Hey guys! Thanks to the positive reviewers in the last chapter! I would just like to say that with school and everything, I won't be updating nearly as often as I would like to. But bare with me, you'll get updates every so often. Hope you enjoy this chapter!
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, I'm just borrowing them!
Chapter two
"Watson!" A familiar voice echoed down the hall at him. Greg Lestrade was striding towards him. "John, what's wrong?" he asked, noticing John's stricken face. John recounted all that had happened, and then said; "he said he'd been working on some confidential case, one that he hadn't told me anything about. If he had...maybe I could have stopped him going out, or gone with him and prevented the attack. But he never told me anything...I didn't even see him working on the case, whenever I looked he was doing experiments or updating his blog." John sighed, and looked at Greg.
"Did you know anything of this case?" Greg stalled, hesitant.
"I...no I didn't...I...he had a case?!" His stunned face would have been funny had it been under different circumstances. John nodded. Even if Lestrade does know anything, he isn't going to tell me. John thought bitterly.
"Well, I hope he's alright." Lestrade said, "And tell him if he needs anything for the case, I'm only too happy to help." John nodded again, turned, and walked out of Scotland yard. A fat load of use that was. As he exited the building, his mind lost in thought, he didn't see the man coming in. Well, not until he walked straight into him.
"Hey!" an indignant voice called. John looked up, surprised, and then gaped. The guy's eyes were a vibrant green, most unnatural, but that wasn't the thing that caught his eyes the most. The pupils were slits, like a cat's. John blinked, and suddenly his eyes were a normal green, with normal pupils. John rubbed his own eyes.
"Ah, I'm sorry, I...wasn't looking." He attempted a polite smile, but it seemed he'd forgotten how to.
"No, no, don't worry. You alright, mate, you look a bit shaken?" He asked. John just looked at him.
"I...no, not really. I need a strong tea and a flatmate who tells me things." The guy looked confused. "Sorry, you don't need to know that." The guy laughed shortly, and then held out a hand.
"I'm sure I recognise you from somewhere, I'm Barty Smith." John took Barty's hand and shook it.
"John Watson, I'm not sure I've ever met you so-"
"John Watson! Yes, a friend of mine, Sherlock Holmes, has a picture of you on his mantle, I asked who it was, he said your name, you're his brother, but, you died in action, in Afghanistan, this doesn't make any sense." John looked at Barty agape.
"You...you've been to my house?" He asked, a slightly sharper tone to his voice than he intended.
"Your house? Sherlock said he lived alone with your mother. In fact, I met your mother. But, you're supposed to be dead!" Barty said, shock resonating in his voice. My mother?! I'm supposed to be dead?! What had Sherlock done this time?!
"I'm sorry, but I live with Sherlock, and our housekeeper lives in the flat below us. My mother doesn't live with us at all. I didn't die in action, I am very much alive. I don't know why Sherlock told you all of this. Look, are you in a hurry or can you spare time to come to Baker Street with me, and we can sort this out." John gestured towards the cab bay. Barty looked shifty.
"Sherlock said I was never to come back to his unless I'd been invited by him. I don't think I should."
"Nonsense. I live there too, I'm free to come and go as I please and bring with me whomever I like. So please, join me." John saw the hesitance in his eyes and sighed. "Look, I've had a shit day so far and I just want something to go my way. So please, I shall ask again, join me?" Barty looked slightly startled at John's outburst, and nodded.
"Okay, I'm sorry to have agrivate-"
"No, no, I'm sorry for being so blunt." John turned and hailed a cab. "221B Baker Street, please." The cab driver nodded, John and Barty got in, and they set off.
"So, Sherlock doesn't tell you stuff?" Barty asked. The question surprised John.
"What?" He asked, still not managing to keep a hold of his bluntness.
"You said you needed a strong tea and a flatmate who tells you things. I remember things like that." He smiled. John sighed.
"Normally we work on cases together, you probably know he's a consulting detective," Barty nodded. "I found out he'd been working on a confidential case that didn't involve me. He didn't even tell me about it. Just kept me in the dark about it all."
"Oh." Was all Barty said, before turning to look out the window of his window. John sighed again, and then turned to look out of his own. The rest of the journey passed in silence. When they arrived, John paid the driver, and got out. He checked Barty was behind him before walking up to the front door and opening it. Mrs Hudson was out in the hall with a duster, she looked round as the door opened.
"Oh John, there yo- oh, hello again." She said to them. "Sherlock's upstairs, Barty, John, a word." Barty nodded and started up the stairs, his eyes catching sight of the bloody handprint on the wall. He didn't say anything about it, but it was obvious how much he wanted to. When Barty was safely out of ear shot, Mrs Hudson turned to John.
"The young gentlman, Barty, he...Sherlock has had him over quite a lot, always when you were out. It's probably to do with the case, but he thinks your Sherlock's brother, and I'm your mother. He also thinks you're dead. You've told him otherwise?" John nodded.
"Yes, he recognised me from the picture on the mantel piece upstairs. I walked into him coming out of Scotland Yard. We got talking, he told me that, he was very much surprised when I told him I wasn't dead, and so I told him he needed to come here and so we can sort this out. Sherlock needs to talk to me."
"Hmm, yes, I understand. Okay, well, they're upstairs." Mrs Hudson smiled and went back to her dusting. John climbed the stairs and walked into the open door of their apartment.
"Sherlock, brother dear, aren't you glad to see me back from the dead, mother certainly was." John snapped, as Sherlock looked his way.
"Yes, I am." Sherlock said simply. "I believe you've met Barty." Anger boiled up inside John. Trust him to be so insufferable about all this.
"Sherlock!" John shouted his fists balled. "Would you mind telling me what the f**k is going on!" Sherlock looked at John, his head slightly to one side. He got up from his armchair, and walked into the kitchen. John followed him.
"So I'm walking out of Scotland yard when I walk into Barty-"
"Careless."
"-I walk into Barty. Apologies are exchanged and he says he recognises me. I know for a fact that I have never seen this man in my life and try to persuade him otherwise. Names are then exchanged and he realises where he recognises me from, and that I'm apparently supposed to be dead, you're supposed to be my brother, and Mrs Hudson is supposed to be my mother! What the hell, Sherlock?!" John breaths deeply. Sherlock leans against the counter; his hands pressed together, fingers touching his lips.
"It was for the case." John glared at Sherlock. "I couldn't tell him you were alive, he'd think I was going behind your back."
"You were, Sherlock, you were!"
"Yes, but I didn't need him to know that. John, I have my reasons."
"I need to know, Sherlock! You can't just expect me to accept you're working behind my back on a 'confidential' case, that's just not how I role. You should know that, Sherlock." Sherlock nodded slowly.
"I do. Do you think I want to be working on this alone? Do you think I don't value your judgment, and companionship? John, if I wanted to be working alone, I would have told you about this case a long time ago, and told you I couldn't work with you." He massaged his forehead, and then stood up straight. "I'm bound by confidentiality on this one, John! I simply cannot tell you about it." John frowned.
"Have you been cursed so you can't speak of it to me or something?" Sherlock's chin dropped slightly. "Christ, I was only joking, Sherlock! But seriously, you could tell me what it's about, and I'll promise not to get-"
"No! John, I can't! You don't get it. You can't get it." Sherlock shook his head.
"Fine. Fine, I won't ask. You won't tell. But I will ask, why when I bumped into Barty did I look up to see to vivid green cat eyes looking back at me?"
"Because you're short John." Sherlock said quietly, before walking out of the kitchen. John leaned back against the counter. He could hear quiet talking from the lounge. Walking towards the door, he stayed out of sight but listened in.
"-I didn't know he was going to bump into me, Sherlock." Barty was saying.
"You were in a public place, don't you always keep them hidden?" Sherlock said, his tone dangerous.
"Normally, but I was tired, I couldn't be bothered."
"You'll get in trouble if you don't hide them."
"I can pass them off for contacts, Sherlock. Loads of people do it."
"Yes, loads of teenagers in cosplay. Sure, are you going to dress up as Magnus from that teenager book, now?"
"What? No! Sherlock, I can handle my own eyes!" John turned away from the door and got a mug from the cupboard noisily; he then put the kettle on and made himself a strong tea. Walking out into the lounge, he said to Barty:
"Well, I got my strong tea."
So, how was that? Let me know what you think!
Thanks for reading!
SnazzyPiLock
