"So far I have found four children under the age of thirteen, nine children under the age of sixteen, and five more under the age of eighteen. It seems Sherlock sparked something in Trevor, as one year after Sherlock broke things off there is a string of attacks. Additionally, all eighteen boys looked extraordinarily like him. I have sent out agents to the victims, and the families of those still underaged over the week and twelve want to prosecute. We're confident when the other victims hear people are standing up they will be more inclined to want to step up too. " Mycroft reeled off. It was now certain the politician knew exactly what had happened to his younger brother, but he remained detached and cold. At first John was angry for the lack of compassion, but then he remembered he is a Holmes. The politician was most definitely affected, just not showing emotion.
John flicked his eyes down to Sherlock resting in his lap as they sat spending their day on the sofa. It had been over a week since the detective opened up to John, and the week had been interesting to say the least. Sherlock had returned to his usual self after that night, and the soldier was extremely relieved, even if it did mean he was at the brunt of the detective's intermittent rage. Once he was fully rested after the night he opened up, Sherlock was angry that John had gone to his brother. John guessed at the time when he said it was ok, Sherlock was too exhausted to mind who knew. However, once it sunk in that his brother was going to know everything that happened, he (reasonably) took it out on John. At first, John guessed his partner wasn't even aware he was angry and why. It started with silence and ignoring the doctor, though Sherlock soon became bored. Then it progressed to personal items going missing, such as a few of John's older (more hideous, Sherlock had said) jumpers. Next, Sherlock would snap at John for inconsequential and ridiculous things such as breathing too loudly or blaming him when his tea went cold before he could finish it. So Sherlock was definitely acting his usual self, just for once it was directed at John, which he was secretly glad for as it gave him a distraction. Finally, after only three days, Sherlock understood his anger and shouted at John. Mycroft had called claiming they had found a trail of possible rapes, and John estimates Sherlock had shouted and ranted from the opposite side of the living room for over twenty minutes with barely a breath. After ten minutes, Mrs Hudson had come to see what was happening, but quickly scurried away at the murderous glance Sherlock fired at her.
John felt absolutely terrible. He had acted rashly, and now he was paying for it. It wouldn't surprise John if his partner never trusted him again and asked him to move out. Mycroft seemed the most logical person to help at that helpless moment in time, but John had completely ignored the rivalry, hostility and pure hatred the brothers sometimes displayed to each other. The soldier simply stood and let Sherlock let go of his rage, feeling increasingly worse with each deserved insult. After twenty minutes, Sherlock finally halted his pacing and raged movements, after looking over at John. Maybe Sherlock saw the raw, genuine regret and pain in his partner's eyes, because he suddenly broke off mid sentence and meticulously deduced him. The anger drained from his face and the detective let his exhaustion finally take over. Sherlock permitted John take him to their room to put him to bed, and the doctor was surprised, but overwhelmingly relieved, when his partner held on to his jumper to prevent him from leaving. John lay down behind Sherlock and brought him into a tight embrace, pressing loving kisses into his hairline, shoulders and neck. Sherlock lay completely still the whole time.
"How many did Mycroft say there were?" He asked, his voice breaking from the shouting.
"So far eleven, but he estimates there are more." John answered quickly, wanting to keep Sherlock talking. However, there was a long pause as Sherlock stared unseeingly at the wall, the silence only broken by the two men's breathing. John had no clue what his partner was thinking.
"I want to hate you, but I want to forgive you. I don't want Mycroft to be involved, but I want justice for them without being involved. I am so angry, but I'm so exhausted." Sherlock confessed flatly, his voice betraying no emotion.
John didn't know what to say. Instead, he continued running his hand soothingly up his partner's arm and let Sherlock work out his feelings. No apology had worked before today, and it's not what he needed now. John started to nod off before his partner turning around to face him startled him awake. The piercing grey eyes studied his own.
"I do forgive you, John. Knowing Mycroft has found others changes things. I wish we had talked about it, but I understand." Sherlock said softly, wrapping his arms around John.
Once more, no words were needed. Sherlock saw at once the pure relief and happiness in his partner's eyes, and they stayed wrapped up until they fell asleep together for the first time in two days.
Thankfully, after that night, the days went much smoother. With no cases, Sherlock's boredom was difficult to control. However, there were thankfully new ways to distract his brilliant mind. Everything 'John' was completely new, and Sherlock was satisfied for hours just cuddling up to the doctor. Of course, when John left for work, he was fearful of whether the house would be standing when he got back. It was easy not to accidentally treat his partner like a victim when he was back to being his unbearable as always. Tricking Sherlock into eating, finding weird and dangerous experiments around the house and making him sleep was oddly comforting to John.
"John?" Mycroft questioned. Oh yes, he was on the phone.
"Sorry, Sherlock distracted me." John said, receiving an outraged pout from his partner followed by a childish sticking out of the tongue.
"And dare I ask how my dearest brother is holding up?" Mycroft drawled, seemingly indifferent.
"Not shooting the walls yet." John joked, earning another glare from the gorgeous man in his lap.
"Look after him, John." Mycroft said, sincerely. Before John could comment on the politician's break of unconcern, he launched back into the point of the call. "So now we need to decide who to bring in to deal with this. I would love to just make him disappear, but the victims and their families will not understand that. They need to see a conviction. The twelve we're in contact with are willing to go to court and prosecute if needed. The press are going to pick up on this case straight away. A board of director from the leading pharmaceutical company being accused of twelve counts of rape on under aged children is going to attract publicity. Now, I have a few people in mind…"
"Lestrade." Sherlock, said.
"Wha-" John stuttered, breaking Mycroft off.
"Put Mycroft on speaker." Sherlock asked, looking determined. "Lestrade is the only one for the job. I do not doubt my name is going to come up at some point, and Lestrade is the only one who will omit it completely if I wish. He is also the only one I trust to know such information, and rely on not to go to the papers."
"He did cross my mind." Mycroft mused.
"Then meddle and have it done," Sherlock said, getting up and making his way to his bedroom to get away from the conversation.
"Gregory Lestrade will be briefed tomorrow. I will call you in when Trevor has been brought into custody. Good day, John." Mycroft said, ending the call.
As soon as the call ended, John made his way after Sherlock, lightly knocking on the door even though it was open, to see if his presence was welcome.
"You can come in." Sherlock sighed, barely intelligible due to the fact he was laying face down on the bed with his head pressed into the pillows.
John slowly climbed onto the bed, sitting with his back against the headboard whilst running a comforting hand down his partner's back. John did not say anything. There was nothing really to say, but he was here if Sherlock needed to talk. John was beginning to think Sherlock had fallen asleep when he finally spoke.
"I hate this. I hate that it still affects me. This isn't me! How am I so sentimental about something so insignificant, when even the average person would have moved the hell on by now?" Sherlock muttered. He sounded tired and defeated.
"It isn't insignificant. People may react differently, but there is not a wrong or right way to behave. You're feeling a lot worse now because it has all been brought back again." John soothed.
Sherlock turned over onto his back in frustration, and looked to the ceiling. "But I'm a sociopath. I don't have feelings."
"I think we both know that's not true, Sherlock." John said, joining his partner by sliding down to lay on the bed beside him. "Look at me. It's ok to have feelings and emotions. It's more than ok to be human sometimes. It's just me."
Sherlock looked deeply in John's eyes, and instead of replying, placed a tender kiss upon John's forehead. Pulling back, he tried to show the intense emotions he was feeling for the soldier that he was unable to understand or convey. Seeing only love back, Sherlock softly captured the older man's lips. Both men relaxed into the kiss, moving closer together, legs entwined, and arms bringing them as close together as possible.
John felt his eyes well up at the intense emotion he was feeling for his partner in this moment. If this was all Sherlock could give him, he would die a happy man. Feeling a drop of water fall onto his cheek, Sherlock pulled back and looked up at John, confused and worried.
"Happy tears." John reassured, bringing his hand up to brush the hair out of his partner's eyes, letting his hand tangle into the curls.
"This is the happiest I've ever felt." Sherlock said, trying to keep a nonchalant tone.
" Me too." John agreed, smiling so much it almost hurt.
"Oh god, now I'm getting cheesy." Sherlock groaned.
They both burst into giggles, feeling lighter than air. Breathless, John recaptured his partner's lips, though both found it hard to kiss due to their inability to stop smiling. For once, luck was in their favour, and no one disturbed them for the rest of the day.
Sorry this chapter took so long. I am feeling really bad about my writing right now, and I don't know why. I am second guessing everything I write and I feel like I'm dragging sections of the story out that I thought were important, but now rereading I don't know if it is, and if I'm focusing too much on Sherlock's feelings. I don't know... Hopefully you guys enjoy this chapter and I can go back to feeling better about my writing!