Guardian Chapter 16

-Present time-

"So that's it." concluded John. "Mycroft saved me. I'm not sure he's even aware how much he helped me, but I wouldn't be here without him."

Sherlock had been listening intently from the other side of the small living room. John had told him everything. Well, almost everything. John had promised Mycroft that he would never tell anyone about the night with the gun, and he was going to keep his promise.

The tall, dark haired man looked like he would be the next person fainting. His face was riddled with guilt and he was fidgeting with the handle of his empty tea cup.

For a while the flat was almost silent, the only noises coming from the street outside. Sherlock was the one who interrupted the pause.

"I am sorry, John. Please forgive me."

John shook his head, and for a moment Sherlock thought the man was going to laugh. He didn't.

"Don't you dare give me that bullshit apology, Sherlock Holmes"

The reply wasn't shouted, instead it was eerily quiet and threateningly angry.

"You used that apology on Molly years ago. You weren't sorry. You're never sorry."

Sherlock looked hurt. He thought about telling John that he had been sincere towards Molly, but the doctor's anger warned him not to.

There was another long pause as both the men's brains buzzed, trying to process a backlog of new information. Sherlock couldn't get over how much he had meant to John. 'He nearly killed himself' was on repeat in his mind.

John's mind however was all over the place. His best friend was alive… but… but Sherlock Holmes was not his best friend. Not anymore. He didn't even know if he liked this man anymore. Why should he, after all he put him through?

"Are you and Mary still…" Sherlock trailed off.

"Like you care" whispered John bitterly.

Sherlock knew he had a point. He had never shown much interest in any of John's girlfriends. He had rarely even bothered to learn their names.

"Yes actually. Surprising isn't it? That someone like her would want to go out with someone as pathetic as me!" John's voice was beginning to raise.

"I was actually thinking about asking her to move in with me. Forward, I know, we've only known each other for a few months, but why not? I better tell her it's over now that you're back. You'll only go and ruin it for me like you used to!"

Sherlock was beginning to look smaller, younger. John noticed that the man was looking much more vulnerable than he did three years ago. He felt momentarily apologetic for shouting. He didn't mean it, he was just so angry.

All of a sudden a wave of emotions passed over the short sandy-haired man. Before he could stop himself he had tears gushing over his cheeks. If he hadn't have been sitting down he would have sunk to his knees. He tried desperately to make himself stop crying. Sherlock was scared. He had never seen John cry before. He didn't know what to do. John felt embarrassed. He didn't cry, he never cried, so why could he not stop himself now? His head was aching from where he had hit it and the room was blurry with tears.

Sherlock walked timidly to the sofa and sat down next to his friend. John tried to push him away, but the tall dark haired man pulled him into a comforting hug. After a few moments John stopped trying to resist and let his head rest on Sherlock's shoulder as it became damp with tears. It was nearly half an hour before either of them spoke again.

"Are you okay now?" asked Sherlock quietly.

John thought it was a stupid question, but agreed anyway.

"Good." said Sherlock more cheerfully. "First thing tomorrow I'll go and see Mrs Hudson. Ask about getting the flat back. I've been looking forward to seeing-"

"No." John cut across him.

Sherlock hesitated for a moment. "What do you mean?"

"You can go and get the flat back, but you'll be staying there alone. I'm not moving back in with you. I'm staying here. I want to start a life with Mary. I'm not ready to forgive you yet."

Sherlock sat there for a moment, taken aback.

"John, it'll be just like before. We could solve crimes. You could re-start your blog. I'll get everything sorted with Detective Inspector Lest-"

"No you won't." snapped John. "And you know why?"

Sherlock looked confused.

"There is no Detective inspector Lestrade, not anymore. Your little trick cost him his job, and his marriage. So don't you think that you can just swan back in here and everything will be okay, because it isn't, Sherlock!"

The doctor had pushed Sherlock away now. Sherlock momentarily assumed a blank face, as he always did when he didn't want to show he was hurt by something, but even he couldn't keep it up. The mouth curled downwards. Tears sprung to the eyes and he fought to hold them back.

"John what I did… It was necessary."

John gave him a hateful look. One he had only seen the man use once before… before the fall. He had used it when faced with James Moriarty for the last time.

"There were three gunmen with their guns trained on the people who meant the most to me. One on Mrs Hudson, one on Lestrade, and one on you. I couldn't let them pull the triggers. I had to come up with a plan."

John looked disgusted.

"The people who meant the most to you? What about your brother? Does he mean anything to you?"

"Of course he does! He's my brother, but we haven't exactly been close since… Well since he was a teenager! Anyway, I knew he'd be fine! He always is! With all that goes on in his schedule I doubt he has time to think about me!"

Sherlock was finding the conversation about Mycroft almost amusing, but John looked hateful.

"You knew he'd be fine?" whispered John, anger rising in his voice. "He wasn't fine, Sherlock. He was far, far from fine."

John had stood up now, his hands clenched into fists. Sherlock was beginning to feel scared.

"Look, John, let me explain everything." he began, but John wouldn't let him utter another word.

"Don't you dare speak another word until your brother gets here, Sherlock Holmes, or you're going to wish you had actually died."

Mycroft arrived earlier than expected. John wondered why he was surprised. The man had probably made the traffic clear, after all.

There were two knocks at the door. John stood up to answer, giving Sherlock a warning look as he did. When he pulled open the door he found a tall, smartly dressed red haired man. Mycroft had his usual emotionless business-like face on. Before John could say anything to him, he had strode through the door into the small room. As he faced Sherlock, his emotionless expression failed him, but only for a moment. Sherlock stood up as he entered the room, and they stood face to face looking into each other's eyes as if communicating through thought. The whole flat was silent. For a moment, John thought Mycroft would hit his brother. What did happen, however, was something that hadn't even crossed his mind.

"Well thanks for that." said Sherlock, suddenly light hearted.

Mycroft nodded. "At least you won't have to do the same for me one day. I don't even have any plants you could water."

"Well you could have at least sent more money. I've been living off toast and noodles for the last year and a half! I had to wash my hair with fairy liquid!"

"I asked if you wanted to come and stay for a while!"

"What, and have John bump into me while he goes to fetch his morning cup of tea?"

"There was always the attic!"

"You know you would never let me up there! Who knows what kind of secrets I'd find hidden in those boxes?"

"You know, I don't know why I bothered! If I had known you were going to be this childish when you came back I would have sent you away to stay with Mummy. Then she could have looked after you!"

John stood opened mouthed by the equally open door.

"What the hell is going on?!" he shouted.

The Holmes brothers stopped arguing and turned to face him. Sherlock looked amused, but Mycroft looked like a child caught stealing sweets.

"John…" began Mycroft. "I… Sherlock…"

His younger brother cut across him.

"I had to get Mycroft to help me. I was running out of money. He's been helping me-"

That's all he managed to get out. John's fist hit him on the jaw with a crack. John raised his fist again, ready to punch the tall man in front of him.

"I can't believe you, Mycroft Holmes!" John yelled. "You… You were going to kill yourself! You were only pretending? After all this time?"

Mycroft shook his head. His shields were down. John could see emotions running over his face. Sherlock stopped rubbing his jaw and looked at his brother. Mycroft held out his hands in a plea to make John listen.

"I didn't know at that point. I got the phone call a week after… After the night with the gun."

John's face showed only anger, yet there were still tears trickling down his face.

"I wished I could have told you. I really did. Sherlock told me I couldn't tell. He said you were still in danger. The best I could do was get you a job."

John was shaking his head in anger. He hated every word that was spilling out of the man's mouth. He raised his fist to punch the man, then stopped. He looked at the man's broken nose from when he had last been punched by John. A wave of sympathy swept over him.

'The man thought he had lost his brother, yet after everything, he looked after me. He stopped me from jumping.'

John pulled Mycroft into a hug. The Government 'Official' looked surprised. He had expected a punch in the face. Sherlock went back to rubbing his jaw, more sulkily this time as he had received a punch and his older brother had been given a hug.

When John pulled back he smiled slightly. His voice was quiet and croaked.

"Thank you, Mycroft."

AN: Well, that's it! Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. All your reviews have meant so much to me. Thank you all very much. If you have anything to say about the story, please leave a review or send an ask to Thanks again for reading, I hope you've found it worth your time!