Interlude II John

Tossing and turning John is lying in his bed. He tries very hard, but sleep just won't come. Shadows hunt each other on the walls of his bedroom. The past days keep repeating themselves in his mind. After his little breakdown in the kitchen the other morning, it had seemed clear what he had to do to solve his problems and make his life a bit easier. But now he is not sure, whether he wants to go on with his plan. It will be easy to redo all that he has done since. To call Mycroft and demand the letter back. To stop the whole thing. He is not at all certain if it was a good idea to write the letter. Thinking it over it feels weird. Calling Mycroft and asking for his help is bound to upset Sherlock very much if he will find out and cause sibling rivalry to raise his ugly head again. But there is no one else John can ask for help. He hopes the letter will explain to Sherlock and make him understand why he was so desperate that he had to take those steps. He had never written something similar. And he is afraid of what this letter and everything that Mycroft arranges is going to create. He hopes it will not turn the situation even worse. Like Loosing Sherlock forever.

John had called Mycroft to ask for a meeting and Mycroft showed up in his own manner. He appeared directly next to him when he was buying some milk.

"So, Dr. Watson, you want me to do you a favor?" he had asked swirling his umbrella and raising one eyebrow.

"Yes." John had nodded only once, still holding the bottle of milk in his right hand.

"I was afraid this would happen. Sherlock is very demanding and consuming, I know. But you will not leave him? Because it is you who has changed him a lot. Loosing you would be devastating for him."

"Yes, I know. That is the reason why I cannot leave him. So I have to find another way. To get out, but to stay. If I found a way to stay with him and while forgetting all this mess inside me I would gladly do so. I know he needs me, but not like I need him. And that is the reason why I can't stand living with him anymore. It will destroy me."

John had put the milk in his shopping cart and had moved on to the sugar. Mycroft had followed him slowly. After some moments of silence, he spoke again, leaning on his umbrella: "Because this is my brother we are talking about, and I am very concerned and I do have an idea for your problem. But you must understand, if I am handling it my way, it will not be easy for both of you. And maybe, in case something goes wrong, you cannot return. And if he finds out that I am involved, and he will find out, be sure of that, I may lose my little brother. You are asking very much of me."

"Yeah, I know. And I wish that it would work any other way, but you know him. He would never let me go. And I don't want to go, but I can't switch off my feelings." John had swallowed audibly. "Would you deliver a message when it is clear that I will not ...?"

Mycroft had taken a glance on his pocket watch. "The letter is already finished I assume?"

John had nodded and had moved on to add some toast and tinned beans to the cart. Mycroft had followed silently in his wake. After John had paid for his items and had started to pack his purchases in a plastic bag, Mycroft had addressed him again. "Alright then, you can give it to me. Bring it to my office when Sherlock is sidetracked. I promise I will deliver it when I am sure that your absence is permanent."

"Thank you, Mycroft." John had left the shop. Mycroft had stayed behind, but John had heard what Mycroft had muttered to himself. "Oh well, that will break my little brother, or at least bend him."

Two days later John had delivered the letter he had already written to Mycroft's office. Sherlock had been called to come to New Scotland Yard, again a cry for help from Lestrade. Without further explanation John had asked Lestrade to help him get some time alone in the afternoon and Lestrade had accomplished his wish.

There in Mycroft's office John had sat in front of the older Holmes and had felt like a nervous little school boy. "Mr. Holmes, would you tell me what you have planned?" he had asked with the letter still in his slightly shaking hands.

Bemused Mycroft had arched his eyebrows. "Dr. Watson, if I would tell you, what I am about to do, we could stop the whole thing right here and now. Believe me, it will be easier for you not to know what is coming. And Sherlock of course would get suspicious if you behave in a different way. He can read you like an open book, you know that. And that is the last thing we want right now, isn't it?"

Mycroft was not so sure about the letter and the whole thing. But on the other hand emotions and feelings are the one area where the Holmes family fails spectacularly. So Mycroft left the decisions in this case to be John's.

John knew that Mycroft is aware of his feelings and he trusts that he won't talk. He promised not to. And John is sure that he can rely on him.

So he had left the letter in Mycroft's office and went home. Since then he is waiting for the hammer to fall.

A couple of days later a storage hall with two men trapped inside, fighting for their lives and trying to rescue each other, explodes.