Oh oh oh. You guys are to good to me. :) So many views and followers, I want to thank all of you! I would love to hear a review or two about what you what to see in the story as well! Communication is key. :)
Warnings: NONE! Woah, wait, how did that happen? Hmmm...I must be saving up all the warnings for the next few chapters...there's about to be a big emotional fall out...
Mycroft pulled his lips into a slightly gentle smile, its pinched edges and his dark eyes deceiving its faux geniality. John might not be able to tell the difference between a hundred types of tobacco ash or notice the state of a marriage by the wedding ring, but he almost made an art of discerning the moods and expressions of the Holmes brothers.
And for that he was proud.
'Not that it matters.' John heaved a sigh as he watched Tori nervously tip the tea kettle and fill the two lone cups on the table. 'I could read them like books but that doesn't mean I can change the way they decide it all ends. I just have to ride the adventure and hope…' the idea faded a bit bitterly as Mycroft shifted stiffly in Sherlock's chair, the leather squeaking beneath his soft weight as he dutifully picked up his saucer and cup, (the good china Mrs. Hudson had given John and Sherlock when they first moved in as a flat warming gift), and retrained his smile at John.
"Well Doctor, you have quite the little gathering. It seems my brother may have rubbed off on you when it comes to taking in needy things." And even though Mycroft sat in Sherlock's chair with his back straight, legs crossed poshly at the knee and face a blank, somewhat drawn in expression, John knew he was speaking fondly on the children that were huddled on the couch, each of them eyeing the man, the entire British government, with highly different expressions. Darcy appeared utterly indifferent, if not a bit tense with Mycroft's presence, making a habit of picking at the chipping nail polish on her fingers as Thomas scrutinized every slight shift the man in the suit made. Tori was still flitting about the small living space, trying to keep everyone's tea cups piping hot and topped off, crumpets on the plates, and trying to stop the twins from throwing them like grenades every time Mycroft dipped his head in that slightly derogative, but wholly disarming, eye brow raise.
All the while, the elder Holmes just sipped his tea undisturbed by the extra attention, eyes never leaving John, and re-crossed his legs as he leaned back a bit more comfortably. The twins squirmed in their seats and Thomas leaned forward with his elbow on his knees, ready to pounce.
John almost chuckled into his steaming cup and eyed the army of children with a disapproving, half smile. 'I wonder if Sherlock trained them to attack on cue.'
"I was hoping that we'd be able to speak about these matters somewhere…." Mycroft paused and finally gave a glance to the couch, "A little more private." John gave another sigh, this one a bit more winded as the weight of the situation began to comb his nerves the wrong way and he finally motioned to his brood with his open hand.
"Up you monsters go, I have grown up things to talk about." He stood up and waved his hands toward the door as if the children would simply be swept out without a fight.
But these were partially Sherlock raised children.
They'd defy God trying to have the last word.
Darcy locked eyes with John and set her hands like stone on her hips, popping one out in a typical teenage girl fashion, not moving as he accepted her challenge. "Tori and I are adults; we should be able to stay." But Tori was already collecting the twins in her arms and whispering in Thomas' ear, her eyes catching John and Darcy's little standoff as she tried to balance George on her hip, Oliver reaching for Thomas and fussing.
John shook his head, squaring his shoulders military like as he answered. "No Darcy, this is something completely different, I need to talk to Mycroft alone."
"Like hell am I going to let you alone with the likes of him! He'll kidnap you again!" She accused, jabbing a finger at the man in question. But Mycroft didn't so much as flinch, just smiled like a smarmy ponce.
Thomas noticed Darcy was about to go into defiance mode, a phase she wasn't easily shaken from if she reached her full potential, and averted her attention by sweeping up a crying Oliver and handing him effortlessly to her. "Darcy, leave it, I know John can handle the British Government. He once stormed Afghanistan, remember?" He coaxed as he passed them, tossing a knowing sneer at John as he pulled at her hand and finally began to drag her toward the stair case, her echoed answer of "That wasn't just him!" echoing up before the door shut with a heavy wooden sound, and again Baker Street was flooded as silence tried to fill the void.
John couldn't quite keep the smile from lining his face as he sat back down and regarded Mycroft, attention completely on him as the serious tone of their conversation began to seep into the cracks the children had left.
With a thoughtless gesture to the door John broke Mycroft's quite musing. "They really grow on you after a while." He tried to explain fondly as Mycroft nodded in sarcasm.
"Yes, well, then it comes to bare that you will have to take them when I relocate you." The elder Holmes occupied himself with inspecting his pocket watch as John choked on his sip of tea, the soldier's eyes growing a bit panicked as he set his cup down completely and drew forward his chair.
"Wait, what do you mean relocate? Like, leave Baker Street?" He couldn't bare the solemn way in which Mycroft nodded in answer, nor was he comforted by the sudden indifference the man was showing as he talked about uprooting John and his makeshift peace.
"Mrs. Hudson will be sent to the country to live with her sister and you and your gaggle will be put under the strictest security. It seems our Coronal has been watching you for quite some time and we have an idea that he is waiting for orders to strike any moment. No doubt that your little lunch with him was a failed first attempt. We have to be careful from now on."
John watched as Mycroft's mouth formed the words and his eyes read them but his mind couldn't quite stomach the first thought. 'Leave Baker Street? For good? For how long? Until when? What do I do next?' It was just now that John was feeling eternity pull and nag at him like a cutting winter's wind.
Since Sherlock's death, he had been stumbling through the steps of recovering, keeping a sort of schedule, the void eating at him. Nightmares, panic attacks, just like after the war. But then there were the Irregulars, in just a few days the children gave him the acceptance, the channel in which to pour all of his desires for taking care of something that needed him, to be useful again.
'And now what? Pick up and run from a criminal all my life? Never leave the safe guarded house Mycroft picked out?'
John began to feel ensnared, began to feel the roiling sickness blacken and churn in his stomach as he pressed his palms to his eyes and leaned forward. He felt a hand on his shoulder but he brushed the frigid comfort off as he spoke, interrupting Mycroft's piss poor attempt at security.
"I don't want to leave." He stated as strongly as he could, voice wavering a bit as he shook his head and tried to recount his breathing techniques. The room was spiraling, his vision fuzzy at the edges as if he was about to slip into a nightmare. "I don't-"
"What? Don't want to stay alive? Want to follow my brother to the grave at the threat of a gunman? Please John; there is only enough room for one martyr in this family." And the bite in Mycroft's tone hauled John out of his oncoming attack and forced him to look the man in the eye. He was standing over John's curled form with that condescending skirmish expression wincing on his face; almost as if he wanted to shake his head at the childishness of it all, but was afraid he might shake the stern façade off his features.
They simply looked at one another, and John wondered what Mycroft read in his inspection. And then it hit him.
Mycroft had just called him family.
"Sherlock might have left you, but at least let it be in my care for a little bit. At least until I tag this dangerous man." Mycroft swallowed dryly, taping his silver tipped umbrella as he walked past John, letting the man's head fall back into his hands, defeated. "There will be a car to pick you up in the next hour. Please have your litter of pups ready as well." He commented snidely, but John didn't seem to notice, only breathing in deeply and holding it for a good long while, before letting it all out in a half shuddering groan.
"Can I at least know where I'll be staying?" He asked softly, raising his head and turning to look back at Mycroft, who had drew up an eye brow at him in the universal 'You don't already know?,' Holmes' look.
"Why my dear Doctor, at Holmes Manor of course."
Woah, wait, Mycroft! How can John go to the manor when Sherlock is staying there and Irene seems to have keys to the place?
...Almost like you're planning something...
Hey there fans! I know you all must be on the edges of your seats for the Sherlock/John reunion. :) No worries, its next.
But I want to know what you guys want the reaction to be. Should it be sad, dangerous, angry? What do you want John to do? Hit him? Kiss him? A good rough shag? Not speak to him?
Come on! I want to write just what ya'll want to see. So comment and leave you're vote!
You're loyal and avid writer,
Castion-and-Clockwork
