The rest of the day passed without incident and without Sherlock showing any interest in exploring John's legs. The next morning was Friday and John woke to an email from Sarah. He would be leaving late that evening to fly to Dublin for the seminar that started early the following day. As he read the email, he realized that he had completely forgotten to mention he was leaving to Sherlock. He worried that if he mentioned it now, Sherlock would worry he was only leaving due to him being freaked out by John's erection. While a major reason he was leaving for the weekend is so that he could think without Sherlock nearby it had nothing to do with that incident and he refused to let Sherlock think it did. With that in mind, he decided to use Sherlock's tendency to delete what he thought was useless information against him.
He closed his laptop and then went up the stairs to pack a small bag of clothing to take with him. He brought it down leaving it in clear sight of Sherlock who was sitting in his chair with John's laptop now on his lap. He saw the confusion in Sherlock's eyes as he went to the bathroom to retrieve his toothbrush, shampoo, and shaving kit. He returned to the living room and added those to his bag. Sherlock glanced up at him the confusion still there as he studied John. His eyes roamed John's body quickly taking in everything but no deductions came forth.
"Don't tell me you forgot that I am going to Dublin this weekend for a seminar," John sighed. Sherlock's eyes returned to his face and he kept it as blank as possible to try to keep Sherlock from seeing the lie. Sherlock looked away a moment later returning his eyes to John's laptop.
"I can't be expected to remember everything you drone on about. I do have to filter some things," Sherlock informed him. Despite staring at the screen he was desperately searching his mind palace for the information on the seminar, positive that he wouldn't erase such a thing. John flopped down in his chair.
"Sarah just sent me the final details," John started.
"You leave tonight and return late Sunday afternoon," Sherlock finished for him. John reached forward closing his laptop and pulling it from Sherlock's hands.
"What have I told you about staying off my laptop?" John asked him.
"Mine was too far away," Sherlock responded.
"It's on the coffee table," John replied. Sherlock looked over to see it sitting where John indicated. He reached out a hand towards it as if trying to will it to him without getting up. John rolled his eyes as he tucked his own laptop behind himself. "You actually have to walk over to the couch if you want to get it." Sherlock let his hand drop sighing loudly. "I'm not getting it and you are not going to use mine."
"But you're not even using it," Sherlock argued.
"Not the point," John informed him. Sherlock glared at him before standing up. Rather than getting his laptop, he picked up his violin moving to the window. A moment later, a loud screech filled the room followed by another. John reminded himself that Sherlock could actually play beautiful music when he wanted to. Usually, though, he set out to torture the violin and anyone within hearing range.
"Still not going to let you use mine," John spoke up as he picked up his book. Sherlock made a few more screeching noises across the strings, before putting his violin down. John watched as he glanced at his laptop on the table again. Walking towards it he stepped over the table to flop on the couch before finally picking it up. He opened it with a sigh that suggested it was more of an inconvenience than it truly was before logging in.
"The information I need is already pulled up on yours," Sherlock complained.
"Well, you should have thought about that before you used my laptop without my permission," John stated turning the page in his book. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at him. John kept one eye on him as he continued to read his book. Without an audience for his pouting, Sherlock soon was working on his laptop without any further complaint. The flat quiet once more John continued to read. He broke away for lunch making them both a meal and watching in quiet satisfaction as Sherlock once more ate. As the time for his departure grew nearer John went up to get dressed returning only a few minutes later. In the few minutes that he wasn't watching his laptop, Sherlock had once more commandeered it and was typing away. "You can't possibly make me believe that it was closer."
"Don't be an idiot," Sherlock mumbled. John walked over to the table reaching for it. Sherlock pulled it closer to himself turning so that John couldn't easily steal it again.
"Come on, Sherlock, I need to leave soon and I need to take my laptop with me," John tried to appeal to him.
"I'm busy," Sherlock answered. John sat down on the edge of the table.
"It's only for a few days and I will be back before you know it," John reassured him.
"Fine," Sherlock slammed the lid closed and pushed it towards John. He took it and put it in his bag. Sherlock watched him, the look on his face unreadable but the hint of worry in his eyes as he watched John make sure he had everything for his two-day trip. Finally, John stood with the bag in his hand. He wanted to go over to Sherlock and hug him goodbye but he wasn't sure it was welcome. Instead, he said his goodbyes heading down the stairs. Sherlock watched on from the window as John hailed a taxi and continued to watch until the taxi had driven out of sight. Flopping on the couch, he wondered briefly if he could convenience John to return. He eyed the items in the flat seeing a scalpel still sitting on the table where he had been dissecting the toe. A small slip and he would have a cut large enough to be tended to but not big enough to lose the use of his hand. He sighed running his fingers through the sides of his hair. John would just scold him and tell him to go to A&E. Besides he could survive on his own for a few days without John by his side. He had managed it perfectly well before he came and he would do it again when John finally came to his senses and left him.
Despite the thoughts that rampaged through his head about being alone it came as a relief when only about ten minutes after John left that a sleek black car pulled up to the curb. Sherlock didn't see it but heard the front door open and the familiar steps of Mycroft coming to the flat. He groaned loudly as he turned to bury his face in the back of the couch. A small thud caused him to lift his head and he glared at the suitcase that Mycroft had deposited just inside the door.
"Go away," he hissed in greeting. Mycroft ignored him as always as he crossed the living room taking a seat in John's chair. He looked at the book sitting on the end table with disdain.
"You have a choice Brother mine. I can stay with you or I can call Gregory to sit with you," Mycroft informed him calmly. Sherlock huffed loudly knowing it wasn't really a choice. If Mycroft stayed he would leave him alone and concentrate on working while Lestrade would insist on talking.
"Fine, but you're sleeping on the couch," Sherlock snipped at him.
"Of course," Mycroft agreed readily. He pulled the end table around setting up his laptop on it. Pulling out his phone he set to work keeping one eye on Sherlock as he continued to run the nation. Of course, everything was on par or below Sherlock's security clearance and information he could find out on his own as the night wore on though, Mycroft finally put his work away and turned to Sherlock.
"We need to talk," Mycroft told him seriously.
"If I wanted to talk, I would have opted for Lestrade to stay here," Sherlock answered him.
"What I am about to tell you is highly confidential. Neither Gregory nor John can be privy to the information," Mycroft told Sherlock. Trying not to show interest, Sherlock looked as bored as possible as he closed his laptop leaning back on the couch. "A week ago, my men captured Moriarty."
"You said he escaped," Sherlock interrupted.
"He was waiting just outside the pool and went into custody both quickly and willingly. Since then he has refused to talk despite my many attempts. Instead, he has written your name all over his cell and is demanding information about you. We have reason to believe that if we give him this information he will use it to destroy you," Mycroft finished. He wasn't foolish. He knew that Mycroft had an unknown number of people beneath him and simply killing him wouldn't resolve anything. Another person would step into Moriarty's shoes and the criminal web would continue on like normal. The only way to make sure that didn't happen would be to destroy the web but it would take more information and time to accomplish that. Information that he didn't have yet.
"I'm surprised you haven't already told him everything he wanted to know," Sherlock answered. Mycroft smiled grimly at him.
"As tempting as it is, I am not in the habit of leaking family secrets to the enemy," Mycroft replied. He had worked too hard over the years to make sure that Sherlock stayed alive and wasn't about to let him die now. Not that he would ever voice that to his brother.
"But it is the only way to stop him," Sherlock answered.
"Yes," Mycroft replied.
"Then tell him what he needs to know," Sherlock told him confidently. Mycroft nodded. He hated how easy it was to get Sherlock's permission to destroy him when all he wanted to do was protect his brother. He would be careful with how much he told Moriarty, not letting him know the true extent of Sherlock's neurological issues or the suffering he endured as a child at the hands of their sister, or what happened to him five years ago. He would keep the information as vague and focused on Sherlock's cases as possible. Hopefully, he would be able to manipulate it so that he could stop Moriarty before he was able to hurt Sherlock. If not, he would do his best to save his brother.
"I'll keep you informed on the proceedings," Mycroft reassured him as he picked up his phone to send a message to Anthea. The conversation over, Sherlock returned to his work on his laptop while Mycroft finished his message before wandering to the kitchen in search of food. He opened the freezer slightly taken back at what he found inside. "Why do you have toes in the freezer?"
Sherlock smiled.
At the same time, across the Irish Sea, John frowned as he looked around the small room that would be his for the next few days. He had stayed in worse but that wasn't the point. He didn't want to be here and almost as soon as he stepped on the plane he wondered what he was running from. He knew in heart that he would take any sort of a relationship that Sherlock was willing to give him if that meant he got to keep the mad man close to him. He was foolish to think that space would give him the ability to think about their relationship when all he could think about was how he wanted to be back in their flat with Sherlock near him. He was tempted to turn around and get on a plane back to London tonight, but he had already committed to the seminar and he was going to see it through. He picked up his phone looking at the screen. Before he could change his mind he sent a quick message to Sherlock.
*I think this hotel room has several unidentified mold species growing under the window*
*Bring back samples SH*
*And milk SH*
*I'm in Dublin.*
*No rush SH*
*Get your own milk or wait until Sunday night*
John rolled his eyes as he set the phone down on the small bedside table and took a seat on the side of the bed. He glanced quickly at the clock and saw that he still had ten hours before the first seminar started. It was going to be a long night.