John was wrong when he said that it would be hell. It was beyond hell. When the two came out and told the waiting elder brother that they were not breaking up, Mycroft grew silent. A very, very dangerous type of silent. His face paled and his eyes widened for just a split second.
He then told John, in a hard yet silent voice, that he was not afraid of how far he would go to protect Sherlock and that he had a way of making people disappear. Sherlock glared at him and said-
Flashback
"It's time for you to leave, Mycroft."
Mycroft shook his head.
"I'm worried about you and this is how you treat me? You remember Victor. I will not let that happen again, Sherlock."
"I'm not like Victor!" John exclaimed in defense.
John felt his whole body chill by a few degrees when Mycroft narrowed his eyes at him.
"I use to think that too. But seeing as how you've decided to put your own happiness first-"
"It's MY happiness too! Get OUT Mycroft or I'll force you out."
Sherlock's shouts echoed through the room. Following it was a silence so tense that it felt like the atmosphere could actually be cut with a knife. The only thing the three men would've heard was the ticking of the clock. Would have but they were too lost in focusing in on each other.
Finally, Mycroft smiled in a very unhappy way.
"I see you've made your decision. Well then, John," he turned to the doctor, "Please take good care of my brother."
He held out his hand, which John hesitantly took. They shook awkwardly and Mycroft's grip was hard enough to cut circulation but John didn't say anything about that. Once Mycroft was gone, John felt himself breathing a little bit easier.
"Why does he do things like this? Why can't he just leave me the hell alone?" Sherlock asked in a broken voice.
The detective choked back a sob and rushed to the nearest chair, bending his torso to his knees and placing his hands against his face to hide any unwanted tears. His entire body looked to be in a slump, as if it was trumped on by wild horses. John had never seen Sherlock so torn up. And he wished he never did.
He strode over and placed a reassuring hand on Sherlock's shoulder. He leaned into Sherlock's ear.
"Come on, love. You know he's just worried."
"He hasn't really given up. You know that," Sherlock stated with his hands still buried in his face.
John did know. When it came to protecting Sherlock, Mycroft was an unstoppable force. John thought it was very endearing to see how much the man cared for his brother, doing anything to stop any threat. But now that he considered John a threat, it was hard to think it the same way.
Present
John was idly typing away on his blog in a colorful bathrobe. His hair was matted and wet and his body was still heated from the shower that he took. Sherlock came up and stealthily planted a kiss on John's cheek. John grinned, looking up at him.
"G'morning to you too."
John's smile fell when he took a good look at Sherlock. The man was frowning deeply and his eyes showed that something was on his mind. The detective sat down on the other side of the table, making it easier for eye contact.
"I need to ask you something."
Sherlock was nervous, John could tell. The way the dark-haired man's shoulders were tense and his rigid breath told him plenty. John closed his laptop shut.
"What's wrong?"
The detective stared at him.
"I need to know, what you really thought. When my brother told you about my attempted suicide."
Sherlock strummed his finger onto the smooth, oak table. John frowned in thought.
"Well, I was worried."
"Were you surprised?"
"Yes."
"Why," Sherlock closed his eyes tightly, "Why were you surprised? Because you thought I was stronger? You lied to me when I asked you about that, didn't you? That I was weak."
He was now looking right at a stunned John. The doctor was too caught off-guard to say anything right away.
"What? No Sherlock. Of course, I didn't lie. I never thought you were weak. I have no reason to think that."
"Then why were you so surprised?" Sherlock demanded in a low tone.
John took a moment to think. And another moment. And another moment more. Finally the pause was too much for Sherlock. The taller man stood up and glared accusingly at John.
"I knew it. You did lie. You think I'm weak."
"Now just a minute!" John stood up as well, "You can't just go around making assumptions!"
"I don't make assumptions. I observe. And I know a lie when I hear it."
John was getting just as worked up as Sherlock.
"Do you? Well, of course. You're flawless in your deductions, aren't you? Hell would freeze over before you admit that you're wrong!"
"I don't have to be flawless to know when people lie!"
"You didn't know Victor was lying!"
John shouted it out before he could think better and keep his mouth shut. Sherlock stared at him, mouth agape, before his eyes narrowed.
"Maybe we should break up," he said so quietly that John had to strain to hear it.
x
Three hours later and Sherlock was still cooped up in his room. There wasn't even violin music so God only knew what the man was doing. John figured that enough was enough. He went inside without knocking. He wasn't quite sure if he should be surprised that the door was unlocked or not. Sherlock was lying on the bed, his body on top of the covers. He didn't acknowledge John coming up in the room. He just stared up at the ceiling. John searched for any nicotine patches but thankfully found none on Sherlock's bare arm. He sat down on the bed, adding weight to the mattress and rubbed his hands together nervously.
"What do you want?" Sherlock's voice was cold.
"I want to talk about what happened this morning."
"Nothing to talk about. Leave me alone."
"Do you really want to break up?"
"I don't...I don't know..."
Sherlock sat up cross-legged to look at the other man. They both sat in silence for awhile. At first it was an uncomfortable one but eventually both men found the quiet with each other to be almost pleasing. John offered a smile. Sherlock tried to return it but it ended up being a grimace. He looked away.
"John. I'm sorry. I don't want to break up. I just never wanted you to find out. I didn't want you to think I was some weeping little teenage girl who can't handle a heartbreak."
The doctor placed his hand on Sherlock's knee.
"I'm sorry too. Do you want to...tell me more about Victor?"
Sherlock sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. He inhaled deeply before speaking.
"There was something about Victor that made me attach myself to him quicker than with other people. I don't know what it was. I'm usually distant because...because I can't handle people leaving me. So I don't let them get close."
It certainly made sense to John but Sherlock felt that he must've sounded ridiculous. There was another long pause and John waited very patiently for Sherlock to continue.
"When I befriended him, of course the first thing Mycroft did was confront him. It was sometime after that I confessed my feelings, and he said yes. But," Sherlock looked at the floor, "But he liked Mycroft. I brought him to my house to meet my family. I was gone just for a little while and when I came back..."
He trailed off when his eyes started becoming warm with moisture. No. No. He told himself he would not cry. He couldn't cry. That was weak. Weak. Weak. Weak.
"You don't have to go on," John whispered.
Sherlock shook his head. They've come too far already.
"He was trying to kiss Mycroft. Mycroft was upset and trying to push him still...still I was mad at Mycroft first. I blamed him and told him that Victor and I were leaving. But Victor said he didn't love me and he apologized for what he did. Apologized! He left my house without me like it was the easiest thing for him to do."
"What did Mycroft do after that?" John didn't bother to ask whether or not the elder Holmes did do something. The answer to that was obvious.
The taller of the two laughed bitterly. He actually had a genuine smile when he thought back.
"Information leaked out about Victor's drug use and he was kicked out of the uni. I don't know what happened to him after that but I'm sure he had to change his plans for his future."
Sherlock tentatively took a look at John. The doctor was now dressed in his favorite jumpers, his hair was combed neatly and he looked sexy. Sherlock would have him over Victor any day.
John was wondering how to breach the subject of the suicide attempt. But he didn't have to. Sherlock was already willing to let out the information.
"I was upset. So unbelievably upset. I hated everyone. Victor, Mycroft and especially myself. I felt like a damn fool. So when I was back at my dorm, the first thing I did was swallow a bottle of medicine. I can't even remember what the pills were, I just grabbed the first bottle I saw then chugged."
Whatever had become of Victor now, one thing was certain. John would make sure Mycroft's punishment would be nothing compared to what he would do if he ever saw the bastard.
"The next thing I knew, I was in a hospital. I knew that before I even opened my eyes. The smell of it told me very clearly. Mycroft was sitting next to me. I knew that he was the one who saved me. And I hated him even more."
Well that was that. He told John everything. The blonde-haired man rubbed Sherlock's knee in a soothing motion. The bed creaked as Sherlock got out of it.
"You really don't think I'm weak?"
John got up as well. He strode over to get as close as he could to Sherlock. The two men embraced each other in a warm hug, smelling each others' intoxicating scent. Sherlock smelling of cigarettes and soap. John of cheap shampoo and honey.
"You deal with the most dangerous crimes constantly," John said, looking very deeply into Sherlock's eyes, "You. Are. Not. Weak."
And finally, finally Sherlock believed him. They both shared a small kiss.
x
John was walking home with a half gallon of milk in his hands when the car pulled up. He groaned, he can't say he hadn't been expecting this. The door opened and John was surprised there wasn't even that woman inside. He got in and let the driver take him to wherever Mycroft wanted him.
They pulled up at a park John had never been to. There were only a small number of people there and they were out of hearing shot. John got out, leaving his milk in the car and immediately saw Mycroft in his prim suit and umbrella.
"John."
"So, you want to talk?" John came up closer.
One corner of Mycroft's mouth twitched. John was surprised more people weren't here. It was relatively warm for a London morning that John felt he could take a nap under the cloudless sky.
"How's my brother?"
John put his hands in his pockets.
"He and I talked this morning about Victor."
Mycroft seemed interested but not surprised.
"Oh? And he told you about the suicide attempt too?"
John could tell by Mycroft's voice that an attack was waiting.
"Yes."
"Then tell me. If you know how prone my brother is to these sort of...actions, then why do you insist on risking it for your own pleasure?"
John groaned and wondered if he should have come here at all. As if he would have had a choice.
"I'm not going to leave him. And Sherlock is not weak. He can take care of himself."
"He's my responsibility," Mycroft hissed, "I'll decide whether or not he's capable of taking care of himself. And I don't think he can when it comes to romance."
"So what do you plan to do? Keep him chaperoned for the rest of his life? That's not respecting him very much, you know?"
Mycroft took a deliberate step forward.
"This is not about respect. This is about Sherlock's safety. There's still time for you to end this. If you don't, then I'll have to make you disappear. And believe me, no one wants that."
TBC
I'm experimenting with the uses of flashbacks. New chapter will hopefully be up soon. Time me!