Erm, sorry guys for not updating. I just ignored this fic for I don't know many months already. Geez I love you guys, I'm updating because when I looked back at my follows I was like 'WTF?' 44 follows?
A huge shout-out to Pick me as your beta for helping and inspiring me to continue this story! XP
Warning: Normally John's chapters won't have cursing, but this chapter has some parts with strong language.
John woke up to the rumbling sound of unwelcomed footsteps below the flat and Mrs Hudson's protests.
Danger was coursing through John's mind. He had to get his kid to safety. Where was he, where was Sherlock? He panicked as the echoes of footsteps grew louder. John scrambled out of the bed and was about to teleport before Sherlock's door was thrown wide open.
Or kicked open. John flinched as the door made impact with the wall.
"Turn around and put your hands on your head, Mr Watson."
"Wha-"
John froze under the point-blank range of the first assailant's Sig Sauer P226R and reluctantly put both of his hands behind his head. He yelped when another guy forcefully held both his wrists together and shoved him out the door.
The soldier's instincts were making him want to fight back but he stopped himself when he was half tossed into the living room where the epicentre for this chaos seemed to originate. Mrs. Hudson was sobbing on the couch he was sitting in hours ago, "John, oh John I tried to stop them..."
"It's okay Mrs Hudson, don't cry," said John as he walked over to her, ignoring the protests of the intruders.
He sent a wave of empathy over her which made her suddenly calm down, then turned to look at the couple of armed imposing figures and sent a wave of Type 1 Disappointment over them. He smirked, satisfied, as most of them clutched their chests or gasped for air.
'Subdue him, don't let him get into your minds'
"Who are you, and what did you do to Sherlock?" John responded.
'Impressive. You can hear the earpiece from that far away'
"Yeah, and I can see your camera too. Show yourself, you scaredy-cat."
John practically growled at the small camera hidden behind the books on the highest shelf of the room and stomp-climbed up the furniture to it before everyone else in the room. Wait, John mentally smacked himself across his head. Dummy. He forgot that Mrs. H and the annoying minions were in the room with him.
He mentally apologised to Mrs H and was about to send a Type 2 Wipe before he heard a single command - 'Shoot.'
'Be more careful next time. Your expression gave yourself away', John heard the voice chuckle as he felt himself fall into the darkness.
John woke up feeling groggy and lifted his head up from his chest.
He tried to look around, but panicked slightly when he couldn't move his body. His arms and legs were apparently strapped onto a stereotypical dentist-like chair. Oh great, and his fingers weren't responding either. John internally groaned.
"I see you've finally awaken," said a voice from behind him, making John jump.
John could've sworn that icy tone sounded vaguely familiar. He frowned as a bright light flickered to life, momentarily blinding his vision and stopping him from seeing who his host was. The sudden flash made him recoil and he felt himself clench his hands, a sign that he could start moving again.
"Who are you, and where's Sherlock?" John growled.
"I think you're asking the wrong questions." The voice paused. "Why do you care for Holmes so much?"
John noticed the man in front of him hesitated slightly. "You can call him Sherlock if you want."
Concern was all that John could feel from the man in front of him when Sherlock's name was brought up. This was most likely a bothersome overprotective person who abused their power for whatever reason to try to get closer to Sherlock. Who else would go through all that trouble just to kidnap a 'new friend?'
"Doctor Watson, what are you doing here in London?"
That was when John froze. How the heck did that man know he was a doctor? To the rest of the world he didn't even exist. Unless...
"It's John, please," John said, hoping that the man didn't know anything about imaginary spirits.
"John. Can you please explain why you were found walking to a crime scene demanding Sherlock?"
"What is your problem? I only wanted to talk to him!"
"You knew him, yet there is no such meeting recorded. You have never crossed paths before, yet you know even more than Sherlock does."
"You profiled him? No wonder he avoids you, you're a freaking stalker."
The lights suddenly turned off and John blinked trying to adjust his vision, he could see the man in front of him was red and frowning. Then something snapped in his mind, no. It couldn't be...
Mycroft spoke-up, "This stalker is his brother."
(FLASHBACK)
John grinned as Sherlock's brother, Mycroft was his name, peeked his head into the room to check on his baby brother.
The spirit stood up and cautiously waited for the older Holmes to put his books and bags down. The child was a genius so far as John could tell and Sherlock would definitely follow his footsteps.
Anthena walked into the room seconds after Mycroft set his bags, John grinned broadly and waved to her.
"Hey."
"Afternoon, John," Anthena said as she glanced up from her blackberry.
"Hey Myc." John grinned evilly. He knew that the boy hated that name.
Mycroft turned slightly and gave John the death glare before he walked over to Sherlock's bed ignoring them both. John rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out at Anthena hoping to crack up the political spirit.
He pouted when he got no response. "Busy day?"
"More bullying, a lot of the spirits are leaving their children," Anthena sighed, looking over to Mycroft.
"Oh," John also turned his head, "He's almost eight..."
"He knows what will happen, I've already told him. Besides, he's capable of taking care of himself in the future."
"Wait. You told him?" he hissed.
"Problem?" Anthena stared at John, "Oh, I keep forgetting, you're new in this section; anyway, the affluent spirits all tell their children ahead of time. Supposed to make them more independent."
"I'm not-"
"John," Mycroft said, holding Sherlock in his arms, "I wish to speak with you alone. Anthena, please."
Anthena frowned at John but the blond spirit shrugged, and she left the room, leaving the spirit alone with the two Holmes, "Yes, Myc?"
"I need you to make a promise."
(~end~)
Oh shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot; John was in big trouble.
This would be the second child who had seen him as a human and what was worse is that this one works for the government. John wanted to disappear. Murray was definitely going to do more than just snicker at his horrible misfortune.
"You know about me too," Mycroft stared at the blonde who was trying to avoid his gaze.
"No... I don't. I saw your pictures, er..."
"I don't believe Sherlock is the sentimental kind."
John couldn't help but realise that Anthena had been correct. Mycroft had become a great imposing figure, but this was starting to feel too intense. The doctor looked at everything around the blank room but Mycroft.
Maybe he could just sneakily throw a Wipe...
"Don't you dare. The government wouldn't like that." John jumped. The man had to be a psychic.
"I'm not telling you anything," John stubbornly replied.
Mycroft's face showed signs of irritation but continue to hold his composure and walked up towards John before glancing down at the table briefly looking at a thin file. The blonde curiously tilted his head forward.
Captain John H. Watson, M.D.
Oddly that was all John could see before Mycroft swiftly closed the file after less than a second. Then Mycroft's phone pinged.
"We're ready for phase two," Mycroft replied.
Minutes later John found himself in a sealed conference room with only one glass window. Thankfully he wasn't strapped down this time. He wished he had invisibility, which was usually unnecessary for a spirit, but it would really benefit him right now.
"You have absolutely NO RIGHT to hold me here!" someone shouted, then the door swung open rather hard nearly bursting John's eardrums.
"I don't give a damn! This violates every law to-" a figure was shoved into the room.
The spirit quickly ran across the room to check if the person was okay. Seriously, had Anthena ever taught the kid any manners?
"You okay?" John reached towards the swearing ash-blond.
"Fine. I've had wor-"
John's eyes widened when he saw the other's face. If anything was creepier it looked exactly the same as the reflection in the mirror he looked into a few hours ago.
"What the actual fuck," the human said before punching John in the face.
A/N: This is one of the most longest chapter I've written so far... Sorry for the year long wait.
John: Wait... so I punched myself?
W_H: That'll be explained in the next chapters.
Sherlock: John, let me see your face.
W_H: I thought you had 25/20 or so vision, what's the point of-
"Watson_Holmes holds an icepack and glares at the 'oh-so' innocent detective." ~fin.