When John woke up the next morning, he headed to Sherlock's and almost turned around and took a taxi back home. Yesterday, he spent hours trying to get information out of the older Holmes brothers, getting little to no information. He, in that time, learned to appreciate Sherlock's proclivity to what John liked to call showing off. If he had taken after Mycroft, he would never learn anything.
"Good morning," a very alive and well, Merlin spoke, not even looking up from the paper he was reading.
John opened his mouth, closed it, and then shook his head. Sitting down right next to the young man, he asked very innocently, "How are you?"
"Alive," Merlin smiled wryly looking up to him. His eyes twinkled with something that John couldn't place, but he knew that despite appearances, Merlin was defiantly a Holmes. He couldn't believe he doubted it for a second. Stupid him.
Sherlock must have been laughing at him the entire time.
"Cairo? Really?" Sherlock blurted out, barely into the room before his words invaded the air.
"I plead the fifth," Merlin didn't even turn to look at him. John blinked. He knew the American term, but it sounded funny in Merlin's distinctly Welsh accent.
John watched Sherlock scowl. "And last month, there were five dead executives I can trace back to you."
The younger brother didn't even flinch, "No you can't, or I wouldn't be sitting here: no?"
"I wouldn't turn you in. Mycroft, however, would love to get proof. Just thinking trapping you in some government contact makes him excited. You are way too good at avoiding him." Sherlock said the last part jealously.
"Well," Merlin sighed and finished his coffee, "I best be going. I brought these. I still have the pictures from high school graduation, so don't even think about doing anything with them…"
Merlin slid over a manila folder, "It's nice seeing you John. Tell Mary "hello" for me. And the new puppy too."
Merlin slid out of the house, walking like a ghost, no footsteps to speak.
"Do I have dog hair on me?" John asked. He was sure that he didn't.
"No," Sherlock gave, "But the dog had an accident this morning and their faint smell on your clothes."
"Really?" John closed his eyes, calming himself.
"Hmm," Sherlock eyed the folder. "Oh yes, not bad, mind you. I didn't notice until he pointed it out, but I already knew of the dog of course. Mary sent me a picture."
John sighed. Once again, Merlin proved to be a Holmes.
"What's in there?" John asked, not sure if he wanted to know. He didn't seriously believe that it was pictures of dead Moriarty. That would be insane, but then again, Merlin looked perfectly alright.
Sherlock grabbed the folder, pleased, and took it to sit down. John followed obediently, needing answers.
Sherlock smiled his creepy grimace that caused the worst of criminals to balk, but John just to relent to inevitable; Sherlock had something up.
"John; Merlin has gifted me with information regarding the terrorist group Catha who are particularly nasty. Originally I believed Merlin was part of them, but know I think I have pinpointed his loyalties."
"Terrorist group? Merlin? Are you saying that your brother…?" John's eyes widened. He had accepted that Merlin was like his brothers, but he hadn't expected him to by anything but a force of good.
"More of an affiliate of assassins; the Catha's specialize in torture for information," Sherlock informed then quirked, "What did you think Merlin did?"
"A uni student." John stated, trying to reconcile Merlin with the image he had of heartless assassins.
"John," Sherlock gave him that look which implied that he wasn't up to snuff with the keeping up part of being around him. "Merlin, I believe, is part of the Druids. He's an assassin and a good one at that. It's hard for me to pinpoint when he started. Probably five years ago-"
"He would be fifteen!"
"-but I can't be sure. Now, I think he's killing for Arthur Pendragon."
"The Prince?" John now wished he would have turned around and went back home.
"Is there another?" Sherlock asked; John couldn't figure out whether he was serious or not.
"Well," Sherlock eyes danced. "I'm heading out. Are you joining?"
"Yeah-" John blinked, "What? No, I have a," John suddenly withered under Sherlock's gaze, "a dog training thing."
Sherlock didn't bother with begging him; he simply swept out of the room leaving John rather discombobulated with all the information.
Before he left, John noticed that a paper had slipped out of the folder.
One picture lay on the group. Hanging upside down and blindfolded, was none other than Moriarty.
Written in Merlin's messy scrawl, were the words: Have fun. You owe me.
Suddenly, John remembered that Sherlock said that Mary told him about the dog, no doubt mentioning the training. He knew that John would have something going on and wouldn't follow. Or maybe, he left the paper on purpose so that John would follow.
Either way, John's eyes widened and he knew he couldn't leave it.
"Sherlock!" John bellowed, sprinting out the door.