Smoochynose's prompt: Mycroft's visit confuses John
Oh, and to W33:
Thank you so much! I'm happy to hear it(:
Your wish is my command; John and Molly shall meet!
And yes, I think that they'd be wonderful like that! I'd love to read that story.
Nearly a month had gone by, and John and Sherlock still hadn't spoken about their respective nighttime terrors. They were spending nearly every moment of every day together, though, even the time Sherlock spent in the ring*. John would stand by the gate and rest his head on the top rung, seemingly content to watch Sherlock gallop or, if Jim was getting bored, jump over the low cross rails* set up. When he was done, Sherlock would trot over to the gate and wait a few paces back while John fiddled with the gate before knocking it open. (The first time he'd done it, everyone had been in the ring discussing Sherlock's last race. They'd heard the creak of wood and turned to see John standing in the open gateway, the picture of innocence. They hadn't bothered to shoo him out, so the next day he'd done it again, this time looking at the people with his head cocked to the side. Stan had nearly fallen over he was laughing so hard, and a rare smile graced Sebastian's dour face. With an amused snort, Sherlock had trotted over to the grey and followed him from the ring to the stable. Despite the people's initial worry that Sherlock would run away, both horses were standing in the stable waiting for them. John had minded his manners after that and waited until Jim let Sherlock walk over before opening the gate and trotting to the stable where Sebastian was waiting to brush and untack Sherlock.)
Their routine was interrupted one day when one of the mares, a bay quarter horse named Sally, trotted up to John, ignoring Sherlock as usual, and said excitedly,
"Have you heard the news, John? Mycroft's going to be here in an hour!"
John had not heard the news; nor did he know who Mycroft was. Judging by the unhappy look on Sherlock's face, it was probably someone he was glad not to know.
"You don't know Mycroft?" came an indignant snort- undoubtedly Anderson, the stable "mule", dubbed so because of his stubborn personality. "He's the freak's older, more successful, brother- not to mention the fastest horse in England!"
'That would explain it,' thought John. 'If there's one thing Sherlock doesn't talk about, it's himself.'
"Ah, no," he said instead. "There wasn't much time to listen to English racing back in New York, what with patrolling and watching over the city and-"
John was cut off by a sudden bump just against his rump. He turned his head to give Sherlock the evil eye (You don't live in New York without picking up certain habits) but instead of Sherlock's face, he was greeted by one that belonged to a horse he'd never met before. He gave the stranger a quick once-over, taking in the slight resemblance to Sherlock: obviously a thoroughbred- the same line, too, if John were correct- the same knowing air, a quirked eyebrow and pricked ears that broadcast his curiosity. The stallion (John didn't need to check between the newcomer's legs to know he was male) wasn't nearly as dark as Sherlock was, though; his coat was a brindled dark bay* with a single white coronet* on his front right hoof. His eyes were more blue than Sherlock's, but there was definitely a resemblance.
"You must be Mycroft, then?" he asked.
A tiny smile, almost a smirk, twisted the horse's lips.
"Oh, you already know me. Wonderful! You must be John." Slightly put off by the strained tone of cordiality, John nodded slowly. "Well, we'd best be off, then. I'll see you later, Sherlock." With that, Mycroft began to bodily shove John forward- pointedly moving him away from Sherlock, not that he was able to do it for long. Tall though he may have been, nineteen hands* at least, Mycroft didn't have the strength in his body to force John to move, so once John recovered from his surprise at being pushed, he dug in his heels.
Not one to fight a losing battle, Mycroft immediately backed off; he had managed to get John out of Sherlock's hearing range, anyway.
"I wish I could take more time with this, John, but unfortunately, my brother is undoubtedly using this time to hide himself from me, overgrown child that he is, so I'll be brief." The tall horse drew in a breath but rushed on when he noticed John drawing himself up. "I'm sure that this will be difficult for you to believe, particularly if Sherlock has ever mentioned me- though I strongly doubt that he has- but I do genuinely care for him. I don't know what your intentions are regarding Sherlock, but so far you've proved yourself to be good for him. If, however, you are pretending or do anything to harm him," Mycroft's voice dropped as he spoke, becoming soft and menacing, his oddly colored eyes looking at John in a similar way a judge looks at a guilty man, "I will not hesitate to rid this place of you. I will erase your very existence from the earth; it will be as though neither you, nor anyone related to you ever existed. But you will continue to exist, John Watson. You will be quite alive." He then heaved a sigh. "That's all, then. Do return to your stall; perhaps Sherlock will come out of hiding if you're there."
With that, Mycroft whirled around and began to walk away, leaving behind one completely baffled John Watson.
*Riding Ring: where a person or people exercise a horses/horses; can be indoor or outdoor- at this point, since it's warm, Sherlock's in an outdoor ring
Outdoor (mostly for warm weather)- http:/ / www. kilkellyfarm. com/ Kilkelly%20Riding%20Ring. jpg (The Morans' isn't on a hill)
Indoor (mostly used in cold weather)- http:/ / www. cogifarm. com/ images/ Equestrian/ hunter-jumper-indoor-1-lg. jpg
*Cross Rails: jumps for equestrians with two poles that cross to make an "x" shape-
http:/ / www. cantewindsfarm. com/ CrossRails1. jpg (And look! I even found one with a male rider. I'm so proud, aha)
*Brindle: an extremely rare coloring, possibly from a genetic defect, causing slight striations in coloring
http:/ / upload. wikimedia. org/ wikipedia/ commons/ thumb/ a/ a2/ BrindleNatal. jpg/ 220px-BrindleNatal. jpg
*Coronet: the shortest white (or black) marking on a horse's leg
Leg Markings- http:/ / www. equines4us. com/ Members/ 2312/ A20106414720. jpg
^from left to right: coronet, pastern, sock, stocking
Even though he hasn't appeared yet, here's Lestrade-
http:/ / . blogspot. com/ _q0y3aFaaLas/ SPjOw_1948I/ AAAAAAAADcU/ 4vDE72Yol5A/ s400/ magic+alone. jpg
.
.
.
No, um, here's the real picture of him. (I couldn't resist claiming it was the other one.) Oh, and breed wise, he's a French Saddlebred.
http:/ / download. agefotostock. com/f otos/ bajaage/ cached/ 2838/ BSI-2115907. jpg