Oh my gosh, the response from last chapter is amazing.
Home Invasion and this story are now on the same chapters, 19. When I originally sought out to make a multi-chapter story I honestly didn't think , a) it would be this long and b) the response would be so significant. I wish I could give all of you cookies, and maybe kisses too.
I love people.
Okay so three things.
1. Fair warning: They are not going to get through all the rules in this visit.
2. I'm trying to keep Mycroft in cannon, and I'm doing that through manipulation. I really hope that his is okay with everyone.
3. This chapter is long. I know most of you won't complain, at least I hope not.
Also, I wrote Mycroft with the impression that he knows the two of them are communicating but doesn't say anything, he just gets impatient, you'll see.
Anyway, here we go.
Peace&Love
Sophie
Previously,
"Are you at his office?" Sherlock's thoughts are panicking as the list of the places John could be grows shorter. John sighs, resisting the urge to shake his head in response. He sends another wave of brief unhappiness, indicating his no. "Where the bloody hell are you?" John can see, through Sherlock's thoughts, the detective literally pacing on some street.
John exhales with resignation.
"Rule 1?" Mycroft encourages, the first time he has showed any sign of humanity. This just makes the man more bloody terrifying.
"When I first got the gift, it was strange and new, I didn't know what was happening. I thought I was mad." John starts and Mycroft leans forward slightly, obviously intrigued, "When I finally settled down and realised...my ability, I came up with the rules."
"John, I don't know where you are." John heart wrenches at the confession, Sherlock's thoughts pained with defeat.
John sends a wave a happiness, "Yes you do, just think about it." Along with content.
Meanwhile, Mycroft is nodding in excitement, his eyes following John's lips as the doctor tells the one thing that is so personal, so sacred that only Sherlock's ears have heard. John feels no reservations in resenting the fact that his rules are being coerced out of him, politely maybe, but still forcefully, nonetheless.
"And further yet, you have to realise that I was an aspiring doctor. I am rooted to help people." John explains, "And that brings up to rule one, if I have an opportunity to save a live using my ability, I will, if it doesn't risk exposing myself."
"This is the most important rule and it is the basis for the all the other rules. One that I abide by no matter what." John says firmly, looking right into the politician's eyes with conviction.
Mycroft just stares at the doctor, his face excited but a calm, neutral flows underneath, like the politician is trying to hide his level of interest.
"Why?" Mycroft asks with genuine curiosity.
"It's difficult to explain," John starts "The first few months of my gift, when I wasn't busy trying to get rid of it or hide the fact that I may have been going mad, I saw people dying all the time. Some from misdiagnosis and other from malpractice." John declares, he's never told anyone this before, and yes, the detective knows the rules but he doesn't know the reasoning behind them. Sherlock didn't ask and John didn't find it worth mentioning, the genius just accepted John's morals and moved on.
Now, the elder Holmes is learning so many things about John, the doctor has to resists the urge to shift with nervous movements.
"It wasn't until I started to accept my ability, that I started practicing." John swallows, "My nightly rounds were the best time because no one was around. I went around to the sleeping patients and find out all I could from them, their pain level, where they are really hurt, stuff like that. I would mark on their charts and when the morning doctors would come in they would investigate the discrepancies."
Mycroft raises an eyebrow at John but the doctor ignores it.
"Nobody ever knew it was me. A successful hospital has so much staff that an intern goes unnoticed most of the time." John observes, idly looking out the window as the sedan continues maneuvering throughout London without a destination.
"Are you in his car?" Bing, bing, bing. John resist the urge to smile at Sherlock's deduction, instead silent waves of happiness are sent immediately, and John continues his narrative.
"The rule didn't really get a good footing until I was stationed in the comatose ward." John sighs, remembering the still patients that couldn't bathe themselves or talk to their visiting loved ones. "I knew I could help those people and it wouldn't expose me." John states, "The ward's numbers in patient awakenings skyrocketed the week I was there." The doctor smiles to himself and Mycroft looks...impressed? This surprises John, the elder Holmes is not one to be pegged in cahoots with compassion.
"How?" is Mycroft's one word question, John translates it into, "How did you wake them up?"
"It was a bit clumsy in the beginning, I didn't know what I was doing and I could only do it through touching them, skin to skin." John explains trying to be as vague as possible, realising Mycroft doesn't really know about the tactile connection and John doesn't really want to explain it in further detail or really at all to the politician, some aspects are better kept secret. John continues his narrative without pausing so Mycroft can't interject.
"Is there a destination involved?" John wants to send happiness because Sherlock finally understands but he sends unhappiness for his answer and then follows it with euphoria and excitement. "No, thank god you figured it out."
"The brain, at least the way I see it, is in layers." John resumes, not letting the fact that Sherlock can still possibly find them shine through the doctor's face. "The surface layer is incoherent thoughts. I have to break through the first layer to get to the second and so on." John states and Mycroft nods his head in understanding, with an enthusiastic neutrality. John didn't even know that one could be enthusiastic and neutral at the same time.
"The second layer is where the thoughts lie, it's not hard breaking through the layers, especially not the first one, they are flimsy and offer minimal protection." John remarks, "After the second layer, there are more layers where deeper thoughts lie and other memories surface, as the layers go further down, the memories become more and more personal."
"I have to dig deep to find where the coma patients were hiding." John expresses, "In the deepest part of their brain lies a room of sorts, it's a mental apparition of course, but almost every person has one, including Sherlock, except that man is able to access his room whenever and it's decorated like a throne room."
"His mind palace?" Mycroft asks incredulously.
"His mind palace." John responds and they both share a chuckle, the two of them sharing a moment when tension evaporates and a genuine pleasant experience happens.
John hates it, he craves the tension again.
The chuckles subside and John proceeds, "Anyways, in this room, there is a mental corporeal form of the person, at least when you are in a comatose state there is, and I honestly don't know if it's there all the time. I've only seen it when I've waken people up. I don't pry that deep with conscious people." John remarks, finding it easier and easier to convey his thoughts out loud. It feels strangely good to get all of this off his chest, even though he knows that someday this is going to come back and bite him in the arse.
"So you talk to the mental versions of themselves and they wake up." Mycroft says, trying to understand, but a little confused.
"Kind of, I appear to them in my own sense of apparition. I lead them to the surface of their thoughts and that wakes them up." John states, looking towards the window again, wondering where Sherlock's thoughts are, they've been silent for a while now.
"And it didn't expose you?" Mycroft questions, wringing his hands with fascination.
"At first, the patients would wake up and talk of dreams and memories of a blond man, an angel leading them to consciousness. I got more cautious after that and soon I could erase all memories of my presence." John says with a sense of finality.
John stares at London in silence, slightly distressed by how easy it is to share this with Mycroft, they really need to move onto another rule.
"So rule one is you will save a life, if it doesn't risk exposure." Mycroft clarifies and John just nods, looking at Mycroft with an almost disinterest.
Mycroft hums over the new information for a couple minutes and John alternates between coaxing out Sherlock's thoughts (to no avail, the detective is being silent for some reason, leaving John really alone) and looking out the window, trying to find a location.
"What is Sherlock's brain like?" Mycroft asks suddenly, John looks over to the politician and catalogs the unnecessary hesitancy.
"A lot like yours, his thoughts rapid and incoherent until they slow down." John remarks vaguely, he may be forced to explain his rules and such to the politician but the elder Holmes doesn't need to know everything.
Mycroft nods again in contemplation, his eyes wondering.
"John, I've been so idiotic." John sighs with relief and chuckles lightly as Mycroft stares bewildered at the doctor. John is a little confused at Sherlock's thought, until he sees the detective running down the familiar Baker Street and into the flat, images of the stairs and then John's computer flash in the doctor's mind.
A shrill ring echoes the car. Mycroft digs his mobile out and glares at the screen before ignoring the call.
"Aha, got you now." Sherlock's thoughts are victorious and John can only deduce that the detective just remembered the GPS tracker program.
"I work for the British Government, John. Do you really think I would be traceable by my mobile." Mycroft says and John really wonders if the politician can't read his mind, the thought truly scary.
"Yes, but my mobile isn't." John contemplates saying this out loud, but he definitely doesn't want Mycroft to realise John still had his mobile.
"It doesn't matter, there is a GPS jammer in the car." John face falls, of course there is, of course Mycroft thought ahead. John sends a wave of unhappiness to the detective. "No, you didn't find us, the GPS is fake." John can feel Sherlock's thoughts fall into contemplation again.
"The GPS isn't working, you aren't even on the map." John sends a wave of happiness, "Yes, I'm untraceable."
Anger courses through the detective as his thoughts go silent once again, John only comforted by the lilac and honey duo. The doctor sends a wave of contentment to the detective. "I'm not hurt, Mycroft and I are just chatting, I'll be home soon." The doctor hopes he can convey that much, he doesn't believe that Mycroft is going to cause him harm anymore, the politician is just curious.
At least, John hopes this is the case.
"Are you two done communicating?" Mycroft's impatience shines, although, strangely, the politician doesn't ask how they are actually communicating.
John would have given an indignant huff but Mycroft's tone held a distinct authority that made John sheepishly smiled and shrugged, like a bloody school girl being caught, and that thought did get an resentful internal huff.
"Okay, moving on, if that's Rule 1, what is Rule two?" Mycroft asks, his legs crossing and his hands resting gently upon them, like the last few minutes of Sherlock almost finding them didn't happen. John sees no reason not to continue, even though he wishes their chat would end.
"Rule 2," John snorts, "is always have a pair of headphones ready."
Mycroft's look of confusion is priceless, and John doesn't speak until the politician is forced to ask a, "Why?"
"An aspect of my ability is hearing people's thoughts all the time, 24 hours a day. The first layer, where their thoughts are incoherent, they are also nondescript, jumbled. A white noise if you will." John states, "Music blocks it out, hence 'always have a pair of headphones'."
"Can you hear it right now?" Mycroft asks, drumming his fingers on his knee in thought.
"Off and on, depending on where we are at in the city." John answers, leaning back into the seat.
"Why would that matter?" Mycroft questions, leaning forward, his interest peaked again. The doctor can't help but notice the familiarities between the two brothers, they are reacting in almost the same way, all the way down to their body language.
"When I'm within a certain range of Sherlock, the white noise disappears." John answers, not really wanted to divulge the information, but he might as well keep going. "The range gets greater each day."
"Is that why you are with him?" The question is blurted and Mycroft remains neutral.
"No. Definitely not." John cries, taken aback, moderately offended at Mycroft's question. John cross his arms again and looks out the window, disgusted with the elder brother.
"Then why are you?" Mycroft asks, his tone irreproachable.
John gapes and then shakes his head, sending a wave of annoyance into Sherlock, if John is going to have to suffer through this bizarre brotherly ritual, Sherlock will be forced to experience it too, but the detective remains silent and even that vexes the doctor who has to go through this alone.
"I'm not going there with you Mycroft, that's between Sherlock and myself and there are certain things that the British Government does not need to know." John states firmly, his body dismissive.
They sit in silence, Mycroft staring with gleaming eyes and scrutinising gazes. John vaguely realises the car slowing down as the buildings of London grow taller in height.
"Rule 3?" Mycroft prods after a while and John sighs, once again.
"I don't pry into peoples' mind, ever, unless it involves Rule 1 or self-preservation." John says flatly, not looking at the politician. "I guess I should add, 'Unless within the parameters of a harmless experiment." John pronounces, knowing full well that this rule has been broken several times during experiments.
"Rules are meant to be amended to." John tells himself guiltily, trying to reason the clear breaking of his own rule.
"Experiments?" Mycroft inquires gleefully and John nods timidly. "Show me." The politician commands.
"What?" John gawks.
"Show me, I want to know what the man in the blue jumper is thinking." Mycroft says pointing out the window. John turns his head stupidly and notices the car has stopped, adjacent to a very green park. The man in question, sits upon a bench watching the playground with idle interest, his body somewhat tense.
"Mycroft, I just told you my rule." John exhales, looking between the man on the bench and the austere politician in front of him.
"I want a demonstration, Doctor." Mycroft demands firmly.
"I don't give demonstrations." John replies snidely. There is no way he is going to probe that man's mind. He doesn't know that man, the man has done nothing to John and if anything, going over the doctor's rules has made John more adamant in following them. It is, as they continue down the list, becoming more and more apparent to the doctor that he hasn't thought about the rules in depth for a really long time, and that could be potentially disastrous. As for right now, it only adds to his insistent determination.
"Think of it as an experiment." The doctor and the politician stare at each other for a long time.
"John, if you want me to help you, I need to know what you can do." Mycroft sighs eventually, his face attempting to soften, but John sees the cold calculations behind the elder Holmes's features.
"Help me? Why would I ever need your help?" John asks incredulous, staring at the politician, mimicking the same cold gaze.
"John, I can be your biggest asset, and not to mention without it, you and Sherlock could get into danger one day and I could be mysteriously busy." Mycroft states, his eyes darting lazily, as if the conversation is boring him.
John gawks in bewilderment, his mouth widening and his thoughts running wild.
"Are you seriously manipulating me?" The doctor asks incredulously.
"Is it working?" Mycroft's eyebrow raises and his voice hitches at the end of his question.
"You are so much like your brother." John huffs, chuckling softly.
"I don't take kindly to insults John." The elder Holmes says, rather petulantly and John snorts, the politician's expression only furthering John's statement. "The man in the blue jumper if you please, John." Mycroft adds, displeased.
"Mycroft, this goes against everything I've taught myself to believe in and uphold." John tries to explain, futilely to man who rarely shows compassion.
"That's very noble of you, doctor but I need to see this." Mycroft huffs, the politician becoming slightly annoyed.
"Why?" John asks, flustered.
"I have my reasons." Mycroft adds vaguely. John stares with exasperation. "Why would Mycroft do this?"
"I'm not going to uproot everything that I hold sacred just because you 'have your reasons'." John states angrily, wringing his hands together and his body straightens with anxiety. If there's ever been a moment when John wanted to punch something, it would be this moment and Mycroft's face would be the target.
"I will not explain this to you doctor, either use this gift or commit Sherlock to a life without his brother, his very powerful, very caring brother who is most valuable in your cases." Mycroft states, ultimatum clear.
For a second, John thinks about just getting out of the car, making his life Mycroft-free. It's very tempting, but then he remembers all the times that Mycroft has been there, helping in the shadows, the overlying power resource that has gotten them out of trouble, gotten Sherlock out of trouble.
As much as John doesn't want to admit it, Mycroft is more of a necessity than, John or his detective would have ever thought. So, John releases his anger and tries to calm himself. He basks in Sherlock's silence but comforting lilac/honey for help and it works, soon John is calmer.
But that doesn't mean he is acquiescence, he only obeys Mycroft for the sake of the what if, What if one day Sherlock is in trouble and Mycroft is the only one to help?
"Fine, what do you want to know?" John mutters begrudgingly, his body still tense but the angry shaking has since stopped.
"Everything, What is the man thinking right now?" Mycroft commands with an icy glower. "What is he so cold about? I just agreed to break my rule for no reasons whatsoever." John thinks to himself, with a bitter rage that the telepath once again has to calm himself down from.
Eventually, John, with hesitance and resentment, find the man's senses. The smell of bacon floats through John's mind as coffee sits upon his mental taste buds. The doctor delves deeper and finds the man's thoughts.
Images of a little boy fill John's mind and the doctor automatically notices the same boy on the swings. "He's thinking about his boy, he isn't suppose to be watching him today but his ex-wife is having her baby. The little boy has blond hair, brown eyes, a bit of freckles on his cheeks. He's over by the swings." John mutters absentmindedly.
"A little more if you please, John." Mycroft states and John huffs, suddenly very annoyed that Sherlock has left him alone in this situation, the least the detective could do is keep his thoughts off mute. John focuses, the thoughts are of the boy, nothing else.
"There's nothing, that's it." John tells Mycroft who doesn't move.
"Try. Harder." Mycroft demands, shooting icy daggers at the doctor.
John resist the urge to crumple under the gaze, John straightens his body and attempts to find something to please Mycroft.
"Too bad Sherlock isn't here, he would have an experiment that could give Mycroft what he wants." John thinks acidly and sends another wave of irritation to the detective for good measure.
Experiment? The word gets John thinking.
The doctor doesn't know why he did it, he should be under every sense of restriction, limitation. Especially if Mycroft is doing the commanding, but John suddenly feels the necessity to test a theory, an experiment. Very subtly, John sends a wave of very light and fluffy calmness into the man, trying to coax out memories associated with the emotion. John witnesses the man relax and his mind brings memories to the forefront. The experiment is a success but John doesn't feel victorious like he usually does, he feels kind of dirty and he contemplates making stuff up and feeding it to Mycroft, just get on with the chat, and not break his rule.
"John, what else is there?" The demanding and threatening voice getting slightly tiresome, but John decides to placate the politician, even though Mycroft doesn't deserve it. The doctor sends different feelings to coax different memories. John sends anxiety into the man and quickly the man reacts, sitting up straight and looking around. Images of a desk, blue-sleeved hands fly around, organising the pencils and papers, the memories flashing through John like a movie and the doctor watches as the memories play out.
"He's at work, it is earlier today based on the jumper he's wearing, his desk is clean but it's full of papers, I can't read them." John recites, closing his eyes to focus.
"Go on," Mycroft encourages, and if John had his eyes open, he would have seen Mycroft lean so far forward in interest that any movement would send the politician to the floor of the backseat.
"He's nervous, looking over his shoulder constantly," John continues, "He is turning on his computer, a CD case in his hand. He's looking at it, he's very fidgety. Someone coughs from behind and the man turns, he leaves the computer and puts the disc in his pocket while grabbing his coat." John finishes, he can't take anymore. As the images continued, the man's anxiety level grows and it is becoming painful for the doctor, and John can't even imagine what the jumper-clad man is feeling. Besides, John knows an attack in the making and if the doctor continues, soon his nose will be bloody and his brain will short with pain and blackouts.
Plus, isn't this what he feared, using his gift to hurt people. Mycroft has brought one of John's worst fears into light. The future is so much closer than the doctor would have ever thought.
John, guiltily, sends a feeling of calm and backs out of the man's brain enthusiastically.
He opens his eyes to see Mycroft texting on his mobile. John becomes annoyed that Mycroft asked for a demonstration just to ignore it.
John leans back into the leather seat, crossing his arms with irritation. "Why would Mycroft ask for a demonstration to just text on his mobile the entire time?" John ask himself, feeling something strange is going on.
A sudden thought hits the telepath.
"Who is that man? What do you want with him?" John asks, his eyes narrowing.
"I'm afraid," Mycroft starts, looking up from his mobile into the angry doctor's eyes, "it's classified."
John's mind explodes and he sends thoughts of anger into Sherlock subconsciously.
"Classified?" John seethes, "Are you bloody kidding me?"
"You were very helpful, John." Mycroft says and the car lurches forward, starting their trek around London again. John can't even see straight.
"You used me." A statement, a fact, a very troubling and angering one. John looks back out the window to the fading playground, just as they turn the corner, soldier sees suited agents converging upon the grassy area, headed right for the man.
John almost shatters in guilt. Not only did Mycroft use him, but that man is now under the arrest of the British Government and Mycroft himself.
"I'm sorry John, it was my last resort, the man has been...elusive. We haven't been able to get him." Mycroft deadpans and John seethes. Anger at being manipulated once again.
"He had a kid, Mycroft." John states, pinching the bridge of his nose, a normal, very stressed related headache forming, probably just to add to John's anger.
"And what is on that CD will put many more kids at risk." Mycroft bites back with a uncharacteristic sneer.
John stares agape at the man, at the underlying compassionate thought or at the fact that Mycroft snapped at him, John doesn't know.
"A HA!" Sherlock's thoughts scream suddenly and John winces slightly but quickly regains his anger and fury, whilst he sends a wave of confusion to the detective.
Before John can yell appropriately at the politician, the shrill of Mycroft's mobile interrupts the doctor. The elder Holmes digs his phone out once again and answers the call.
John watches, seething silently, as Mycroft barely has a conversation.
"Holmes." Mycroft answers and listens silently.
"Yes sir." Mycroft says mere thirty seconds later and hangs up the mobile. Once the call disconnects, Mycroft sends out a text message and then pockets his mobile and gives John his attention.
The doctor glares in disgust, all sense of compliance gone, regardless of the elder Holmes's threats of never helping the detective ever again, John is not some puppet for Mycroft.
"I'm afraid we are going to have to cut this chat sort, John." Mycroft says matter of fact and John is surprised, he half expected the politician to talk some bollocks about how John help is for the greater good, trying to get John to see the politician's side of things.
Mycroft doesn't even bother, knowing full well that John's mind is going to change and the doctor feels strongly about it.
And yet, Mycroft put John in the situation in the first place. This thought fuels John's disgust and the doctor spends the rest of the car ride in silence, not even looking at the elder Holmes, staring out the window as the streets become more and more familiar as they get closer to Baker Street.
"John-" Mycroft starts finally, as the car pulls onto Baker Street.
"I'm not doing that again Mycroft. I'm not some government pet that bends to your every whim and spies on people. Even if it is for the greater good." John doesn't shout, but his tone is angry and firm.
"I'm sorry to hear that John, you have proven to be very beneficial." Mycroft states as John begins gripping for the door handle as the sedan stops outside 221B.
"Mycroft!" John hisses.
"John."
"Very well, This is a one time thing then." Mycroft offers, his face finally showing a sign of accommodation and if John wasn't so hell bent on getting out the car and away from the aggravating politician and the aggravating day, the doctor would have commented on it. Instead, John bolts from the car and heads towards the flat door.
The whir of the car window descending makes John stop and turn around slowly.
Another thought comes to John. Mycroft is strangely accepting now, what is different?
"You were never going to keep your..services from Sherlock, were you?" John asks, looking at Mycroft through the window, he sighs in resignation.
"Of course not, I'm afraid I lied," Mycroft pronounces, "A calculated guess that you needed motivation, John." On a normal day, John would have huffed in anger, or stomped his foot, the doctor might have even yelled insults and obscenities. This, however, isn't a normal day. Acid experiments to kidnappings to being coerced into demonstrating his gift, the most personal thing John has, being forced onto an unsuspecting man to being dropped off at his flat like nothing happened. This is definitely not a normal day by any means. So for the sake of John's sanity he does nothing.
"Oh and John I will be wanting to hear about the rest of your rules. If I knew them, maybe I wouldn't break them...accidentally." Mycroft smirks, the first sign of true danger that John has ever seen in the elder Holmes.
"The bollocks of this man." John hears the whir of the window again and turns just in time to see the sedan driving away, the sound of the engine startling John.
John breathes deep in relief, almost collapsing from the suddenness of the emotions, as the sedan drives down the street and turns the corner, disappearing from John's view.
John doesn't know if he can survive another chat.