her in time. He had fought with Mummy and had told her that she was free to leave if she couldn't stand to be in the house anymore, but that he wouldn't allow her to make Sherlock feel badly about herself. Years of strained silence and accusations had followed, but by the time Sherlock had finished university, her mother had come around. Or at least, she did her best to pretend that it didn't bother her anymore that Sherlock preferred men, although she hadn't hold back her remarks, when Sherlock had been foolish enough to bring his lovers home.
Still, in comparison these years didn't appear as terrible as John's silence to Sherlock right now. She wondered if that was it. If she had finally found the one thing that would drive John away. After all, now that he knew that Sherlock had once sold herself to a stranger, he might start to question if she hadn't done it again, while she had been using - Sherlock hadn't - and the suggestion alone would be enough to taint his love for her. John was a man with high morals after all. He wouldn't condone that his lover had sold her body at one time during her life and... John would leave her and then Sherlock would be... alone, once more.
Her breath hitched in her throat, when a burning chain of pain chocked her chest and she was barely able to hold herself upright, when John's arm fell away from around her waist. Sherlock forced her eyes to follow his movements across the room, to deduce from the length of his steps how long it would take him to leave the flat - to leave her. Obviously though, she had missed an important clue, since John stopped right in front of Mycroft and Sherlock only registered the furious expression on his face, before a well aimed fist connected with her brother's jaw.
"You fucking arsehole!" John snarled, as he grabbed Mycroft's tie and dragged him to the door. "You don`t have any right to talk about Sherlock like this and we certainly won't come with you to visit your parents, after what I have just learned about them. Feel free to send the bill from the restaurant to me!" With this, John threw the door in Mycroft's face and Sherlock was left to stare in wonder at John, who stalked determined through the room and enfolded her in his arms a moment later.
Seconds ticked by, in which Sherlock stood completely frozen, trying to come to terms with what had just happened, until she finally got her arms to cooperate with her and returned John's embrace. Sherlock relaxed, when her beloved's scent surrounded her and dared to believe that everything would sort itself out.