A/N: Aloha! Sorry it took me so long to update, schedules aren't really my thing.
Just before we get going, I wanted to thank you all for your endless love and support! You keep me going, whether it's by following this story, faouvriting it or reviewing it. So huge thank yous to each and every one of you, you means the WORLD to me! *hugs and gives cookies to everyone*
Okay, my speech's over now. What would Sherlock say about so much sentiment?...
Anyway, here's what brought you here - chapter 9!
Reid approached the interrogation room where they kept Sherlock slowly, as if he'd manage to realize the message Sherlock had tried to send him by the time he'd get there. When he finally opened the door, he did so quietly, and to his surprise, he found the detective asleep. He closed the door quietly behind him, and sat down noiselessly on the chair in front of him.
He scanned the detective for a short while, and tried to see if he could gather any information from his appearance only like he could. He couldn't see anything important – yes, the detective was a bit pale, and there were dark bags under his eyes, but other than that, nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. His head was sloped backwards, and his mouth was slightly ajar. How does he do that?, Reid wondered.
Sherlock suddenly jumped with a low gasp, and opened his eyes, to find the young doctor sitting in front of him with a very surprised look on his face. He gave him a killer look, and in case it wasn't enough, he added: "If you even think to tell anyone…" he left the threat hanging, as he knew he didn't need to continue it.
Reid swallowed hard. "I won't," he said and meant it. He knew what it was like to have nightmares you don't want anyone to know about, and he couldn't imagine what it must be like for the consulting detective. "I've come here to let you know your brother's here," he quickly changed the subject.
"My brother is what?"
Just then the room's door opened, and Reid leaped to his legs as he saw Mycroft was standing in the doorway.
"Hello, brother dear," Mycroft said, his cold grin back on his face.
"Go away," Sherlock hissed. Reid immediately hurried to leave the room, and then Sherlock called, "Not you."
Spencer froze. He knew he had no reason to be afraid of the older Holmes, but he couldn't help it. It seemed that the whole team was slightly afraid of him – all but Rossi, perhaps. So when Sherlock said something that was clearly going to irritate his brother, Reid wanted to take off as soon as possible.
Just then Spencer realized he was standing much too close to Mycroft. He instantly took a step back, which placed him more in the room than Mycroft.
"Thank you for alerting my brother I'm here, Doctor Reid," the older Holmes said in an ice-cold voice, "You can leave now."
Reid glanced at Sherlock, which glared back, and left the room without any hesitation, as he could vividly see Mycroft using the umbrella in his hand to smash his skull.
He did want to hear the brothers' conversation, however. So he entered the room that led to the other side of the one-way mirror, only to find Hotch, Rossi and John in it. He squeezed his way through and placed himself next to Hotch, which left John by the door. Even though he knew there was no reason to feel like that, he couldn't stand next to John when he knew he kept Sherlock's secret from him, a secret that was affecting his physical and probably mental health. But a secret was a secret, and Reid knew he was going to have to get used to this feeling.
"So, brother dear," Sherlock said, poison dripping from every word, "Since when do you care about what I do?"
Mycroft strode in the room without even glancing at the chair. "Typical alpha behaviour," Hotch commented on that, "He has to stand and walk to feel like he's in control."
"Since I've heard you got arrested for serial killing," the older brother answered coldly.
"I didn't get arrested," the younger corrected immediately, "I told them to arrest me."
"And what's next? Are you going to confess?"
"I might just do that."
That made the older stop walking. "William Sherlock Scott Holmes," he said very quietly and almost terrifyingly-angrily, "Did you kill those people?"
The detective didn't reply. He stared back at him with a bold and determined look in his eyes.
"William?" John suddenly asked. "His first name is William and he chose to refer to himself as Sherlock?"
Reid fought the need to yell at John that it was absolutely irrelevant, but it seemed that he was the only one to think that way. "Classic case of brotherhood jealousy – Sherlock wanted a long and unique name like his brother, so he used his second name to be more like him," Rossi replied.
"Sherlock doesn't deny killing the four victims. In fact, he practically looks guilty," Reid said, as he couldn't hold back his frustration any longer, "And you're talking about his names?"
"It's Sherlock," the army doctor said calmly, "He'd do whatever it takes to spite his brother. He'd tell him he was in charge of Nine Eleven if he'd think it could upset him."
In the interrogation room, Mycroft tilted his head slightly and narrowed his eyes. "Are you really that stupid?"
"I'm not stupid," Sherlock instinctively spat back.
"Oh, but you are. You definitely are, because you are back on the drugs again and you think it's an excuse for everything you've done," Mycroft said, and even though he was with his back to the team, they could all see he was holding back his anger, which was getting more and more difficult by the minute.
"Did he say drugs?" John asked furiously, and was ready to dash out of the room as Rossi grasped his wrist.
"Wait," he said, "Let's see what he says."
John exhaled loudly, to tell the agent he would do as he was asked but he wasn't happy about it.
"Like you even care," Sherlock muttered then.
Mycroft clenched his jaw, and the right hand that was holding his umbrella turned white from the strength of his grasp. "You're my brother, Sherlock," he answered quietly, "And since you clearly don't know how to look after yourself, someone should do that."
"Go to hell," the detective snarled at him.
Mycroft straightened his back, subconsciously trying to appear as tall as possible. "Have it your way," he said with a small cold grin, as if nothing had happened, and strode out of the room.
Aaron looked at Rossi, which looked at him back like he was crazy. "I'm not going to talk to him," the latter informed the former.
"Someone should. His help is invaluable and we can't afford to lose it. You're the only one who knows him, so it has to be you," Aaron said.
David sulked a bit, but sighed in defeat. "Fine. But you owe me."
Hotchner offered a small smile, and Rossi left the room.
Then, the American agents noticed that John left with him, and that the interrogation room's door just opened. The two immediately rushed to the room next door.
John was angry. No, angry was underestimating the fierceness of his emotions. He was furious. Almost manic. Because not only that his best friend almost confessed a crime he was still certain he hadn't committed, he had also deteriorated back to drugs. And the worst part of it all? John had no idea.
When he entered the room, Sherlock's expression changed. Ever since he got arrested he looked cold, distant and hateful – but when he saw the mad and hurt look in John's eyes, his expression changed. It wasn't a dramatic change, it wasn't even very visible, but something about him seemed to have melted, and he looked just a bit sorry.
"Let me see your arms," John said quietly, and Sherlock knew exactly how much anger was concealed behind this quiet request.
"John…"
"Your arms, Sherlock. Now."
Sherlock took of his coat and pulled up his sleeves to reveal his arms. John took a couple of steps closer, without even noticing the FBI agents that were standing in the doorway. As soon as he saw the puncture marks on his left arm, a small smile spread on his face. Unfortunately for Sherlock, he already knew that smile – whenever John was angry, really angry, he just smiled. And that smile meant that it would be impossible to appease him.
As the detective expected, the army doctor stormed out of the room, pushed his way through the doorway without even seeing the two men that were standing there.
Reid wanted to say something. Anything. But when he saw the look in Sherlock's eyes, he changed his mind. Because the look he was giving him contained nothing but pure hatred and disgust, and it was more than clear that if he wasn't capable of murdering anyone until then, he sure was from that moment.
Garcia and JJ noticed how angry John was only when he walked right past them. Luckily for them, he bumped into Morgan on his way out.
"John?" he asked in confusion, as it was very unlike the army doctor to push his way through without providing an apology, or even a single glance.
The girls approached them just in time to hear his response. "I'm sorry, I just… I need a break," he apologized half-heartedly without meeting their eyes.
"A break from what?" JJ asked.
"From everything. From Sherlock. I don't know," he admitted and shook his head, "I need to go home for a while. I have a pregnant wife waiting for me, which is just as important as – Christ, she's more important than Sherlock."
"No use in going to an empty house," a voice suddenly said, and the four of them turned around to see a very pregnant woman standing next to them.
"Mary?" John cried, "What the hell are you doing here?" he gave Morgan a short glance, and the latter instantly found a chair and gave it to Mary, who sat down tiredly on it as she mumbled a small 'thank you'.
"Well, you didn't come home, and I got bored," she replied nonchalantly. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your friends?" she asked, as if that was the most obvious thing to do at the moment.
John frowned slightly at her request, as he couldn't see the purpose of the introduction. "Fine," said his wife as she attempted to get up from her seat, "I'll introduce myself."
John put his hand on her shoulder and pushed her back down gently, and JJ immediately stepped forward to keep the woman seated. "My name is Jennifer Jareau, and these are special agents Derek Morgan and Penelope Garcia," she presented herself and her friends and shook the pregnant woman's hand.
"Agents?" she asked in bewilderment. "What's the FBI doing here?"
"We're in the Behavioural Analysis Unit," Morgan explained, "We came here to help the local police investigate the recent murders."
Mary giggled. "And how much trouble has Sherlock caused you so far?"
Her smile vanished as she saw the serious expression on everyone's expressions, especially the angry one on John's face. "What's wrong?"
"Sherlock is sort of our main suspect now," Garcia offered the mumbled explanation.
Her mouth fell open. "Are you serious? He didn't kill anyone. Tell them, John!" she said, and glanced at her husband in determination, certain that they were completely on the same side. After a moment had passed and she realized her husband remained quiet, she looked at him again, but this time gave him a long concerned look. "John?" she asked softly.
"He's back on the drugs, Mary," he said quietly. "He's using again, and now he's about to confess killing four people, and I didn't even…" his voice broke, and he closed his eyes.
Mary's hand was immediately sent to her husband's shoulder, and she squeezed it comfortingly. "Can you give us a moment?" she asked the Americans tenderly, and they all nodded immediately.
"If you'll need anything…" Garcia said, and got a small nod from the pregnant woman in return.
The three of them walked back to the team's room, and just before they entered it, Garcia spoke.
"Do you think he'll be okay?" she asked worriedly.
"He just discovered that his best friend started using drugs – apparently again. Sherlock has betrayed his trust, and it's not going to be easy for John to forgive him for that. But I think he will, eventually," JJ said.
"I really hope so," Morgan admitted. "Holmes is a jerk, but John's a good man. He just had a really bad taste in best friends," he added bitterly, and the three looked at Hotch, who was walking towards the room, and noticed Reid wasn't with him.
The team leader stopped at the doorway and scanned the three. "I thought Reid was with you."
"Wasn't he with you?"
"He was, but then he told me he was going to join you."
"Where is he, then?"
The fourth of them looked in the direction of the interrogation room simultaneously.
A/N: And the plot thickens... Sherlock back on the drugs, John breaking down, and Reid taking off to the interrogation room by himself. Just Reid and the very annoyed consulting detective in the same room, how would THAT turn out?
Did you like it? Did you hate it? Any questions, plot holes, problems? If there's anything you want to say, put it in a review or PM me!
That's it for now, folks. I'll try to update as soon as possible... Have a great week! *grins and waves*
