"Time to choose a side, Doctor Watson…" The mysterious man in the three piece suit twirled his umbrella and began to walk away when he started at the sound of sneakers squeaking behind him.
The man with the umbrella turned and smiled over John Watson's shoulder. "Ah, I see you've made powerful friends already, Dr. Watson. I'm not sure if this is the right one for you, though Doctor. He's slightly dangerous for your taste, don't you think? He has a bit of a penchant for guns and war, and I know you generally consider yourself to be a pacifist."
John spun around, and rolled his eyes at the sight of The Doctor, the one with the converse shoes and the-bum-knee-which-was-no-longer-bum running across the warehouse floor. "Mycroft." The Doctor smiled, stretched out his hand which the other man limply took. "Don't worry… Anthea is it? I'll take him home."
John dropped his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. The Doctor slapped him on his good shoulder in a friendly manner. "Hey there John, how are you doing?"
"Terrible."
Mycroft grimaced and looked away, and the other man, The Doctor frowned. "Did Mycroft do something? What's going on John?"
"Look, it's been two days, and I've been stalked, threatened, and dragged around by how many men? Stamford, this Doctor, the other Doctor, this… man in a suit, and of course Sherlock, the man that you all seem so interested in, especially through me. What's so important about me anyway? I'm a broken down army doctor." Scowling, John slouched down, and started to limp towards the door.
"Where are you going John Watson?" The Doctor murmured.
"I need my gun. I have to get my gun."
Mycroft exchanged glances with the doctor whose lip twitched in mild distaste.
"And why do you need a gun, Doctor Watson?" Mycroft smirked.
"Because obviously he needs someone to protect him from you crazy lot. You're all fighting over him; because he's brilliant. Apparently I'm supposed to be something you can use to get to him. Well, okay, but I'm not, not yet. But, if you're going to blame me for something I haven't done yet before I do it, I might as well start doing it. Why not?" He gave a tight little smile. "I'm not good for much besides patching up wounds and fighting. I suppose I make a good fit with Sherlock Holmes, who seems to be an excellent strategist. I'd much rather have him using me than you lot."
"John. Before you go wandering off, come over here," The Doctor demanded, shoving his hands in his pocket.
John stopped and turned around. "I'm the one with a limp. You come here."
The Doctor smirked, bounced on the balls of his feet, and walked over to the army doctor. He put a hand on John's shoulder that John eyed suspiciously. "You really are amazing. Why choose him? Why indeed. And you're right, people are already using you to get to him. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't."
Flicking his tongue between his lips, John leaned into The Doctor. "Then stay away from us."
"Fascinating. It's 'us' now, is it?" Mycroft twirled his umbrella again, and fiddled with putting one of his feet in front of the other. "So much for encouraging you to choose your side. I can see quite clearly that you already have."
The Doctor grinned broadly.
John decided to forgo other forms of transportation and pay for a cab.
