AN: Just want to say.. thanks for the reviews! And don't worry, it should, hopefully, begin to get more obvious...
3
The eerie silence of the old abandoned warehouse was broken, as John cursed heatedly at a crate he had just walked into. He paused, glancing around. The crates stood within the shadows, looming high above him, covered in dust. And no-one was in sight. Trust Mycroft to pick somewhere dramatic, he thought dryly as he watched the shadows carefully. He knew the other man lurked somewhere within its holds, analysing his every move.
"You can be rather peculiar at times…" Mycroft emerged from the shadows, clutching his umbrella beneath his arm.
"And you can be… annoying…" Mycroft smirked.
"Annoying, really? I'd never have known. I'm sure that Sherlock would have been a bit more… imaginative," He studied John, and then suddenly frowned, "That's why you called, is it not? What has he done now?"
"I, uh, don't know…"
"And you arranged –"
"You picked here…"
"As I was saying, you arranged this meeting to discuss him, due to the fact that you don't know what he's gone and done? Explain." He asked curiously, leaning against the umbrella.
"Well, he's acting different, well, not his normal self… He couldn't even tell me where he went, which is strange, as he always knows where he's going… and that he was there because he was bored…"
"I see," He walked closer to where John stood, smirking, "Are you sure he didn't just go out and have… some fun?"
"W-what?" John bit back his surprise. Some fun? What a way to put it… "No, I don't think so… It didn't, occur to me that he'd be into that…"
"Nor did I… But you never know with him." They stood there, staring at each other, amused. "Why did you call me 'Sarah' again?" The smile on Mycroft's face vanished, replaced with a frown.
"Oh, I… Didn't want him to know I called you…" John smiled.
"Right."
"And you know what he's like when you're involved…"
"Ah yes… He can be rather stubborn and childish…"
"Exactly… We'd never get anywhere with him… So I thought it would be easier if he didn't know…"
"Betraying his trust? How peculiar…"
"I'm not betraying him! Just… looking for answers…"
"Yes of course… That's why you wanted me here," Mycroft tapped impatiently on the umbrella's handle, frowning. "However, I am unable to help. Where did he go during the early hours of this morning? That's a question left only for my brother to answer…"
"You can't tell me anything? Nothing at all?"
"I do not know everything, Dr Watson, there are things which should be kept secret," He noted the frown on John's face, "He managed to evade the surveillance I placed on him, he didn't want to be watched. Otherwise, I would have the answer by now. Are we done?"
"No! I mean, I don't know what to do. What -"
"- if it happens again? Follow him." Mycroft interrupted, turning around to face the darkness.
"Follow him… That's all?" John glared after the other man, annoyed with his blunt answers.
"Yes, Dr Watson. Follow him. Just don't let him see you…"
And with that, he was gone, leaving John alone in the warehouse, annoyed. Don't let him see you? Oh, that would easy… Thanks a lot Mycroft… He thought sarcastically. Sighing, he made his way home.
After John had stated that he was off to see Sarah, Sherlock thought it was safe to move back into the living room, where he'd be alone, away from John's questioning glares. So he sat there, bored, flicking through every single channel of the television. How they called it 'entertainment' he'd never know. Sighing, he threw the remote to the side, and sat back.
"Bored…" He whispered, pulling his legs up to his chest. But he wouldn't let boredom overpower him, not again… He couldn't… Instead, he turned to face the skull, which he had finally found after Mrs Hudson tried to hide it, again.
"I don't know what to do," He admitted quietly, as if he was afraid someone would hear him confess to a skull. "Everything – everything's gone wrong… I didn't think I'd go that far… I just couldn't control it… But-" But I enjoyed it, every last bit… Everything, he thought, grimacing at the memories. Why wouldn't it let itself be deleted? Closing his eyes, he tried to blank everything out.
Not long afterwards, he awoke to floorboards creaking. Sitting up, he frowned at John, who sat opposite him, soaked.
"You're early." John sighed.
"It seemed she… had other plans for later on…" John carefully worded the sentence; he couldn't let Sherlock know about his meeting.
"Oh," The cold grey eyes bore into him, trying to read him. "You're wet too."
"Obviously… I couldn't find any taxis," He couldn't, that was true. But that was because taxis didn't go near old, abandoned warehouses… How nice of Mycroft to not offer him a lift… "Sherlock…"
"So you walked in the rain… How was Sarah then?"
"Annoy- I mean, fine. Sarah was fine… Sherlock?" That was close…
"Hmm," Sherlock sat back, hands forming a tent, "So where did you meet up exactly? An old… warehouse?"
"No…?" Shit…
"Not very romantic… especially with all the dust… No perfume too! How - strange…" A small smile began to form on Sherlock's face. He knows… he bloody knows!
"It wasn't a date… Just met up - with her…"
"Right," Sherlock drawled out the words, "So the fact that my persistent brothers' scent surrounds you," shit, "doesn't mean a thing? Let me guess, he told you to follow me…"
"I can e-"
"Wrong… You can't hide things from me, John… I'll work it out… Always…"
"You can speak, Sherlock, because I to you can do the same, even if it'll take me a while longer." From where he was sitting, he could see Sherlock pale. Good… We're getting somewhere.
"John…"
"If you tell me what you did, it would be easier… for both of us…" John stated clearly, trying to see behind the walls.
"No. I… Night, John." Sherlock stood, and walked out of the room, avoiding the worried look from John. He didn't turn back to face him, he couldn't. I can't do anything… he thought, whilst trudging up the stairs to his room.
Alone, again, John sat back, suddenly exhausted. From doing nothing all day, to walking half of London back and forth for literally nothing, he couldn't blame it. He deserved a rest, and with Sherlock's moody behaviour he knew that the violin would probably be left alone. And that the sleep he'd lost could finally be gained. He closed his eyes, drifting towards sleep, trying to ignore the questions that had been left unanswered. What did he do? What? He needed to find out…
Ring, ring
What was that? He opened his eyes hastily, glaring at the interruption, Sherlock's phone…He picked up the abandoned item, and read the caller: Lestrade… What could he possibly want? Accepting it, he yawned.
"Sherlock, its urgent…" The voice boomed through the speakers.
"Its John…"
"Oh… Well, there's been a murder. Grab your coats and get here now, both of you!"
"Ok… See you in a bit…"
Great… When can I ever get a rest