Four Thursdays John Would Never Forget

Chp 25

Not edited and my head feels like exploding! How is it that I manage to catch every cold my little sister brings home? How? Four year olds are walking germ factories I tell you.

There was once a time that if you asked Sherlock Holmes if it was possible for the world to stop spinning, for all of time and space to come to a complete and utter stand still, he would have either told you flat out that you were crazy or assumed you were in need of a particular orange blanket. However on a rather rainy day in France Sherlock answered what was probably his brother's thirty first attempt to contact him with his usual air of annoying petulance. It was a Friday as he recalled and it had been five months since he'd had his heart broken, since he knew what a major mistake he had made and he realized that he was going to be numb to the rest of the world as he had once been before John's arrival. What he didn't know was that the phone call he was about to take on that rainy Friday would most definitely evoke deep emotions, emotions he had thought were long gone, emotions so deep in fact that they would stop the world from spinning and bring all of time and space to a stand still.

His worst nightmare had come true, John had been shot, and the worst part was it was his fault. He left to give John a new life, one free of Sherlock, didn't offer him the same protection as he received. Now John had been tracked down by Moran, who somehow had managed to convince Mycroft's entire department that he had committed suicide almost a year ago. Mycroft said that his men had just missed Moran after some late night searching through the Afghani desert. John was at an army hospital and had received a bullet wound to the shoulder that had almost caused him to bleed out during the fight. He was lucky enough that Bill had been there to save him (along with several others) and he got a leg wound in the process. At least someone was able to keep their promises.

Mycroft told him how lucky John was to have walked away with that. How Moran was the greatest marksman in Britain, that John should be dead. Obviously Sherlock took the news poorly. So poorly in fact the new flat he was staying in took a rather brutal beating after he abruptly hung up the phone. It was just such a hateful thing to consider what had happened over the course of a year and a half. It was hateful to think that he had caused all of this, all because of what that stupid woman had said. Mary. Mary who had taken advantage of John's weakened state to work her way into bed with him (or in this case sofa). Mycroft managed to tell him a month later that the two of them had been seen leaving a near by pub and that John appeared quite inebriated. So John hadn't been in his right mind. More to the point, when he visited Mycroft and was confronted with the letters he confessed his ever lasting love for the suicidal detective.

Sherlock may have returned as soon as he had heard word of that if it weren't for two very important set backs. One: he had ignored his brother long enough that by the time the news reached him John had already returned to Afghanistan. To return then would be blasphemous, he couldn't have John be the last one to know, not when all of this was to do with John. Two: guilt. He had never felt much guilt before he met John, but ever since it was as though it consumed him. Doing ordinary experiments that got on the blonde's nerves had made him feel guilty, which he found completely absurd. This was a whole new level of guilt though, and it made facing the man a terrifying prospect.

What if John couldn't forgive him? The thought seemed a definite possibility in his mind. What he'd done had put John through hell, emotional and physical. There was no way that he could ever apologize enough, there would be no explanation good enough. John had been shot because of this, he'd had his entire life turned upside down, all because Sherlock had some moment of self doubt. Because he didn't think John could be happy with him. It was clear the soldier had set out to prove him wrong. So then it had all been for nothing, every pitiful sigh and evening spent in heart break was wasted. He cried bitterly at the thought and wondered how much blame he could lay on Mary. It was doubtful John would ever accept that was a proper excuse, but t might alleviate some of the guilt he felt.

After he finished ransacking his flat he managed to contact his brother once again. Which was surprisingly easy given their limited contact in order to maintain his assumed identity. Mycroft was quick to scold him on his manners and remind him just who was organizing the soldier's medical care once he was retrieved from the army base. Sherlock was silent for a moment as he considered everything he had come to realize in the past months and even in just the past hour and decided that it was necessary to ask just a few more favors of his brother.

"I am aware that you are seeing to John's medical care, I hope that you see to it that Bill is also looked after with just as much enthusiasm. We do owe him for saving John's life, if must have taken some particularly quick thinking considering how good of a shot Moran is."

Sherlock paused a moment as a cold shiver ran through his body. He once again noted just how close of a call it had been.

"I have to ask another favor of you though, a rather large one in fact. I need you to let me see those men who aided in Moran's attack, the ones who were taken hostage. Don't pretend there weren't any prisoners taken too, it was obvious from your tone. If anyone is going after Moran now, it's me. I will not allow him to make a second attempt."

Sherlock explained darkly as considered just what things he would like to do to the man who had tried to kill John.

"I will allow it; you're most likely the best man for the job; however I couldn't possibly explain this to mummy unless you promised me something in return."

Mycroft said in his silky voice that used to serve him so well in their childhood and had likely done so in his adult life as well.

"What is it? I suppose I do owe you some favor in return. Do you have some wretchedly boring case for me out in the middle of no where?"

Sherlock questioned sardonically with a snort. There was a brief pause in which neither man spoke before Mycroft cleared his throat.

"You must return to him once you are done. I could have it no other way; I will not have him weighing on my conscience."

Mycroft said plainly and Sherlock was honestly surprised. It was unlike his brother to be so affected by another's feelings. An odd sense of pride swelled up inside himself as he thought of John, the one man who could melt even the coldest of hearts.

"Of course brother, I wouldn't have it any other way."