"John!"
Sherlock burst through the front door. He started searching for his flatmate. He took a quick scan of the kitchen and living area. He walked through the hall, checked the toilet, his bedroom. He returned to the stairwell.
For what purpose would John be in his room?
He made his way upstairs to John's door. Sherlock turned the door handle and swung the door wide open. No sign of John. He rushed downstairs. The front door showed no signs of forced entry. Then again, it wouldn't if the lock were picked. He went to the kitchen, opened the fridge. Milk. No reason for John to go to the store. Sherlock began to panic. He looked for a note, a clue, a sign, anything!
The flat, though a mess, was in order. Sherlock rushed to the desk. John's gun was in its very clever 'hiding' spot, under the false drawer. He hadn't time to retrieve his handgun before he was...
Kidnapped.
Sherlock began turning in place, trying to think. Observe. Then John walked through the front door, groceries in hand.
"John!" He ran to John and looked him over. "What were you thinking? Going out like that?"
"I popped out for maybe ten minutes. We needed groceries."
"We have milk!" Sherlock said exacerbated.
"Mm. Milk for dinner." John placed the groceries down.
"Eating! Always eating."
"Yeah. Sometimes I do it three times a day"
"John... don't be clever. It doesn't suit you."
"Ta!" John said smacking his lips. He picked up the bags and brought them to the kitchen. The kitchen table was out of commission from the premature ejaculation incident. So, John had to cram the groceries on the one spot of the counter top that wasn't cluttered with junk. He started to put away cans. John could almost feel the heat from Sherlock's glare. He turned around. "I don't know why my going to the store sent you into a panic." Sherlock stared at him. "Next time I'll leave a note. I thought you were going to be at Bart's for a while. You've been at the case non-stop for three days."
"It's been called off."
"What? Why?"
"The man died of natural causes."
"Oh thank God. Well... not for him I suppose." John let out a sigh of relief "I thought this whole 'Irene Adler' thing was starting to seep into your work-life as well."
"You mean to say that it is affecting other aspects of my life?" Sherlock looked royally pissed off by the acquisition.
"Look. We haven't done anything together in a week. Since this whole business with-"
"God, John. Is it always about sex with you?"
"Sherlock. This has nothing to do with sex. I mean you haven't even touched me, not once, over the past few days." Sherlock walked into the kitchen and placed a hand on John's chest.
"Look, I'm touching you. Now get off it." Sherlock pulled away and turned to retreat.
"Damnit Sherlock. Every time I even come near you. You push me away. I'm sick of it. You're treating me worse than shit." John shouted to the back of Sherlock's head. Sherlock turned to face him.
"I was concerned about your safety! You could have been taken." He sneered.
"Oh right, this is about psycho-bitch."
"John, there is absolutely no reason to resort to such crudeness."
"I forgot. You fucked her. Still have feelings then?" John turned away. He had a tear forming in his eye. He didn't want Sherlock to see he had worked him up so much. "Lot of people, they've got skeletons in their closet." John turned back to Sherlock and wiped his tear away "Your skeleton is such a whore."
Sherlock bit his lower lip and held back a smile. John looked down at the floor grinning. They both started laughing. It felt good to be so immature at times. John walked over, wrapped his arms around Sherlock, and pulled him in for a hug. Sherlock accepted the embrace. John let out a sigh. Finally they were touching again.
"I'm so... distracted by the video. It has infiltrated my defences and is always in the back of my mind. Constantly nagging for my attention." He looked down at John.
Just like you.
Sherlock was being nice enough to let some of his inside thoughts stay inside.
"You still haven't told me who was in the video." He pulled away from Sherlock and held his forearms. "Out with it. You know at least one of them."
"I do." Sherlock looked to the ceiling.
"Obviously you find it disturbing that this person was in the video. He's probably close. Even you care sometimes." Sherlock let out a huff of frustration at the comment. "Who was it then?"
"I don't... wish to say..." Sherlock was holding back, not yet ready to admit who it was.
"Fine. I'll ramble off a list. You tell me if I hit my mark." Sherlock groaned. He felt a knot in his stomach. He knew a lot of people, but people that were close to him, that was a short list. John thought a moment about who Sherlock knew, who he was close to, and who he didn't want to see naked with another man. "Uh... Old boyfriend? Anderson? Eww... no... hold up." John had to shake the thought out of his head. "Someone from uni, Sebastian Wilkes? The prime minister... no wait you wouldn't recognize him. One of the princes? An ambassador? Someone from parliament? Anything? The pope! I don't fucking know! Mycroft!"
Sherlock looked down into John's eyes. John let out a gasp. "Your brother..." He said. His voice went so deep it rasped. He took his hands off Sherlock. He gasped again. "No" he said, drawing out the 'o'. "What." He stated "What? Seriously... what?" Sherlock was stiff from embarrassment. He rarely blushed, but he was so ashamed. "No wonder you're freaking. I'm freaking out! He's not even... God Sherlock, he's your brother. What?" Sherlock turned and set out for his chair.
"I know" He said as he plopped down. John nervously took his seat from across Sherlock. He leaned forward at the edge of his seat and fiddled with his hands. He was nervous. He too was now emotionally attached to the video and he was convinced he didn't even like Mycroft.
"With who?" John's leg was shaking up and down.
"I haven't the slightest idea." Sherlock bit at his thumb. He was leaned back in his chair, just as nervous as John, but not letting it show.
"Well it isn't a commoner. This is one of those... scandals. He's probably with someone high up as well." John thought a moment. "Who would want to get with…" He motioned his hands straight up and down "That."
John looked to Sherlock. Sherlock was staring at the floor. John was being rude again. He hadn't meant to of course, but sometimes he needed a filter when it came to speaking about people in front of Sherlock. Sherlock had been such a bad influence when it came to speaking one's mind, that some of it was rubbing off on John.
"We need to do a reversal and spy on Mycroft. Figure out who he's been seeing."
"What good would it do? So we'd know who the other man is. That doesn't solve our problem."
"Might help... I don't know... could give em fair warning"
"They already know what they're doing"
"Yeah, but they don't know they've been caught. Knowing your brother, he is probably taking every precaution to keep this under wraps"
"He was being careless. He deserves what he gets."
"No he doesn't, he's your brother!"
"You say that like it is something important."
"It is! If my sister, bless, was high up in the government and was caught red-handed on tape doing something scandalous, I'd be concerned." It was a poor comparison, John knew it.
"You care, far too much" Sherlock let out a sigh.
"Only to balance out your complete lack of caring at times. Look at you! You're a wreck from just the thought of this video being sent out. Don't tell me you don't care at least a tiny bit."
"This will destroy him." Sherlock sat up at the edge of his chair, he too started shaking his leg.
"Well... how could they pin it on him? The video wasn't too clear."
"You fool. She probably has ten more, in high-definition, with stage lighting. She only showed you the worst of the bunch to see if I could work this out for myself. She wants to see my mind in action. She wants..."
What does she want?
"John, you're right" John jumped back in shock. He was right, for once "We need to find out who the other man is. Only then will she reveal her intentions."
"Any leads?"
"None in the slightest."
"I'll get my coat." Sherlock and John smiled inappropriately at the thought of a new case.
The Case of the Buggered Bureaucrat
