This chapter is a little shorter than the rest, so I apologise in advance for that. The next should be good and long. =]
Sherlock didn't allow himself to think about what he had just done to John to keep him from coming out after him. He knew the second he started thinking about it, he wouldn't be able to stop thinking about it, about what John might have thought about it, about how it made Sherlock himself feel like he was going to be sick and—
But no. He had to play his part very well or things would go terribly wrong.
In Sherlock's head, he both paid attention and didn't to the next few minutes. This happened to him sometimes. His body went on auto-pilot, his mind doing everything he needed to do without consciously deciding to. If he had to look back on the moments, he could recall them easily, but otherwise, he remembered very little between when the police man saw him outside and when he was sitting inside an interrogation room. He had admitted no guilt, insisted that he was just walking by. Nobody mentioned anything about him being with someone else, so he figured John was safe. Hopefully he wouldn't go noble and come in and confess that he was with Sherlock. That would ruin everything.
Sherlock was leaning back in his chair, trying as much as he could to look petulant and stupid. Then a man walked in. Sherlock kept from smirking as he realised it was the Detective Inspector. DI Lestrade, specifically. He and his son looked very much alike.
And, DI Lestrade obviously thought he was clever, which was exactly how Sherlock was going to fool him. Because with the way Sherlock was sitting, the look on his face, Lestrade Senior already had doubts, was thinking that a young, moron of a boy like this could never be The Notesman.
But he sat down anyway, looking Sherlock up and down. "So, Mr Holmes, you were seen at the scene of the crime."
Sherlock's mouth dropped open. "What crime?" he asked loudly, confusedly. His accent sounded different than usual, rougher. "I'm not allowed to walk around outside anymore, am I?"
"Don't act as if you don't know what I mean. You didn't see the man on the doorstep of Scotland Yard, tied up with a nice little note in his mouth?"
"A man... on the doorstep?" Sherlock asked, dumbfounded. Then he chuckled. "Why'd you leave a man on the doorstep?"
Lestrade was obviously losing faith in the fact that it could be Sherlock every moment, which was of course Sherlock's intention.
"We didn't, but somebody did."
Then Sherlock's eyes got all wide. "Wait, you think it was me? I was just walkin' home from the pub, sir, honest! I'm a student at Westwood! I—you think—" Sherlock pretended to start having a mild panic attack.
"Mr Holmes, calm down, please. It's only suspicious that you were out there just around the time it happened is all. Did you see anything?"
Sherlock wiped at the tears on his face and sniffed. "No, I really didn't see anything. I promise I didn't!"
Lestrade put a hand up to stop Sherlock's blabbering and nodded, standing up and leaving the room.
Sherlock continued to look worried and stupid for the benefit of the two-way mirror, which hid other officers waiting for Sherlock to do something suspicious.
Then Lestrade Senior walked back in and immediately Sherlock knew something had happened from the look on his face.
"You're free to go," he said. Nothing else. No more questions, when obviously there should have been more to ask.
Sherlock scowled. There was only one way Sherlock was being let go that easily.
Mycroft.
As Sherlock knew already, Mycroft was out in the lobby. Sherlock came up to him and both were allowed to leave without any comment.
As soon as they walked outside, Sherlock let the scared/relieved face slip off his face and turn to a scowl.
"Mycroft," Sherlock greeted coldly.
"You're as pleasant as ever. I just saved you from getting arrested and all you can show is contempt."
"You surely did it for your own reasons."
"My brother being in jail would reflect poorly on myself, of course."
"Of course," Sherlock repeated mockingly.
"You've still got a crocodile tear on your face," Mycroft added.
Sherlock hastily wiped at his face. "So is that all?"
"As long as you don't plan to thank me."
"I don't," Sherlock said.
"Then yes, that's all." Mycroft began to walk away, but then Sherlock stepped forward quickly again and took Mycroft's shoulder. He turned around, looking entertained, like he knew Sherlock would have more to say.
"Why did you come to see John today?" Sherlock asked. "You didn't just come to talk to me. You would have known when my classes were. You meant to go see him, obviously. Did you just want him to spy for you?"
"What else would I want from him?"
"I don't know, I'm sure you have a million ulterior motives for everything you do."
"Do you know how refreshing it is to hear you say you don't know something?"
Sherlock grunted irritably. "Goodnight, Mycroft."
"Goodnight, Sherlock. I have a feeling I will see you again soon." Mycroft's tone made Sherlock feel just a twinge of worry. What did Mycroft really want?
But since Sherlock was on his way back to the school, not having to worry about being arrested, John had gotten back into his mind. What had happened in the alley, and also back at the pub. And now he was going to have to talk to John, any moment now. Sherlock wondered whether he wouldn't rather be arrested.
But Sherlock was going to have to go back to John sometime, and wasting any time walking around wouldn't help his situation. Plus, John was probably worried sick about Sherlock. Probably he should have texted him or something, but he found himself too nervous to do so.
Nervous. Sherlock Holmes, nervous. Something really was wrong with him.
So Sherlock walked with his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his long coat, watching as steam rolled up from his mouth every time he breathed out. He considered buying cigarettes, but then thought of what John would say when he smelled like smoke and kept from doing it. Sherlock arrived at the dormitory, sitting in the lobby and staring out the dark window. It was going to snow soon.
He couldn't stall any longer. He had to go up.
Sherlock took a deep, steadying breath and entered the lift to get to him and John's dorm room.
Sorry the part about Sherlock getting interrogated is so short and has very little detail. I figured it wasn't really the point of my story, just an event I had to get through to get to the next important moment.
Thanks for reading and please review (11)!
