John felt rather awkward entering the place. It was quiet and there was hardly anyone around. He went forward, looking for some sort of secretary. He found one, tapping away at her phone behind a small mahogany desk. She looked up as he approached.
"I'm looking for Mycroft Holmes," John stated, trying to sound like he knew what he was doing, "It's about his little brother, Sherlock."
The woman went back to texting and pointed behind her at a door John hadn't seen. John went around the desk and towards the door. He felt almost like he was going to the principal's office for a brief moment. As they drew near the door, John stopped and turned to S H, who stared down at him with a blank look. John pointed at a nearby seat.
"Stay here," John commanded firmly, "I'll figure everything out for you, ok?"
"Ok, Dr. Watson," S H agreed, sitting down in the seat.
"How'd you know I was a doctor?" John asked curiously.
He could've sworn he saw a smirk flash across S H's face, but when he blinked it was gone.
"Why else would the Detective Inspector need your help?" S H answered.
John rolled his eyes, but smiled softly. He turned to the door and straightened out his back, preparing to rip someone a new…ahem.
"Dr. Watson, to what do I owe the pleasure?" a cool voice called as soon as he stepped in the door.
John stepped forward to see a man with thinning brown hair and cold brown eyes looking at him from behind a large, magnificent oak desk. John strode forward and slammed his hands on the desk (sorry, desk, you really are lovely).
"How could you abandon him like that?" John shouted, "He's lost out there! He has no idea what he's doing!"
"I assumed the genius mind he was programmed with would kick in," Holmes answered coldly, "Clearly it did, since it found you."
"Seriously? That's all you have?" John asked incredulously, "You created him! You should help him and stay by him!"
"I didn't create it!" Holmes snapped, "It was sent to me!"
"So send it back, don't just release him into the wild!" John yelled.
"There was no return address, Dr. Watson," Holmes said calmly, "Or I would have."
"Why? Why couldn't you just take care of him?" John demanded.
"Because it's not my brother!" Holmes burst out.
He paused, taking a calming breath.
"I received it a week ago," Holmes said in a calmer tone, "With this note."
He opened a drawer and pulled out a small square piece of paper, which he handed to John.
"He awakens when someone who loves him touches him," John read out loud.
"I opened the box and saw my brother," Holmes said quietly, "I immediately reached down to check his pulse. It sprang to life and told me it was called SH221Beta. I said it looked exactly like my little brother, who was dead now. It seemed to take this to mean that it was created to look like my brother and be like my brother. But it is not my brother and I never wanted it."
John's hand tightened on the note.
"Him," he stated in a low voice.
"Pardon?" Holmes questioned.
"Him, he's a him," John explained, "You never wanted him. Well, I do."
With that he spun on his heel and marched out of the room.
S H's gears whirled inside him at Dr. Watson's words. Something fleeting ran through him. He tried to catch the corner and hold on to it. It evaded him, dancing slightly out of his reach. He squeezed his eyes shut in concentration, trying to hold the fleeing thing. Then Dr. Watson burst from the office, startling him out of his concentration, and he lost it, the passing thing, probably forever.
"You're really smart, right?" John questioned S H.
S H looked at him with a sneer.
"Yes, I'm really smart," the robot answered.
"Good," John stated, thrusting the note out to him, "Take this and figure out where we're supposed to go."
S H took the note and ran his fingers over it. John waited patiently as S H explored every inch of it. He sprang to life and thrust his arm out to hail a cab. John just followed silently, hoping he wasn't jumping into to something bad, since he was going in feet first.
S H was silent for a long time during the ride. John considered trying to make conversation, but what would he say?
"Why do you call me a him?" the robot buzzed out suddenly.
John jumped slightly and turned to look at the robot's face, which was scrunched up in confusion and frustration.
"Because you're a him," John answered.
"I'm an it," S H retorted.
"Just keep telling yourself that," John sighed, "Maybe you'll believe it."
S H fell silent once again. John stared out the window, watching as the buildings flew past.
"Thank you for your concern," S H suddenly said into the air.
John's head whipped around in surprise. It was the most human S H's voice had sounded in the hour or so that John had known him. He studied S H's face closely. It was perfect; too perfect. He didn't have any wrinkles or scars or anything. It was perfectly smooth and pale. Though his cheek bones protruded rather sharply from his face and his face was scrunched together in concentration.
His fingertips were pressed together immediately under his chin in a prayer style pose and John couldn't help but look at the long, spider-like hands. They looked perfect for playing the piano or maybe the violin. John's mother had played the violin for him when he was little. He supposed that's why he loved hearing violin music so much. He wondered if S H could play the violin or any-
"Yes," S H's voice snapped John out of his pondering.
"Sorry?" John questioned.
"Yes, I can play the violin," S H said, his head jerking to the left so his eyes could meet John's, "That is what you were wondering, is it not?"
"Yes, but how did you-."
"I've learned with Sherlock, you just have to believe."
The corner of John's lips quirked up slightly.
"My mum played," he said.
"Ah, I thought perhaps your father," S H said, "Considering you looked at a male's hands as such."
"Your hands don't look very manly," John pointed out.
S H wrinkled his nose at him and John just laughed. He laughed too hard for the situation, but it was the first time in a long time that he had laughed so genuinely. He wiped at his eyes and forced his laughter down, though his mouth was turned up in a wide grin. He turned to look at S H again, who was looking at him curiously with a tiny smile spread slightly over his perfect face. John's heart beat jumped up a couple notches and he decided he quite liked S H's smiling face in comparison to his normal stoic one.
"We're 'ere," said a gruff voice from the front of the cab.
John jumped a little, having forgotten there was anyone else in the cab with them.
"Thank you," John muttered as he slid out of the door behind S H.
He pulled out a couple of bills and handed them over, as he looked around for where the robot had gone off to. He spotted the shiny, curly hair some distance off. The head attached to the hair was turned up, looking at an old, run-down brick building. John jogged the short distance to catch up as the wind picked up. When he drew to a stop next to S H, the man turned to him and his silvery hair whipped around in the wind. Wow, he looks so beautiful, John thought as the robot's mouth parted to say something. He blushed furiously and looked away.
"Dammit," he mumbled.