Incarceration

Snow fell heavily over London, covering all the roads and the roofs of every building. As the days went by, the snow seemed to be never ending and became thicker and thicker. It became so thick that people started to leave their cars out on the roads as it was impossible to travel further. Trains were delayed, so were buses and no one was able to find any taxi's.

It had been a week since the break out at the station and John was still in hospital. Sherlock was able to call him every day and John came back with the same news: he was recovering. Yet the sound of his voice said otherwise. Neither Sherlock nor June were able to visit him on a regular basis like they wanted to because they couldn't catch any taxi or buses. They both felt incarcerated as they spent their days staying in the apartment. Sherlock hardly spoke, and it worried June as he smothered himself with notes about the Judith Harris case. He often received calls from Greg asking about Timothy. They had to discuss Steven White's next court meeting, seeing as he was the only clique member who wasn't locked up. The meeting was postponed again due to the weather which infuriated Sherlock. Because of this, he punched the wall, followed by grabbing his spare gun and shooting at it. Mrs Hudson was highly unimpressed.

June spent most of her time curled up on the sofa reading through The Point of Pointism. Sherlock knew that she took the book from their bookshelf but remained to stay quiet about it as he let her read it alone.

The absence of Sherlock's voice haunted 221B Baker Street. Once in a while, June would here him muttering "Where's John when you need him?". It wasn't until one evening, while the fire was burning in the fireplace, Sherlock sat on the sofa beside June and watched her. He watched her eyes as they scanned the pages of the book and the way her left hand played with a strand of her hair.

"You like that book then." Sherlock eventually said.

June sighed. "Yeah," As she breathed out heavily. "It's quite different to what I've read before."

"Yeah but it's a load of rubbish. Some con author pretending to know everything about life and being smart by confusing his readers."

June glanced at Sherlock. They stared at each other for a while before June went back to reading the book. Silence had filled the apartment for a long while before Sherlock spoke again.

"I hate this," He grumbled as he leaned back in the sofa. "This feeling so being so incarcerated in your own apartment. It's enough to make any normal person crazy."

June raised her eyebrows. "What about you? Aren't you normal?"

Sherlock wrinkled his nose. "Why would I want to be like you? Normal is boring."

June froze, staring at Sherlock in surprise at his insult but then realised that it was common of Sherlock to be that rude without thinking beforehand. She laughed a little and to her surprise, Sherlock started to laugh quietly too. Before they knew it, they were both laughing aloud, their shoulder shaking, stomach's aching, and broad smiles on their faces.

Everything seemed to brighten up as January rolled into February. The snow died down and every so often, the sun would make an appearance behind the clouds. Life in London buzzed again. Taxis, buses and trains were on the move again. The daily phone calls from John were more positive. John's voice seemed back to normal. He sounded happy and more hopeful as he told them that he was allowed out of the hospital in the next week. Life in 221B Baker Street buzzed too and both June and Sherlock seemed happier. They talked to each other again but this time, there was less tension as they both had begun to relax. They found their friendship growing as they started to understand each other a little more. June started to teach Sherlock how to look after himself properly and ways in which he can overcome his boredom. Sherlock then taught June more about being a consulting detective and how he looks for links in crime scenes. One Saturday afternoon, June took Sherlock to the gym and taught him archery. She demonstrated how to hold the bow and aim, just like her father did when she was a little girl. Sherlock was a quick learner and had got the knack of it pretty quickly. After that, they took a trip to a café just down the road from where June used to work to grab some lunch, although Sherlock only had a mug of coffee. They then spent the evenings sitting on the sofa, reading. June encouraged Sherlock to start reading a broader range of different genre's and June found herself reading and rereading The Point of Pointism over and over again. They both seemed so content it was almost as if they had forgotten about Timothy, Steven and the clique. Everything had fallen into place and that feeling of incarceration they had before seemed to have vanished. Even Mrs Hudson seemed pleased that June had helped Sherlock to relax and become happier.

The week had passed and Sherlock and June took a taxi to St. Bartholomew's to take John home one late afternoon. They both were quiet on the journey there as they watched London pass outside.

John was waiting by the reception desk. Once they entered, he turned and smiled broadly them. Sherlock glanced at his arm which was tied in a sling. He let out a loud breath.

"Okay, Mr Watson," One of the nurses said as she trotted over to him. "Here are you pills."

Sherlock looked at the pot of pills which John took. "He doesn't need them." He said flatly as he rocked back and forth on his heels.

John looked at Sherlock and sighed. "Sherlock, don't start." He muttered.

The nurse ignored Sherlock and smiled at John. "Happy recovering, Mr Watson. Call in if there's anything wrong."

Sherlock watched the nurse depart back to one of the wards before they turned and started to the main entrance.

"You know," John began. "I almost forgot what you were like. Spending a few weeks away from you and being surrounded by people who doesn't judge me was like a breath of fresh air."

"Your shoulder is fine," Sherlock said as they left the hospital. "That sling will only hinder the recovery of your shoulder, you need to move it otherwise it'll become stiff. And those pills will give you bad side effects including diarrhoea, migraines and perhaps a fever. Quite honestly, I think you should thank me, John Watson."

John raised his eyebrows as he tucked the pills into his pocket. Sherlock hailed a taxi and the three of them clambered in.

"So what have you been up to while I've been gone?" John asked.

There was a pause. "Not a lot." Sherlock answered.

The journey seemed to take longer than usual and soon it was nightfall. There was a lot of traffic on the roads and it wasn't long before rain started to fall on the windows. It soon became heavier. June leaned back, rested her head on the side and closed her eyes. It was when she was just about to drift off to sleep that she jumped as her phone vibrated in her jacket pocket. She quickly looked out the window to find that they were still in traffic before she took out her phone.

It was Timothy who was calling her.

June caught her breath in her throat as she looked at Sherlock. His eyes lingered on the caller's ID. His eyes met June's for a second before he took the phone out of her hand and put it against his ear. June started to bite at her fingernails nervously.

"Where are you?" Sherlock's voice was low and solemn. June and John exchanged looks as the voice on the other end of the line was heard, but only as a muffled sound. "Don't give me that, we've been through enough riddles already."

The voice seemed a little high pitched and as Sherlock turned his head to look at June, she knew that her brother was asking after her. Sherlock hesitated for a moment before he removed the phone from his ear and put Timothy on speaker phone.

"June," Timothy's voice rang out. "Is she there?"

"Yeah," June muttered, glaring at Sherlock. "I'm here."

"Well it's nice to hear your voice too."

There was a silence.

"What do you want, Tim?" June asked, breaking the silence.

"Just a little favour," Timothy cleared his throat. "Sherlock there is something you need to know. A little secret that June has kept from you for a long time," He let the words hang in the air for a moment. "Go on, June, tell Sherlock the truth. I'm sure he'll be dying to know everything. And perhaps it would make the riddles seem a little less complicated."

"Stop it," June hissed but when he sniggered and continued to bully her into tell the truth, June started to shake with anger. "Stop it, Tim, just STOP!"

John looked at June with worry before taking the phone out of Sherlock's hand. "Where are you?" He shouted down the phone but Timothy only laughed.

"Go on, June." He said through his laughter.

"Pull over," Sherlock asked the taxi driver but when he didn't do so, Sherlock hollered. "PULL OVER!" The taxi driver did so instantly, pulling the car out of the traffic line and parking in the nearest layby.

John looked at the phone and realised that Timothy had ended the call. "I can track down where he took the call. We can find him from there." John said as he watched Sherlock stand up and walk out the taxi and into the rain, leaving the door wide open. June remained seated in the taxi before following him. The rain was heavier, making both Sherlock and June soaked within seconds. Closing the taxi door behind her, she ran after Sherlock who was standing on the pavement.

"So what is this secret Timothy speaks of," Sherlock said as she reached him. "That was quite a reaction back there, telling him to stop," He looked at her. "Must be something so important that you didn't want to tell me."

June opened her mouth as if to speak but closed it instantly. There were two secrets she had kept from Sherlock, and she knew that Timothy was trying to get June to confess who she really was. But she was still unable to find the words to tell him. Sherlock had lost patience as he grabbed hold of her arms, almost shaking her.

"WHAT IS IT?" He shouted. "I can't be dealing with anymore secrets and lies! If I want to get to the bottom of this case, I need to understand everything."

June almost whimpered in Sherlock's strong grip as she tried to pull away from him. "Timothy wants you dead!" June cried. Sherlock stared at her for a while before slowly releasing his grip. June sniffed. "It's true. My brother told me so and says that he will turn himself to the police once he's killed you!"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and watched June suspiciously. "Why didn't you tell me?"

June swallowed. She looked at Sherlock in the eye, knowing that although she was letting him know what her brother wanted, she was still lying to him. "Because," She started, looking down at her hands. "Because I felt like I needed to protect you from him," She pushed back the hair that was stuck to her wet face. "Sherlock there's no way I'd ever let my brother near you, ever."

"How many times have you met up with your brother behind my back?"

June shook her head. "Hardly ever."

"You're lying to me."

"Just once since the ball. He's my brother, Sherlock. Aren't I allowed to see him?"

"I know he's your brother but he's our serial killer."

"Yes I know he is," June breathed, refusing to argue with Sherlock. "If he could he would maybe break into Baker Street and murder you on the spot there and then. But I know won't."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes but let June continue.

"This is just one big game to him. We wouldn't want to end it so quickly. He would find any obstacles to make the game longer than needs be. He would want to drag it on otherwise the game would end too soon. If he killed you now the game will be over."

"How do I know you're not in on this, June? You seem to know your brother very well."

June paused, her mouth open agape in shock with Sherlock's comment. "You think I'm part of this?" She chocked on her own words. "Sherlock, I'm trying to save your life!" She shouted. "I'm trying to keep you from my brother," Sherlock's eyes glared into June's. "If I never left the café he probably would've got you by now. But do you know what made me run with you in the first place? Why I stuck by your side for so long?" June took a step forward. "Because I," She hesitated for a moment. "Because I love you, Sherlock!"

There was tension between them as Sherlock looked taken aback.

"God," June groaned in frustration. "I know that that was your first deduction over me but I thought that I should at least tell you myself. I love you, Sherlock Holmes, and I'm not going to apologise. It would be an honour to spend the rest of my life with you. It really would," She took a couple of steps back. "If you can't bring yourself to deal with that then perhaps you really should start to learn what it's like to be human."

Sherlock's frown deepened. "What do you mean?" He demanded.

June shook her head. "I can't take this anymore. I actually believed that you had a heart but I couldn't have been so wrong. I almost wish I never got involved with this. Just leave me alone!"

She turned and started to run away before Sherlock could say anything in return. He remained on the spot with his hands in his coat pockets. The rain continued to fall heavily on his face and his drenched curly hair stuck to his face. John, who had heard their shouts, watched Sherlock for a moment before he guiltily looked away and shifted in the seat.

June ran through the streets of London, splashing through puddles and squeezing past cars in the traffic jams. Soon she reached the gym, and passing the busy reception, she headed straight downstairs to the archery hall which again was empty.

Her footsteps echoed and bounced off the walls as she marched across the hall, ripping the bow off the wall and marching towards the targets. Knowing that her leather jacket would be stiff from the rain, she pulled it off and dropped it to the floor. She then placed an arrow in position on the bow, aimed and shot all in speed. Every move was in a rush as she took out her anger on shooting the arrows at the target. She hit bulls-eye every time but sometimes she aimed at one of the outer rings. She let out a cry when she released her last bow before dropping to her knees and burying her face in her hands and she cried aloud.

I could have had a better childhood. I could have had a better childhood. I could have had a better childhood.

She remembered all those months ago when she first met Steven White there at the gym when he had snuck up on her while she was shooting. She wished that day never happened and started to wonder where she would be if she never met Sherlock Holmes.

She was they lying down on the cold floor, hugging her knees to her chest, wishing that she would disappear. She shivered in her ball position, feeling incarcerated again.

For a moment, she suddenly felt guilty for everything. She had fooled Sherlock into believing that she's June Lawrence. Even her brother and John backed her up by keeping the secret. She knew that Sherlock couldn't make a deduction over her like he could with John or anyone else because she wasn't who she's supposed to be.

Sherlock couldn't be left alone. Not even John could risk leaving Sherlock alone knowing that her brother was out to kill him.

After what felt like forever, June pushed herself from the floor, picked up her jacket and left the gym and headed back to Baker Street.

The rain had died down a little once she reached 221B, but she was still soaked to the core. Taking the door key out of her jeans pocket, she unlocked the door and slipped inside. The apartment seemed quiet, so she tiptoed up the stairs carefully. There was a glow coming from the sitting room and the sound of fire crackling to indicate that someone was still awake. Breathing in, she pushed open the door and it swung open slowly with a creak. Sherlock was sat in his arm chair, The Point of Pointism was sitting open in his lap yet he wasn't reading it. He had his hands pressed together by his lips like they usually were in his 'thinking' position. He watched June was she hovered in the doorway as if he was waiting for her to return.

"Don't ever leave me."

Sherlock removed his hands from his mouth. "I won't," He replied. "I promise."