A/N Hey all! Do you need help on your highschool/college math? Do you like kittens? Then you'll love my sister's blog! (Hooray for shameless plugs...) it's calcandkittens dot wordpress dot com
(just replace the dots with actually dots...)
And as always, thank you so much JohnLockSher! I'm hoping for the best for you, my dear friend!
~Jules
John couldn't believe that this was finally happening.
Sure, he'd been dreaming of it for months, since Mycroft ruined his life, but for it to actually happen?
It's rather poetic, this whole situation. They're where it all began, the warehouse where Mycroft originally kidnapped him, many many moons ago. John didn't like him then, and he certainly doesn't like the politician now.
You're finally going to do it.
Yes, John knows. After much deliberation and many arguments from the voice in his head, John was going to go through with it.
Without a tremor from his hand, Captain Watson holds his beloved browning out, barrel pointed directly at Mr Holmes.
His breathing is calm, good for a soldier, even better for a murderer. Mycroft, seemingly aware of his fate simply stands there, leaning on his umbrella like the prick he is.
Don't wait up, get it done already!
If there's one thing the doctor has learned those past few months it's that the voice in his head is not patient.
Come on now, pull the trigger.
"He'll forgive you, eventually," Mycroft suddenly says out of the blue.
"Uh, sorry?" John asks leisurely as if he wasn't pointing a gun at the most powerful man in England.
"My brother. He'll understand why," With a sigh Mycroft adjusts the way he's leaning against his umbrella and continues, "You have that effect on him. Unfortunately it seems that I will never know how, but you somehow made the man show emotions."
Stop having this silly little conversation and do what you came here for.
Waiting a few moments in case the government official wasn't done John asks, "Are you done now?"
"I do suppose so."
Good.
"Want to say any dignified last words?"
Kill. Him.
Smiling a bit the older man says, "My true last words and wishes are in my will. At the moment I'm just waiting for the end."
See? Even he's ready for it.
Gun still trained on the politician, John says, "You deserve this." And then pulls the trigger, effortlessly ending a man's life.
With grim satisfaction John watches Mycroft Holmes' body collapse onto the floor, umbrella clattering not far behind.
I knew I could make you do it.
And then John wakes up.
oOoOo Yesterday oOoOo
When the detective and blogger reach the morgue Molly is out (on yet another soon to be failed date) so they head back home. It takes a bit of convincing because Sherlock was set on breaking into the morgue and looking at the corpses themselves, but eventually they get back out to the kerb. Much to the relief of John, the cabbie that picks them up is silent the entire ride.
John sends a quick text to Lestrade in case he needs to reach them: Molly wasn't there so we're going back to Baker Street
When they arrive back at the flat Sherlock goes to sulk and throws a couple of knives into the wall, so, nothing new. John goes up stairs and cuts a bit, and then does the shopping, effectively ignoring the question of why he punched a mirror.
Then when Mrs Hudson comes home they talk for awhile. Around 20.00 Sherlock leaves and then comes back twenty minutes later covered in filth, because it was "For the case, John!". How getting dirty can help a case revolving around the Thames and drowning, John will never know.
After that incident John goes up to his room with the laptop and attempts to surf the internet, blogs a bit, making sure that everyone knows that a) he's not dead, and b) he's NOT MARRIED- really anything so he won't sleep.
But he does eventually sleep, and he has a wonderful dream where he kills Mycroft.
Now he's awake panting, and staring blankly at the wall. He glances to the clock: 1.24. Then in an instant he's up, dressed, outside and calling for a cab.
A cab eventually pulls up, taking longer than usual, so John assumes that it's not one of Mycroft's.
"Where to, mate?"
John thinks about it for a second, he could go to Harry's but it's a ghastly hour and he really isn't on good terms with his sister. He can't go to Mike's, he's out of the country. So the doctor settles on Lestrade's place.
After giving the address to the DI's flat, John spends the rest of the cab ride trying not to think about killing his best friend's brother. And also, now the voice in his head is appearing in his dreams? What the hell?
You can't get rid of me.
John immediately stills, as if that will help. He stares out the window and tries to void his head of any thoughts. It takes far too long to get to Lestrade's, but the instant he sees it John throws some pounds at the cabbie then jumps out before the car has even stopped all of the way.
He walks up to the door, but then stands there, finally realizing how this is probably not the best idea. Standing there for a few more long seconds John brings up his hand and knocks on the door.
A minute later Lestrade opens the door, and quickly ushers John in.
"I… Uh," John tries to formulate a response to the silent question of 'Why are you here?', but he doesn't really know. "Hi, Greg."
Pushing him down into his sofa Lestrade smiles softly at him and says, "Hi, John."
"I-"
Lestrade holds up a hand and says, "Not right now. First- tea. It makes everything better. At least that's what my mum always said." John nods and eventually sits down all of the way and leans against the back of the sofa.
Soon enough a cup of tea is thrust into his hands and John mutely holds it while Lestrade comes to sit down next to him. They sit and sip their tea in silence until Lestrade sets his down and says, "For now, let's just look at that hand. Then we'll talk."
John nods and holds his still bandaged hand out for the DI to inspect it. Silently Lestrade unwraps it and turns his hand over to look at the damage. It still isn't pretty, but it isn't infected, so John's got that going for him.
And then surprising the both of the John quietly says, "I killed Mycroft."
Lestrade almost drops John's hand and stares at the doctor. "Wh-. H-"
"Not really," John corrects, knowing that confessing to a murder that hasn't happened (yet) in front of a Detective Inspector is not the best idea. "Dreaming. I killed him while I was dreaming. In my dream. He died in my dream. He's still alive. In real life that is. He's still alive in real life, but not in my dream." Christ, is this how Molly always feels?
Lestrade takes John's cup from his hands and says, "Okay, try to calm down first. I understand that you didn't actually kill the man, but this still has a lot of explaining that needs to happen."
The two of them sit on the sofa in silence for a few minutes before John talks again. "I'm justreallyangryathim."
"What?"
With a deep breath John tries again, "I'm just really angry with him. At least I was, when that whole thing went on."
Lestrade nods, knowing exactly what 'that whole thing' was.
"I thought I wasn't angry at him anymore. Apparently I am."
"John," Lestrade starts, "That's your subconscious, not you. It's understandable to still be mad, but your mind just stretched it. And that's okay."
With a humourless chuckle John says, "No, no, that is not 'okay'. This is far from 'okay'. People who are okay don't dream about murdering their best friend's brother!" Humiliated, John buries his head in his hands.
"If Mycroft Holmes was standing right in front of you, at this very moment, would you kill him?"
The question catches the doctor off guard, "God no! Of course not!"
Really? I thought you were better than that.
"See what I'm saying? I know that you don't really want Mycroft dead, and hell, everyone else knows that too. Except you," John frowns, unsure of where this is going. "You have have convinced yourself that you're out for blood. But you really aren't. Just take a step back and remember that you are a rational person."
Eh. Not so much anymore.
After a few moments John nods, and relief courses through Lestrade's body.
"Christ Greg, it's just… I wish I could go back to the way things were before." The last bit of the sentence is left unsaid, but Lestrade understands. 'Before John was kidnapped'.
The DI pats a hand on John's good knee and says, "I know mate, me too."
The two spend the next few minutes in silence, each one lost in their own thoughts until John stands up and says something about having to go back before Sherlock deduces anything. Though, knowing him he already has.
John politely declines Lestrade's offer for a ride until the DI insists. The two men ride in silence back to Baker Street, and give each other quick goodbyes.
The doctor then climbs the seventeen steps and spends the rest of the night in misplaced fear.
….
John must've dozed off, because he suddenly wakes from the lovely sound of Sherlock pounding up the stairs.
"John! John! Come quick now, a sixth victim was found!" He bursts into John's room, the only thing on his mind being that the game is on, and not his flatmate's privacy.
Thank God John was wearing a shirt. "Jesus, Sherlock! I was sleeping!" He rubs his eyes a bit before continuing,"What's going on?" He had to admit he was a bit intrigued.
Scoffing, Sherlock says, "Another victim was found, do keep up. And it's your fault that you're tired due to the midnight run you took."
"How'd you know I went out last night?'
"I did not know, I simply observed," Sherlock angrily mutters, before turning to go back to the kitchen. "Hurry now, while the body is still fresh!"
Grumbling something incoherent, John slams his door after Sherlock leaves and pulls on a jumper and some trousers, as well as redressing his hand, even though it's not really necessary anymore. He also glances at his clock - 8.13 - which means he actually got a decent amount of sleep after his nightmare and freak out at Lestrade's.
A few minutes later, when John makes it down the stairs Sherlock is already dragging him out, so no breakfast or tea for him. By now John would've thought that he'd be used to this. But no, how he's not.
In the cab ride over Sherlock jabbers on about drownings, and how water stays in lungs, or something along those lines. The doctor part of John wants to contribute to the conversation, but at the moment he's just working on not falling asleep in the cab. He feels unnaturally tired in this situation. Oh Christ. Greg drugged the tea didn't he. Dammit.
When they get to the scene Sherlock practically runs up, lifting up the police tape, ducking under it and not holding it for John. He then walks straight past the body, and inspects the soil a couple feet away. Sherlock has his ways.
Feeling a bit useless after paying the cabbie, John stands and watches the 'sociopath' until Lestrade comes up to him and puts a hand on his good shoulder.
"Doing alright now?"
"Hmm? Oh yeah. Just fine," Then with a chuckle the doctor adds, "Being mercilessly woken up for crime scenes. Just like normal."
Lestrade smiles a bit too but still says, "Really though, you sure you're okay for being here?"
"Yeah. A bit hungry, but otherwise just fine." John then fiddles with his thumbs, giving himself a distraction from his mind.
Trying to ignore me now, John? I thought we went over this!
After a second John adds, "You drugged my tea didn't you?"
"Uh, you needed to sleep," He awkwardly covers. "If anything else happens you can always come to me, okay John?" John mentally frowns at the amount of times Lestrade keeps bringing up his name.
The ex soldier opens his mouth to respond, but is then saved by his flatmate.
"John! Inspect this body. No, go away Anderson, your team is useless. Better yet just leave all together. From this Earth." Sherlock says, earning a "Sherlock!", a glare, and a "Psychopath" from Donovan.
Pulling on some latex gloves John crouches down and begins his posthumous diagnosis.
Still going to humour your detective friend? You know your opinions don't really matter, right?"
Clearing his throat John says, "Er, let's see. Cause of death is drowning, not hypothermia, but he wasn't far away from that either. He also vomited while in the water, you can tell from his lips… Poison maybe? He's body might've been trying to expel the contents of the stomach."
It's silly how our bodies try everything to survive, even when the efforts are all in vain. Don't you agree?
Great, now his mind keeps asking him questions.
"Brilliant. Wonderful job, John."
Unsure of how to react to the sudden praise John doesn't say anything, and disposes his gloves.
"Come now, to the morgue! I believe I know who our killer is!"
After Donovan mutters "He's like a dog" and John tries to ignore it, the duo gets in a cab and heads to Bart's.
They sit in utter silence until Sherlock sudden announces, "Text Molly we'll be there in ten."
"But we're five minutes away." John states, not reaching for his phone.
"Traffic John, Traffic." The detective grins at his flatmate, and then continues to look out of the window.
Unable to compress a smile John grins back at his flatmate and pulls out his mobile to text Molly.
A few minutes later, John smiles again. Something about being stuck in traffic with an all-of-a-sudden-sulking flatmate makes it feel like everything is almost back to normal.
You'll never be normal again.
Almost.
By the time they get to Bart's Sherlock is out of the cab before it pulls up to the kerb, leaving the older man to pay the fees, as per usual. When John turns around, Sherlock has already begun the short trek to the morgue, with John in his tracks.
A few deductions were to be heard as the detective inspects each cadaver, admiring the killer's handiwork.
"Of course!" The detective exclaims, practically knocking the body off the slab. "John! Text Lestrade that I know who the killer is!"
Arms crossed John muses, "Why can't you text him?"
Ignoring the question Sherlock arrogantly says, "Quickly now! Perfect, it all goes together now! Wonderful Molly, just wonderful! I could kiss you!" Sherlock carelessly leaves the bodies exposed and ignores Molly's stutters.
"What? Oh- you… Wait, er… Sherlock?" The mortician tries to hide her flushed cheeks but can't seem to do so, so she busies herself with her work. She hears a "Ta, Molly," from John, and when she turns around again the duo is gone.
"Stupid, Molly!" She murmurs to herself, before going about covering the corpses.
….
During the cab ride John asks, "Hey Sherlock, why haven't you questioned me about the mirror?"
"Oh that? I deduced why you punched it."
Breathing accelerated, John hastily asks, "Why did I do it then?"
"Simple. You were frustrated. Don't bore me with this, John. You should know why you punched it anyway." And with that Sherlock ignores his flatmate for the rest of the ride.
When the two flatmates get home Sherlock stops dead in his tracks before reaching up to open the door, causing his flatmate to almost run straight into him.
"Sherlock?" John questions, his body on full alert. "Everything alright?"
Quietly, as if someone could hear them, the detective responds, "Someone's been here."
A/N Did I scare you in the beginning? Muahahaha
Like the chapter (like the cliffy?) Then you should totally make my day and review, even if it's just two words! Everything is appreciated!