First off I want to say sorry for the long wait. I've had this typed up for a while, but I just haven't been able to upload it. This one will be he only one from John's POV. I wasn't going to do any, but I couldn't leave this scene out. Sorry it's a bit long.
Also just a heads up. In case there in any inconsistency John is 17, and Sherlock is 15 in the flashbacks. In the present John is 34 and Sherlock is 33, because it takes place in march Sherlock already had his birthday. They also last saw each other 18 years ago.
Disclaimer; I own nothing.
John sighed limping outside. He couldn't believe the way Sherlock's 'colleagues' treated him. Sherlock was a genius, not to mention a person. He deserved to be treated as much. John was still surprised to have met his old friend. it had been the last thing he had expected when Mike had led him down those halls. He was worried that things would be awkward after...the last time they had seen each other, but it seemed fine. He looked around, but as he expected Sherlock was nowhere in sight. Even if he had waited for him John would have slowed Sherlock down with his leg. John knew that wouldn't sit well with his old friend.
"He's gone." John turned to the woman from earlier, Sally Donovan. He knew didn't like her already, but he wasn't one to be rude.
"Who, Sherlock?" He asked.
"Yeah, he just took off. He does that." She sneered.
"Trust me, I know. Is he coming back?" Donovan frowned a bit at the first part.
"Didn't look like it." John nodded.
"Right. Right...Yes. Sorry where I'm I?" She looked him over.
"Brixton."
"Do you know where I could get a cab? It's just er...well- my leg." He ran a hand over his bad leg. John wasn't sure he would ever get used to the limp. Her eyes seemed to soften a bit, but John hated that more. The pity.
"Er...try the main road." She point off down the street.
"Thanks." He nodded. John stared to limp off when her voice called him back.
"But you're not his friend. He doesn't have friends. So who are you?"
"He has me, and I'm his friend." John snapped. Donovan's eyes widened a bit then she scowled again.
"Okay, a bit of advice then. Don't be his friend." She crossed her arms and continued on not picking up on the obvious 'back off' in John's tone.
"Why?" He asked.
"You know why he's here? He's not payed or anything. He likes it. He gets off on it. The weirder the crime, the more he gets off. And you know what..? One day just showing up won't be enough. One day we'll be standing around a body, and he'll be the one that put it there." She said smugly John wanted to hit this woman so badly, but it was against his moral code.
"Why would he do that?" He humored her.
Because he's a psychopath. Psychopaths get bored." Donovan said simply as Lestrade stepped out of the house behind them.
"Donovan!" He called her over. She looked back at her boss.
"Coming.' She called back. "Stay away from Sherlock Holmes." She warned and then was gone.
John turned walking down the street. He tried to hail a few cabs, but they didn't stop. He looked over at the phone ringing in the window of a restaurant John was starting to think he was going crazy. This was the second phone to ring as he walked by. A man walked over to answer the phone, but it stopped ringing the moment he neared. John shook it off and kept walking. He stopped and looked at the next phone ringing. This was just odd. He sighed. What could it hurt? John stepped into the telephone box picking up the phone to put it to his ear. It was probably the wrong number.
"Hello?"
"There is a security camera on the building to your left. Do you see it?"John didn't recognize the voice.
"Who is this? Who's speaking?"
"Do you see the camera, Dr. Watson?" Oh, this was not good. He looked over at the building.
"Yes, I see it." He answered.
"Watch..." John watched as the camera turned away to face the other direction. "There is another camera on the building opposite you. Do you see it?" The voice continued.
"Mm-hm." It moved again.
"And finally on the top of the building to your right." He watched as the next camera turned away from him.
"How are you doing this?" John demanded. A black car with tented windows pulled up. John's stomach knotted this was not good at all.
"Get into the car, Dr. Watson. I would make some sort of threat, but I'm sure your situation is quiet clear to you." John couldn't see a way out of this. Whoever this was could move CCTV cameras and have ringing phones follow him, they he would have thought this through. John hung up the phone and limped to the car. He climbed in. A woman sat next to him her eyes glued to her phone. Her dark swept from her face. John looked over at her then back to the front.
"Hello." She looked at him almost startled at his greeting.
"Hi." She looked back at her phone.
"What's your name.?" He asked. She looked a bit amused this time.
"Er.. Anthea."
"Is that your real name?" She smirked shaking her head.
"No." John nodded.
"I'm John." He tried.
"Yes, I know."
"Any point in asking where I'm going?" She looked at him pointedly.
"None, at all...John."
"Okay." John sighed.
John stepped out of the car into a large warehouse. A man stood in the middle of the room. He looked out-of-place in a tailored three-piece suit. He gripped an umbrella in his hand like a cane leaning his weight against it slightly. The man seemed to exude power and danger. John slowly limped over to stood in front of him. He was tall, taller than Sherlock even. Something about this man seem oddly familiar to John. The man smirked at him.
"Have a seat, John." He motioned to the lone chair in front of him. John stood tall, back straight.
"You know, I got a phone. I mean, very clever and all that, but er... you could just phone me." John remarked.
"When one is avoiding the attention of Sherlock Holmes, one learns to be discreet, hence this place. Your leg must be hurting you. Sit down." Of course, this is about Sherlock, great. John was not about to sit down. This wasn't about his leg or the chair, this was about power. By sitting down John would be giving in. Not only that, but leaving this man as the only one standing was a psychological power-play. To make him feel weak.
"I don't want to sit down." John said firmly.
"You don't seem very afraid." He cocked his head.
"You don't seem very frightening." John countered. Which was a lie. This man could probably snap his fingers and he would be dead. Laid out on the cold cement a bullet in his head and a pool of blood at this mysterious man's feet. He laughed.
"Yes...The bravery of the soldier. Bravery is by far the kindest word for stupidity, don't you think?" He said inspecting the tip of his umbrella. He looked up at John fixing him a cold look before he posed his next question. "What are your intentions towards Sherlock Holmes, now?" He scowled. John frowned he had heard this before. His head shot up.
"Mycroft." He smirked.
"Very good."
John watched as the rest of his team filed out of the locker room for Rugby practice. John saw a man walking up the field, but brushed him off. He was likely a parent or even a teacher. John really couldn't tell for sure at this distance.
"Alright, let get to work we have a big game coming up and we need to get to work if we want to win." John told his team. They all nodded enthusiastically some letting out cheers or whooping. John grinned.
"Excuse me, Mr. Watson?" John turned. It was the man he saw earlier. He was a tall bulky man in his twenty's. Defiantly not a teacher.
"Yes, can I help you?" John asked.
"Would you come with me please."
"I'm just starting our Rugby practice, but I can talk to you later." He said politely, but the other man frowned.
"Sorry, that won't do." He said lifting John over his shoulder. John cried out in shock. It wasn't everyday a man tossed him over his shoulder like the seventeen year old weighted nothing.
"Put me down!" John demanded. The man didn't respond just began walking off. He walked across the field to a black car that sat in the parking lot. He put John down.
"Get in." He ordered. John glared, but he knew it was stupid to argue. He climbed into the car expecting the worst. A man sat on a row of seats facing him. He was in his early twenty's with ginger hair combed down and a smug grin.
"John Watson, pleasure to finally meet you. I've heard a lot about you." He looked John over.
"Who the hell are you, and what do you want?" John demanded narrowing his eyes.
"I just want to talk." He said simply.
"Can't you talk to me like a normal person? You didn't have to kidnap me!" The strange man just shrugged.
"I wanted to make my words stick. I understand you have taken an interest in Sherlock Holmes." He said inspecting his nails. John was dumbstruck. That what this was? He was kidnapped for Sherlock Holmes.
"I took up for him, yes. I don't think he even likes me. He never talked to me the rest of lunch just looked at me every few minutes. He seems like a decent bloke, and he doesn't deserve to be treated like that though." John told him thinking back on yesterday. The man looked over him.
"Trust me, he likes you. Quite a bit actually." He raised an eyebrow suggestively. "He sees you as so knight in shiny armor." John frowned. That was wrong. There was no way Sherlock liked him. John wasn't sure how he could face Sherlock knowing that he fancied him. John wasn't gay, and he didn't know if he could get past the awkwardness of knowing that. More importantly how did this man know this?
"How would you know?" John asked.
"You see I'm very close to my baby brother. He couldn't wait to call and tell me all about his little hero." He sneered.
"Brother!" John couldn't believe it. Sherlock's brother had kidnapped him. The man nodded.
"Mycroft Holmes." John just nodded. "So John, popular, smart, playboy. Tell me why would someone like you stand up for someone like my brother."
"Because, it was the right thing to do. My Dad is in the army, my mother died of cancer when I was ten, and my older sister drinks. I'm not just some popular airhead. I'm a good person. I don't think it's right to push people around." Mycroft looked him over and nodded seemingly happy with his answer.
"I'm warring you now. If you hurt my brother you'll regret it. He may be a genius, but he is very... innocent. I don't trust you honestly. Don't break his heart John, because you do have it." Mycroft narrowed him eyes. John swallowed nodding his head.
"Yes, sir. I never intended to hurt your brother." John told him Mycroft just smirked at the word sir.
"Very well. I hope I won't have to see you again, Mr. Watson. You can return to your rugby practice now." John nodded climbing out of the car. He quickly ran off down the field leaving behind a smirking Mycroft.
John watched Mycroft. He looked the same as twenty-two years ago just older...and bigger. He smirked at John turning his head to the side.
"I don't have any intentions, Mycroft. He is an old friend who I ran into again. Why don't you ask him yourself?" John bit back. This man was getting on his nerves. Mycroft sighed.
"My brother and I aren't as close as we used to be. You see he convinced himself I drove you away. He needed someone to blame that wasn't himself. I'm sure you can imagine what he thought when you disappeared after your last..meeting." He scowled. John looked down embarrassed thinking about the pool and shook his head.
"He told you about that?"
"He was so happy. His John liked him back." Mycroft sneered.
"I didn't plan on leaving. It wasn't because of what happened at the pool." John's phone buzzed in his pocket and he was glad for an excuse to look away from Mycroft. He pulled out his mobile.
'221B Come at once if convenient. SH'
"Hope I'm not distracting you."
"You're not distracting me at all." John shot back.
"If you move into..." He pulled out a notebook from his jacket pocket."Erm... 221B Baker Street. Will you attempt to continue your relationship with my brother?" The phone went off again.
'Come at once if inconvenient. SH'. John sighed, another text. "Could be dangerous. SH'
"I intend to continue our friendship. Not that it's your business." Mycroft frowned.
"Then welcome back to the battle field of London, Dr. Watson. You've seen it before though, haven't you? I hope you'll stick around this time." He turn walking off swinging an umbrella. Anthea walked up to him still on her phone.
"I'll take you home. Address?" John thought for a minute.
"Baker Street. 221B Baker Street. But I need to stop off somewhere first."
John climbed back in the car now with his army L9A1 Browning at his side. It felt nice to carry it again. He had missed the reassuring weight at his side. It was hard to believe that it was this morning that gun had looked so friendly. He looked at the woman.
"Listen your boss, Mycroft. Any chance you can not tell him this is where I went?"John asked when they pulled up to Baker street. She raised an eyebrow.
"Sure."
"You've already told him, haven't you?" He asked.
"Yeah." Anthea confirmed. John looked over at Anthea.
"Hey erm... do you get any free time?" She smirked.
"Oh, yeah lots bye..." She said sarcastically. John took the hint.
"Okay." He said quickly climbing from the car. Well so much for that.