Chapter 5: What a Good Man You Are~
He wakes up on his own settee, to hear faintly the voices of his father, and John talking.
It's the week after Christmas, and his parents were scheduled to head home tomorrow morning.
If his dad is here tonight, then they must have a reason to delay their plans.
He concludes that he is the reason ,when he finds he can't even sit up straight, so he just lays there letting the room swirl like tiny dancers made in lights and shadows, and the ball room is his eyes.
"I really must thank you for saving him tonight...Any number of things could have happened to him, running about, out of his head like that."
John smiles, "It's really no trouble...I'd never have forgiven myself if..."He can't say it. But he thinks.
If I lost him again...I think it would kill me. Actually, I KNOW that it would.
"You ...are like a brother to him ,John." says Sherlock's father, with a kind smile on his wizened old face.
"You know, once upon a time, I had three boys. I won't tell you what happened to the third, but it was a very bad situation. There will always be a hole ,a gaping emptiness in our lives, that he left.
He is some of the reason the boys have deleted all sentiment. Have taken the notion that caring is a disadvantage...I thought they should be broken forever...and for years I had hoped something would come along, to somewhat fill the emptiness, knowing that their brother couldn't be replaced...
But then, heaven sent them another brother, I think. And though it can't replace the one they lost, I think the love they have for the one they found far exceeds said loss. They love you, each in his own way, and Sherlock,...I don't think he has ever loved another human being so much as he does you, Doctor Watson. In fact, I'm certain he has not..."
John has to swallow tears, as the kind old man says, "Welcome to my family, John. I'm very glad you're here now."
"Yeah, yeah me too.", he whispers, letting a huff. They stand in silence for a long moment.
"His mother...needs to know."John says, out of the blue. "I know...he doesn't want her to, but she needs to. His brother needs to know ,too. Because...I've lived this, I know ...he may be this way...for a very long time. He...may never...get over it,at all... And...he will only get worse, if he thinks, he has to hide it from them..."
"How's this sound? You deal with Mycroft, and I'll deal with Mum." Mr. Holmes winked, with a smile.
John smiled, "Deal." he pulled his mobile out. "I'll do it now."
"And I'll go check on Sherlock..."says Dad, and slips into the living room.
Sherlock concludes that he must have fallen asleep again, when he feels his Dad's hand on his forehead, and snaps awake, a little too violently.
"Easy, fighter..." Dad laughs, using a childhood nickname he'd given his youngest son. "It's just me..."
"Dad?" he croaks, and tries to sit up.
"Oi , no, no. Lay still. You've already broken the wounds on your back open again, let's not break the ones on your chest open too..."
Sherlock lays back, and closes his eyes. " You were going to Brighton in the morning. To visit Aunt Lucinda before you headed home."
"Oh, between you and me, I'd rather eat the belly of a pig than go to Aunt Lucinda's."
Sherlock smiles.
"Have I ever told you that I'm proud of you?"
Sherlock's eyes fly open again, perplexed.
"I haven't given you much reason?"
"No, you've given me hundreds of reasons...Even when you were on drugs...I was proud of the brilliant man you were then, proud of the brilliant man you could one day become when you overcame that obstacle. And you did, and I was only even more proud then..."
Sherlock shakes his head, but his dad caresses his face. "I have loved you since the moment I heard your first cries in the hospital. I will love you no less, no matter how many times you Fall. And I will love you until one of us breathes our last...I hope it's me first."
Having just hung up with Mycroft, who is on his way over, John steps into the room, and hears the exchange between the elder Holmes and his son.
A pause had filled the air, and Sherlock breathed to protest, when his Dad cut him off:
"I'm not going to tell your mother..."
"Good..."
"No, Sherlock... WE are going to tell your mother..."
"But, I...It's..."
"No...You may be a genius,...And I'm just a boring, ordinary old man...but Sherlock...I'm still your father. And I still know what's best for my family."
"John..."Sherlock groans, as the young doctor comes into the room.
"Yeah, uh, you're gonna be a bit not happy with me, but that was actually my idea..."
"Really, John?"
"Sherlock...she needs to know." John mutters, sitting down in his chair, watching the Holmesian debate going on.
Silence.
"She,...may not want to see me any more..."
Silence as the other two men are perplexed by the very idea of this.
"She's your mother..."John whispered.
"She is...I was...her son...But now...I'm..."
He looks down at himself, where blood is beginning to well up through the button up white shirt he's wearing.
"I'm...not...ok." he says ,softly, horrified that he is admitting weakness to two of the strongest men he knows.
The third strongest being Mycroft, who has just stepped in the room, at that exact moment.
"We know that. But you are still you." Dad says. "And you...are a good man,..."
He whispers the last bit, and mutters, more to Mycroft than Sherlock, " I'll talk Mum down tonight, and let her come to visit in the morning."
"Good." Mycroft says simply.
Mr. Holmes bows over Sherlock then, and kisses him firmly between his eyes, making a swift and silent exit, very alike his two boys would do.
Mycroft comes, and stands over Sherlock, scrutinizing him...
"What to do about you, brother mine?" he says in a tired, sad voice...