Eight: So Many Frayed Ends

Eve retreated from the building with a tight smirk on her face that didn't fade until she opened the door to her car. She looked at herself in the mirror and her bangs hid most of her face. Her chocolate brown hair was draped over her shoulders instead of up in a high pony tail. She enjoyed the sight of her hair. She knew it was beautiful.

Her green eyes examined herself and she appreciated getting all her acne problems out when she was a teen. It'd be embarrassing at her age to have it. She quit ogling herself in the mirror as she slid the key into the ignition.

It purred to life and she drove home, content that she had accomplished her task. Now Mycroft had to recruit him so they could find the one who set off that bomb. Hopefully, he would do it in a way that would separate Sexy from him, and Sexy would be all hers…

It was five minutes until she was through the door to her home, and she breathed in the familiar air as her cat circled her legs, meowing for food. She smiled as she knelt and scratched his ears. He purred as he followed her to the kitchen where she opened a can and plopped it in front of him.

But there was a knock at the door as she was going upstairs. She opened it cautiously as she found someone she didn't expect tonight, "I thought I had the night off," she complained.

"You do, but we wanted to give something to you," the Elder spoke and there was a woman behind him. She had cute and short hair and she was beautifully curved as Eve took her in.

"Who is this?" she asked, her breath almost stolen from the sight of her.

"The woman you will protect from John Watson. The woman who will be living with you now. Mary, this is Eve, Eve this is Mary. No catfights," he warned and shoved Mary through the door. She had a duffle bag on her shoulder, because she knew the Elders would come for her at some point.

She had already texted Sherlock that she wouldn't be in the same place. Eve closed the door as Mary stood awkwardly, "Sorry for intruding," her cheeks burned as she looked Eve over. She was pretty and Mary knew Eve had a personality that wouldn't fail her, or else the Elders wouldn't have put her here.

"You're not, actually. Make yourself at home. I've got an extra bedroom upstairs," she explained. She could tell she was going to like Mary. She took one last look as the blond walked upstairs. The jeans didn't help the fact that she had a nice… everything.

When Mary came back down, Eve was in the kitchen, making the food she had to eat now. She hadn't eaten in a very long time. She asked if Mary needed any, she didn't. "Okay, um, you can watch telly if you like," Eve suggested.

"No," she sunk into the kitchen chair, "I'm good," she rubbed her stomach out of habit and Eve noticed it.

"You're pregnant," it wasn't a question, but Mary nodded. "John's I assume," she guessed and Mary nodded again, wishing she didn't have to avoid John. But if this works the way the Elders and Eve had planned, John would have a broken heart and Mary couldn't see that. She didn't mind the thought of Sherlock being broken, though. In fact, she looked forward to it.

"I did love him, you know," she said, almost having tears as Eve munched on her sandwich. "I still do, not as much, but John is hard to get out," she admitted.

"He was attractive, but so was his lover," Eve hummed. Mary looked disgusted for a moment, "No, never mind. Sherlock is totally ugly," she corrected, feeling like she had to help Mary, like a best friend would.

Mary giggled, "No, it's fine. I agree, that man has looks, but I still don't understand what he has that I don't," she admitted.

"He's an ass," Eve suggested. Mary laughed and shook her head.

"That must be it, yeah," she smiled. Then it was on to a different subject that Mary couldn't help but bring up, "You know, if this potion would have killed John, I wouldn't have agreed to let you do that."

"And why not?" Eve asked, truly puzzled as to why she wanted John alive.

"Just because he broke my heart, doesn't mean I want him dead," she explained. "Though, I do regret that the potion will have side effects," she admitted.

"Who cares? If anything, you have me now," she offered, while taking one of Mary's hands. "If he doesn't love you, I will. I know it sounds very, very sudden, but you seem like the kind of person I could get used to," she assured the blond. Mary gaped at her, she had never heard those words come from almost a complete stranger.

She closed her mouth, then opened it again to say, "Thank you." She squeezed Eve's hand as she added, "You seem easy to like as well," she smiled.

Eve let go of Mary's lovely hand, "Not when you see my true self. I'm quite annoying and then other times I'm completely silent," she explained.

Mary just nodded, understanding that this woman probably hadn't had someone living with her before. "The Elders know how to choose the right people, I guess," she said, despite Eve's confession. Eve just smiled, glad she had Mary now.

Sherlock sat by John, Mycroft and Lestrade now gone. Aveen sat in the seat Gregory had left. She swung her feet under it, studying John's face, his heartbeat and his breathing.

Sherlock noticed her looking and almost smiled at her concern. But he didn't, he was too worried about John to do anything else, but look to him. Aveen simply took the other of John's hands in her own, and Sherlock did crack a small smile at that.

He then wondered how that hand would look with a certain… type of metal... on it… Sherlock jumped up, "Aveen, we have an errand to run," he said suddenly. She was confused, but she was dragged out with him and to the street where they called a cab.

She was shoved in as Sherlock was grinning. She had no idea what was going on, but she had a feeling Sherlock had something planned.

Mycroft regretted doing this, but as he went to talk to John, he knew that this had to be done, and that if it wasn't, there'd be hell to pay.

So he approached John's bed as John stirred and asked the worst question he's ever had to ask the soldier. And when John at first protested, he wasn't surprised. But he eventually agreed…

Sherlock returned with a box in his pocket, and he was fingering it as Aveen was smiling so hard she was afraid her lips would split up to her ears.

But when Sherlock was heading back to John, the nurse stopped him, "John Watson, correct?" she asked as he nodded in confusion. "He was already signed out by someone else," she explained and Sherlock was pissed.

But he swallowed the anger, "Okay," he said simply, "thank you," and he grabbed Aveen's hand while they went back to 221B.

o0o0o0o

Sherlock had the phone pressed to his ear, "Well, if you didn't take him, then who did!?" Sherlock shouted at his confused brother.

"Sherlock, I don't know. Did you ever think that maybe he signed himself out. He is a doctor after all," Mycroft suggested.

Sherlock stomped his foot like a child, "No, the nurse said someone else did! Why do you always have to kidnap John?!" he shouted again.

"I swear I did nothing of the sort," wasn't a lie. "Little brother, we will find him. I won't tell you it's okay, but it will be. Hopefully," and Mycroft couldn't take it. He hung up and Sherlock threw his phone across the room.

Aveen's brows knitted together as she stood at his elbow, grabbing him down to face her, "Stop it," she demanded. "Do you really think he'd want you to be such an arse when he's counting on you? Get it together!" she raised her voice, but didn't shout.

Sherlock stood straight up, "Fine." They want him to be emotionless, that's what he'd do. But John being etched into his soul made him let the fire of love burn and he cut out everything else.

He would find John, and whoever took him would pay…

"Perfect," Eve purred into the phone. She hung up on one of her trusted accomplices.

"I'm guessing John's gone, then," Mary looked to the happy brunette. Eve nodded once, slowly and her smile spread to a grin.

"Sherlock will pay for murdering him, and I will not kill Watson, but Sexy will die of the heartbrake I am suffering," she admitted.

"For a mastermind, you admit emotions very freely. Quite the opposite of Sherlock," she pointed out. "And 'Sexy' is the weirdest nickname for an enemy," she stated.

"Feeling aren't something to regret. But they aren't something to surrender to, either. I do love, but I am cautious about it. That is what Sherlock can't do. He loves and doesn't know how to control himself, hence John being missing," she explained. "And yes, it is a weird nickname, but I don't care," she shrugged.

Mary smiled. Knowing John wouldn't be hurt, she could love this plan. She had never thought of revenge on the Holmes, but now that she thought about it, it did sound nice. He did, after all, take John from her, so she was just returning the favor.

Although, it was neither of them that took John. And that was the best part. All it took was exposing Eve and a bomb and John was gone.

You see, Eve was great at everything. She was smart, could hack into anything, could make any size of bomb and she was sexy to top all of that. Mary admitted that she saw Eve as attractive. She had no idea why she felt this way, but she didn't hide it.

Mary didn't see the point in hiding who you fall in love with, which was why she further misunderstood John. She never got why he hid his feelings from Sherlock. Then again, look what happened when they let their feelings run lose…

"Sherlock!" Gregory pounded up the stairs, "I heard about John, I wanted to make sure you didn't ruin anything," Sherlock raised an eyebrow at the DI.

"Why would I ruin something? Just because John is missing doesn't mean I'm going to go crazy."

Greg stared at Sherlock, "But you love him, don't you?" he was confused.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I let it cloud my judgment. I need to find him simply because he was taken, not because he's my lover," Gregory's cheeks burned when Sherlock used that term.

Gregory never thought of putting it that way. Aveen simply ate her food and let Sherlock talk to Gregory and eventually throw him out. Sherlock needed silence. Aveen obliged by finishing, then going to her room and laying in bed, just thinking about life without John.

She couldn't imagine not having him brush her hair, or making her dinner that always tasted amazing. She would be nowhere if John hadn't shown her kindness. She felt she had to do something to help find John, but what could she do?

All she could do was lie here and miss John. It was so easy to have him here, and so hard to believe that he wasn't coming home.

Molly received a text from Lestrade concerning John, and when she read the full message, tears came to her eyes. She texted him back asking if Sherlock was doing anything. And of course he would be, but she had to be sure.

He texted her back saying that Sherlock was on the case of the missing lover. Molly's cheeks were streaked with tears as she finished what she had been doing. She had to finish this and return home to Tom.

Yes, Tom. He was her fiancée and he didn't appreciate the late nights she'd been having at work. But she loved him as much as she could and he loved her more. Or so he said. She wasn't sure anymore, though. He always got jealous when Sherlock was around and he happened to visit her at work.

If he truly loved her, he would trust her enough to not cheat with the detective who had John. But the truth was, not even she could trust herself not to make a move. She loved Sherlock so much, and for so long, she felt she could break at any moment.

But she hadn't, not yet at least. And she wouldn't, not as long as she was loving someone else.

Lestrade texted Mycroft, seeing as the Iceman had texted him before and now Gregory had his number. It was u wasn't it?- GL

I've no idea what you're talking about- MH

U took John…-GL

We can't talk about this over a phone, Gregory. Meet me at the Yard – MH

Fine…- GL Gregory had just relaxed at his flat, but now he had to move, and while he didn't want to, he had to have this conversation with Mycroft. He didn't even know why he accused him of taking John, but it seemed like a good assumption.

But he nonetheless went to his office where Mycroft simply sat, not that that was creepy or anything, no not at all…

Gregory huffed and sat in his chair, deciding to eat another donut. "You really shouldn't eat like that," Mycroft stated.

"Sod off," Lestrade snapped. Then he realized, "Sorry. It's just been hell, and then John's gone and Sherlock's not even stressed about it. By the way, I know it was you. I don't know why or how, but it was you, wasn't it?"

He munched on the donut he finished before Mycroft could explain without giving anything away. "You're not as stupid as Sherly makes you out to be," he admitted. Lestrade beamed.

"You're not as secretive as he makes you out to be, either. I thought you had no emotions," he raised a brow at Mycroft.

He could see the confusion in those soft brown eyes and his green ones smiled at the fact that he confused a Holmes. You may hide things, Mycroft, but Gregory can see them. No one else, but Greg. Do you wonder why? You should.

But Mycroft couldn't read Gregory's face now. He saw the usually things, like what he was doing the last few hours, but he couldn't read that emotion. What was that? It was raw, and right there, in front of Mycroft and he couldn't read it.

He was getting frustrated and Gregory could see that as well. He now had a smug smile playing his lips and Mycroft found himself staring at those curved beauties. Why where they attractive to him? He had only ever felt this once before, and he regretted it last time.

But why does it feel as though this time may be different? Now Gregory was confused at the man who was simply staring at his mouth then his eyes, then his hair. Why was he paying so much attention to detail?

Mycroft was paying so much attention because he was storing Gregory in his 'mind palace'. Although, with this it was more like a mansion, but he used the same methods his little brother did. Or, Sherlock used his methods, whichever.

But Mycroft stored Lestrade and leaned over his desk to speak, but he found his breath denying him air. Instead, he stood, his umbrella hooked on his arm and Gregory was going to let him leave, but his mouth denied him, "Mycroft," he addressed, and the man turned to meet his eyes.

There was a yearning in them now. He wanted Mycroft to stay, but why? Why did he wasn't this man to stay and give him company? Now Mycroft could tell what that emotion was, as Gregory's face was full of it.

Gregory was lonely and he wanted Mycroft to stay. But neither knew why Gregory wanted Mycroft to stay, or why Mycroft sat again, watching as Gregory went back to work, expecting Mycroft to just leave and forget his presence.

But then the man was behind him, leaning over Greg and staring at the screen the DI was staring at. "Um?"

"Just wanted to see why you're ignoring me, and it does seem important," Mycroft admitted as he stood straight up.

Gregory looked up to the man, and his brows rose as he figured out what he was feeling. But he'd only ever felt this for a man once before, and it ended horribly. Then why did he feel as though he didn't give a shit and he wanted to try this?

And suddenly he was on his feet and his arms were around Mycroft's neck and he was kissing him. Mycroft accepted this, knowing this was what the DI was aiming for, and the suited man kissed him back.

But suddenly it stopped and Gregory was afraid. Mycroft simply let him go, and he sat down again, shaking. "Gregory," Mycroft pulled his attention from the monitor as the man was bending over him and their mouths joined again.

Gregory whimpered against Mycroft's lips and he wondered how they were so soft when they didn't look it. Gregory's lips were just as Mycroft had thought, small but don't underestimate them. Mycroft pulled back again, and decided he would admit something, "The reason I never show emotion is because sometimes, they don't like me."

"Emotions don't like anyone," Gregory told him and Mycroft shrugged as he kissed him again. And when Mycroft felt his mobile buzz with what he knew was a text from Sherlock, he looked at the screen. "Sherlock?" Greg asked, and Mycroft nodded.

"I should get back to work anyway. Maybe I can talk to you over lunch tomorrow," he had small smile on his lips now.

Gregory nodded, "That'd be nice," he admitted. Now he couldn't really judge Sherlock and John for the relationship they had. Though, he never really had. He had simply put it to the side because he needed Sherlock for cases.

But he felt that his feelings were different from those two. He felt as though he was falling in love again, and that his recent divorce would be the last of broken hearts. But he also knew that if after this there was grief, he would finally break.

Mycroft gave his DI a quick kiss and left, his umbrella swinging beside him and many people gave him funny looks at the fact that he had spent so much time in Greg's office, but he simply let the goldfish swim past him and he paid no attention to them.

Sally had seen Mycroft walk out and when she walked into Gregory's office, she found him smiling and humming as he worked. "Happy, I see?"

"Very," Greg beamed and Sally was going to ask why. But he said, "Don't ask," he shook his head once and went back to the monitor that consumed him before.

Sally nodded, "Right. Glad to see you happy," she said and then plopped a file on his desk, saying that it was the solution to the current case.

"We need to find him, Mycroft," the mop of curls complained to his elder.

"Don't you think I am trying?" he looked to Sherlock. Sherlock simply waved his hands in dismissal.

"Do you have any leads as to who could have done this? I must admit, that I am very scattered and my mind is having trouble comprehending that he's gone," he admitted.

"Dearest brother," Sherlock glared at his brother, "I assure you that I am trying to get him back. But no, I'm not sure who would have done this. What about your… 'friends'?" he asked, knowing Aveen was somewhere listening.

"'Friends'? Oh, I don't know. Mary did warn me about getting involved, but I never listen to warnings, everyone should know that," he steepled his hands under his chin and paced, wondering if Mary was connected to this. Mycroft was helping. Very slightly, though.

Mary had even texted him, saying she was moving from her original spot. But she had assured him she'd be safe, and that, he didn't question. He knew Mary was capable of taking care of herself. But would she do this? To get back at Sherlock? But for-… Sherlock got it. Though he never understood the need for revenge, it sounded like the only option.

But why now? She had the chance to do it before? Why take John as well? shouldn't she just get Sherlock? He paced slower, his mind needing his strength for this. Mycroft saw the change in the speed of his pacing and decided he was deep in thought.

So Mycroft decided to check on Aveen. Sherlock didn't notice when he left him in the main room, and Mycroft climbed the stairs.

He peaked through the ajar door, and he found Aveen curled into herself in the middle of what used to be John's bed. She whimpered and shot straight up. She had fallen asleep, but now she was awake and there were tears on her face.

Mycroft had no idea what to do. But then he heard Sherlock's bare feet padding on the carpet up the stairs and to Aveen's room. He pushed in the door past Mycroft and brought Aveen into his arms. He glared at Mycroft as if it was his fault, but his older brother only studied Aveen further.

She had been having a nightmare, but what about? Could it have been John? Mycroft didn't know. So he simply left. He closed the front door behind himself and was encased in the warm weather they'd been having lately. He also couldn't help the guilt welling because John wasn't there for his family.

Ugh, sunshine. It's too distracting, he decided and he called a car. Anthea sat in it already and she smiled when he slid in the seat beside her.

Sherlock held Aveen close to his chest as her tears soaked his night shirt that he had changed into, with no intent of leaving the flat. Now he definitely wasn't leaving. Just because he couldn't show his motion doesn't mean he can't have them.

Aveen cuddled into Sherlock, even when the tears had stopped, and he kept stroking her hair, making sure she was one trembling, "Okay?" he asked, not asking for her to talk about it. He knew what it was like to wake up from bad dreams that you can't speak of ever again.

She nodded, her eyes red and puffy and her lips trembling a little, but she had no tears. Sherlock put a hand to her cheek. She leaned into this touch and Sherlock gave her a quick kiss to the forehead and she smiled.

"Hungry?" he asked as he pulled himself from the bed. She nodded and stood beside him, reaching past his hips now. She already grew? Well, that's new.

He pushed himself to move and down the stairs they went where Sherlock made her a sandwich and some tea for the both of them. Her hair scattered everywhere made him grab the brush from the counter.

As he brushed out the knots, he was careful, as he knew John was. Oh, John… why did you have to be taken? Sherlock didn't blame John, but he hated whoever had taken him. They must be accompanying the one who poisoned him, because no one would have known to take him at that time.

Then again, they could be someone who just took the chance and now he's stuck somewhere, being fought over. Sherlock smiled, he'd fight for his lover if it came down to it. As a matter of fact, he had. He was always fighting for John.

He ran his fingers through Aveen's raven hair and was reminded of how John had done so. God, if he didn't find John, he would never be the same person again. She popped the last of the sandwich in her mouth and turned to look at Sherlock, who had now put the brush on the table.

She smiled and he returned what he could attempt of a small smile. She jumped from the chair and hugged Sherlock's waist. She knew what he was feeling, to an extent. She knew what it was like to feel lost without someone you need.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around her as best he could and she squeezed. "I believe in you," she assured.

"I don't," he sighed, "but thanks," he said. She snuggled into his stomach and he pet her hair as they just stood there, wondering who was going to move first. And she did, running off to get a shower and sleep again.

Her dreams were the only place she was perfectly content. Sherlock was lying on the couch when she came back out, holding the brush he had used earlier, "Could you…?" she didn't even have to finish.

He took her with open arms and she sat in his lap while her hair dripped onto his sleep pants, and he didn't care. It reminded him that no tears would be shed. If her hair was crying, he wouldn't…

So there you have it, John's missing and Sherlock isn't going crazy, but in fact the opposite. But how long will that last? Honestly, not even I know... but, reviews?