A/N: Disclaimer and all that see Chapter One.
Chapter Seven: Brothers
"Our siblings push buttons that cast us in roles we felt sure we had let go of long ago - the baby, the peacekeeper, the caretaker, the avoider... It doesn't seem to matter how much time has elapsed or how far we've travelled." (Jane Mersky Leder)
One could easily underestimate Dr. Watson. Normal people, at last. They wouldn't believe he's been a soldier and he's been to war. He has such a decent, loyal face; with his big puppy eyes, you'd think he could never harm anyone.
I didn't believe that, not one second. If you take a closer look at him, behind those lovely eyes and the short haircut, John Watson is a man who likes physical danger.
He is an interesting man, this doctor.
I thought I had figured him out perfectly, but then those two fools blew up the pool and everything changed.
I was there, of course. I never lied when I said I was concerned about Sherlock. I truly am. He hasn't really figured out his path in life, still. That's the one point, the only point, we are totally different in. Sadly, it's a very worrying point. I cannot allow him to change sides. I would need to chase him down if he would, and I'd rather not do that. Mother wouldn't be happy about it.
He knows I am watching every step he takes and he hates it. Of course he does. He's so arrogant, believing he can solve everything alone, not realising he will never be able to solve the most dangerous case on his own: himself.
But, well, on the other hand, I think he likes to keep me occupied. I still suspect he just had an addiction to cocaine because he knew it would anger me.
It did anger me.
Just like it angered me they blew up the pool without even getting a single grip on Moriarty. Two men, one of them highly intelligent, the other a proper soldier. I couldn't believe they let him escape. But then, there was the change. The change in the dynamic between them. In the atmosphere. In the eyes of both of them.
Something had happened at the pool, something that left Sherlock in question and doubt, and Dr. Watson in simple shock.
It was rather easy to figure it out.
Though I was joking as I asked Dr. Watson if I could expect a happy announcement by the end of the week. Sherlock and I are equal in that, as well. Love has never really touched our minds. I know there are a lot of beautiful women working under me, but I never pay them any attention. At least, not because they are beautiful. To me, love is mostly a waste of time and resources. And it's been the same for Sherlock.
Until they blew up the pool.
I almost smile when I think about how many headaches Sherlock has probably had before he figured it out, but then again, it's not a point you should be smiling on. Not because it would hurt his feelings – I am beyond of worrying for that -, but because it's a dangerous state.
Sherlock is so… uncontrolled, even if all the others might think different. I know exactly how his mind works, how it rushes, pushes, rebels at barricades… He's a dangerous man when he's thinking, because he is totally out of control.
I believed Dr. Watson could be the one controlling his temper a little and it worked fair enough until he became the topic of Sherlock's thoughts.
I know he has begun the nasty habit of taking junkies to his flat again and I believe he's less than a step away from buying cocaine again, as well.
And I believe that Dr. Watson has freaked out absolutely as he had realised he was into him.
As I said, he enjoys physical danger, our good Watson, but when it comes to emotions, he likes them soft and comfortable.
Poor Dr. Watson. Army men are usually a little homophobe, and even though his sister is a lesbian, he surely never considered himself gay. He wishes normality for his family life, a wife, a house, children, probably even a dog.
And then – boom! – a pool explodes and his wishes fall down to pieces.
I don't know if he'll give in to this insight. I don't know if Sherlock will. But I know for sure that if they don't, we'll have a greater problem then a blown-up pool and a criminal mastermind on his run. We'll have a Sherlock Holmes out of control and a Dr. Watson who won't be able to keep him on the ground, who'll only push him further.
And yet, I cannot do anything but wait. If I interfere, it will only become worse. And how should I probably interfere?
It's their choice, now. Destruction – or absolution.
(So, last point of view. Let's see if Holmes and Watson are able to find what they seek. Though I need to warn you, the next chapter won't be nice and soft.)