It was a long few flights back to England, but finally, still a bit worn out and in his uniform, John arrives in London. His flight being on time, the first thing he is glad of is that he packed thicker clothes, the time he's spent in warmer climates making him more sensitive to the cold.
After he makes his way through the crowded airport to retrieve his bag, the doctor turns to start making his way out when a young, curvy brunette approaches him. She is the type of mysterious woman that usually would catch John's eye and the type he would try to flirt with, but between the long flight and being preoccupied with other thoughts, he finds himself uninterested in flirting.
"Captain Watson, I presume?" The woman asks in a smooth voice which is deeper than what John would expect. Pleasant at the moment but he has enough experience to know that if needed, that voice would turn sharp as a razor's edge.
"Yes, that's me." John says as he watches the woman, already knowing that she is aware of who she is talking to, he saw her eyes flit over his name and rank insignia. And while he did tell Sherlock he could make his own way, John can see this being just the sort of odd gesture he would make, while thinking he is being helpful.
"Mr. Holmes sent me, please follow me." The woman says politely before she turns, pulling out her phone as she walks, leading the way to the curb where a sleek, shiny black sedan is waiting.
Sighing a little, John has very little time to look around before he puts his bag in the back and slides in, the woman sitting in the back with him, which he thinks is a little odd, but who knows what the mind of Sherlock Holmes can come up with.
Just as he is about to open his mouth to tell them where to bring him, the car starts moving, and John has to berate himself for not guessing that Sherlock would tell them where to bring him. Since the woman seems to be buried in her phone, the blonde turns to the window to watch then city go by, with all the lights and decorations for Christmas, people bundled up for the brisk weather doing holiday shopping. Or at least that's what it looks like to John.
After what seems like a long time, John notices that they are not going in the right direction, straightening in his seat to look more warily at the woman beside him wishing he had his gun. "I know it's been a while since I was in London, but I am fairly sure we aren't going to Sherlock's flat. So where are we going?" John asks in a tone that disguises any trepidation he might be feeling, and instead paints the picture of a strong, wary soldier.
"Mr. Holmes wishes to speak to you." The brunette says almost absently as she stares at her phone, tapping away on it. She doesn't seem intent on explaining herself any further however, as she doesn't even glance up from her screen.
And then it dawns on him and John realizes that Sherlock may have been right when implying the doctor also might be an idiot. The woman beside him only ever said 'Mr. Holmes', and there is more than one of them. The first clue should have been the gesture itself, since it is very un-Sherlock like. Not to mention that the detective did warn John that his brother might try something like this. So it seems the elder Holmes has kidnapped John, probably for some interview or intimidation routine. Nodding once to himself, the doctor just smiles as he tries to figure out what approach he should take with the mysterious figure he is going to meet.
The location could not have been more cliché if John had gone looking for a cliché location, he muses to himself. The car stops in what appears to be an old warehouse district by the docks with a lean figure standing by the water in a nice three piece suit and leaning ever so slightly on am umbrella which is obviously not needed and more for show than anything else. After sitting there for a moment he notices his companion give him a firm look and he sighs before slowly getting out of the car.
The wind off the Thames is cold and sends a chill through John, even through his fatigues as he walks purposely toward where the man is standing. "Mr. Holmes I presume." The army doctor speaks as he gets within a few feet of the darkly dressed man, but carefully out of arm's reach, if not out of reach of his umbrella.
Slowly turning, Mycroft stops leaning on his umbrella and instead twists its tip into the dilapidated concrete they stand on. "Yes. It is a pleasure to meet you, the infamous Captain John Watson. Or do you prefer Doctor? I must admit, you are not quite what I expected. Much more plain. Odd how you have captured my brother's attention." He says dryly, no obvious insult in the casual tone of his voice, which is lighter than his brother's and yet just as dismissively condescending.
"What can I say, there's more to me than meets the eye. And I am one hell of a letter writer." John says easily with a little smirk as he watches the taller, slightly pudgy man. The only indication that he might be less than pleased with Mycroft's cutting remarks is his left hand balling into a fist by his side.
"Indeed." Mycroft says dryly as he watches John. "I must say, when I heard about the ridiculous program they had my brother involved in, I thought it would be short lived. Sherlock is not an easy man to get along, as I am sure you are aware. But to find someone who can tolerate him, well, that is a rare gift." He says slowly, lowering his head a little to watch John, and make sure he understands what the older man is saying. "I see great things in your future, Captain Watson. I believe you could be the making of my brother. Or make him worse than ever, but I sincerely hope that will not be the case." While his tone does not change much, it does lighten up near the end, and he finally offers his hand to John, never taking his eyes off the soldier in front of him.
Surprised at the turn the conversation took, John isn't quite sure what to make of this man, so he merely gives him a curt nod, "I value his friendship, and I hope I can be a good friend to him, Mr. Holmes, but I'm not sure about anything else." He speaks honestly, shaking Mycroft's hand firmly.
Mycroft smiles - a close-lipped, almost oily smile, but a smile nonetheless - as he shakes John's hand, considering him for a moment. "Yes, well, Sherlock has never been good at making friends, so I do hope you will be able to keep his friendship." He says calmly, glancing over when his assistant approaches.
"Sir, if you're going to make your meeting, we need to leave now." She states as a second, nicer car pulls up, glancing between the two men before she looks down at her phone again.
"Thank you, Anthea." The elder Holmes says calmly before he gives John another one of those smiles. "That car will take you to my brother's flat. I look forward to talking to you again, Captain." He says casually before he turns to head to the other car, swinging his umbrella slowly as he walks. The woman - Anthea - follows him and gets into the car behind him, leaving John by the docks.
After the car door closes on the others, John turns his head to look out over the dilapidated docks, the warehouses in obvious disrepair and the quiet river. Sighing and watching his breath billow out in a white cloud, the doctor finally turns back to the waiting car, getting in and then once again taking up his position gazing out the window comparing everything to what he remembers, noticing new shops replacing old ones and some buildings that sit empty, reminding others of days gone by. As they get closer to their destination, John's excitement builds until the car stops outside Sherlock's building.
Briefly thanking the driver, John gets out and pulls out his bags before he reminds himself what flat number it is by glancing at the envelope he stashed in his pocket, and then proceeds toward the building and up to the top floor. When he finally stands in front of the nondescript door, he can feel his hands shaking with adrenaline brought on by his anxiety and anticipation until finally he lifts his hand and knocks.
Silence. And then footsteps, bare feet on wood, the sound of a deadbolt and chain being undone, until finally the door handle slowly starts to turn. Quickly, the door is pulled open and Sherlock is revealed, wearing skinny jeans, a t-shirt, hair a ruffled mess from hands running through it, and a blue dressing gown over it all. Bright eyes take in the shocked soldier in front of him, and a small smirk spreads over his lips.
"Captain John Watson, M.D. We meet at last."
Apparently because of changes at work, I am back to posting once a week. Sorry.. I am trying to post more but it's not working out so well. I hope you enjoyed this, I really liked having Mycroft meet John at last! more to come. :D
Reviews/Comments welcome!