A/N: Sorry this chapter's short and it's been a while. Here you are.
"Dr. Watson, how long have you been in a wheelchair?"
"Uh...a little more than a month, now."
Dr. Pennypacker stared down John, his green eyes questioning over the rims of his glasses. "Don't you think that's a legitimate amount of time for Mr. Holmes to decide that you're unneeded? You said that he was exceedingly stubborn. But you also said that he was intolerant of people who are in his way. One month seems a long enough time for him to make a decision."
"He's more stubborn than you think." John did not want to talk about it any longer. He knew he was right, he didn't need anyone telling him otherwise.
Dr. Pennypacker sensed this and changed the subject. "I don't believe I was hired to talk about Mr. Holmes. I came to talk about you. What's the trouble, Dr. Watson?"
John took a deep breath. "I can't leave the house." The therapist wrote something down in his notes. "And why not?"
"Because..." John murmured. "Because...it- it-" He suddenly got a very bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. "It feels like I'm being watched..." he breathed, moving his head, searching for something, anything, anyone. He half-expected a sniper to be waiting for a signal right outside the window.
"And is this all the time?"
John kept looking around, twisting his body to look behind him, paranoid. "No," he replied, distracted,"it's...just right now...and, and whenever I...open the door downstairs..." Finally, his brown eyes locked in on something.
A video camera. On top of the fridge.
A video camera that wasn't Mycroft's.
Mycroft chased his younger brother down the alley. Sherlock saw the shadowed man and ran faster. So did the the shadowed man.
"Sherlock!" Mycroft called. "Sherlock, stop!" Sherlock didn't listen. He kept running, turning where the shadow turned, his footsteps matching the man he was chasing. He wanted this man, wanted to catch him, wanted to hurt him for hurting John, for making life so boring and dull and complicated-
And the man was gone. Suddenly, disappeared. The detective stopped and spun around several times, growling in frustration. No, he had been right in front of him! He had been so close!
"Sherlock," Mycroft said. They were in a very dark alley. Even Sherlock couldn't be sure of where in London they were. "Stop. He's gone now, and you didn't even know if it was him. You need to calm down."
"How can I?" Sherlock exclaimed. "I was so close, Mycroft! I swear I could have caught him! For John's sake! He still thinks that Olsewski is locked away! How am I supposed to be calm when he's still trying to kill us?"
What is the matter with you?" Mycroft demanded, breathing hard. "You're awfully high-strung nowadays."
"Nothing," Sherlock's tone was clipped. "John has enough on his hands already."
"Yes," his older brother replied,"one of those things being you, complaining and growling and lying to your friend." Sherlock's gray eyes narrowed. "I cannot believe you," the detective hissed. "You've been spying on us with your cameras! Listening to every secret word, watching our every moves! And right after John was discharged from the hospital!"
Sherlock knew that he shouldn't continue, that Mycroft was already embarrassed and down for the count, but he was boiling; on fire with his rage. "Olsewski is still out there! He's crazy! He could be doing anything! You've been staring at us like bloody God with your secret cameras! He could be tapped into them! He could have found our address! He could have someone in our flat right at this-" He stopped very suddenly.
"The therapist."
A/N: Cliffhanger! *dramatic chord* I want this to be a long story overall, but I'm not promising anything. The Hobbit comes out ithe streets next week! I'm so excited, it's the same day as my orchestra concert!
Fun Fact of the Chapter: Martin Freeman is a vegetarian.
