Sherlock story
Deleted Memories, Chapter 115
Warning: post Reichenbach spoilers. Hope you enjoy
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"There is a little boy inside the man who is my brother. Oh, how I hated that little boy. And how I love him
too."~Anna Quindlan
Present Day
John walked towards the dining room wondering what Sherlock was upset about this time.
For the first time in five days, it had been a perfectly peaceful morning.
He shook his head as he walked down the hallway.
"I will not have you threaten me Mycroft, I'm not a child," John heard Sherlock saying in a raised voice.
"Then stop acting like one," John heard Mycroft calmly reply.
John found the Holmes brother locked in some sort of mental combat, staring each other down.
When John left the brothers, they were both sitting in chairs facing each other talking calmly, now both were standing facing each other. While Mycroft was composed, Sherlock was becoming more animated by the second.
"I refuse," Sherlock said through clenched teeth.
"Cambridge University," Mycroft said simply, calmly.
"You can't keep holding that over my head," Sherlock got in Mycroft's personal space and sighed then said with a pleading look.
"I told you, I was doing an experiment on the effects of alcohol and sleep deprivation. I knew its effect on a normal mind. Don't you see? I wanted to see its effect on a superior one. Since no one else at that… institution had a superior mind but myself …," Sherlock let his voice trail off before speaking again.
"Furthermore, if they thought I was going to give some speech about how we should march bravely into our future for Queen and Country, they truly were idiots," Sherlock said with contempt.
Sherlock pleading tone came back.
"Besides Mycroft, you said you destroyed all the copies," Sherlock whispered to his brother as he invaded Mycroft's personal space.
John eyes widened at the scene in front of him. He could tell that things were escalating. John, however, was not willing to interfere just yet, besides he wanted to hear more.
So, he poured himself a cup of tea, and leaned against the wall.
"Do you know how much your little prank cost me Sherlock, and yes I did destroy all the copies, except one that is. I still watch it every now and then, but mostly on holidays." A dangerous smile was on Mycroft's face.
"Imbecile," Sherlock's eyes narrowed.
"Moron," Mycroft crossed his arm.
"You're impossible," Sherlock crossed his arm as well.
"You're insufferable," Mycroft's smile left.
"Jerk," Sherlock spat.
"Git," Mycroft, losing control now.
"Sod," Sherlock.
"Twit," Mycroft.
Sherlock's eyes narrowed as he drew a deep breath.
"Son of a …" Sherlock was interrupted.
"Boys," John shouted.
He got between the brothers. Who were both breathing heavily and throwing daggers with their eyes.
"Boys please, let's all just take a breath," John said again more gently this time.
Both brothers looked at John.
Mycroft immediately changed his expression to one of calm. Then he picked up his umbrella and turned to leave.
"Well, I think I'll get back to the office."
As Mycroft left he walked close to John and smiled saying, "Talk some sense into that thick head of his will you."
John waited until he heard the door close then looked at Sherlock with questioning eyes.
Sherlock pouted then after rolling his eyes, he walked over to the bin.
John followed with a confused look on his face.
"Oh," John said looking at the floor. He had no doubt that the only reason that it was not in the trash bin was because it did not fit.
John picked the offensive object up and examined it. "Actually Sherlock, this is a very nice one, I've never seen one so thin."
"You could not possibly be serious John," Sherlock looked insulted.
"Well yes I am actually; you could wear it under your suit and shirt. You may have to wear undershirts to keep it from rubbing on your skin while it's healing …."
Sherlock interrupted John.
"I… will… never… put… that… thing… on!" Sherlock walked away and dramatically sighed while letting his body fall a little too quickly on the couch. He grunted at the discomfort before crossing his arms.
"Why not?" John asked following Sherlock. "Frankly, I'm on Mycroft's side this time. I know it may be a little uncomfortable as you heal, but a bullet is much more uncomfortable."
"It's not the discomfort," Sherlock said.
At John's questioning expression, Sherlock added.
"It's not necessary; Mycroft has always had a flair for the dramatic. I am perfectly fine without one. If Mycroft thinks he can force me to wear that, that… thing, he's mistaken!" Sherlock sank further into the couch.
"Oh, I see," John, said with a false calm.
Sherlock turned his head in John's direction with a questioning look on his own.
"This is some sort of rebellion toward Mycroft isn't it Sherlock? It's a bullet-proof vest Sherlock, just wear the bloody thing!" John was starting to agree with Mycroft's earlier comment that Sherlock could be insufferable.
John stood for a few minutes trying to get his heart rate under control. He knew Sherlock's `I will not bend face'.
John closed his eyes, took a breath then spoke.
"Sherlock, remember this, there are people who care for you. These same people might just miss you a little if something were to happen to you. I would miss you, Sherlock." John put the vest back down and walked away, having little hope that Sherlock would yield.
Sherlock frowned as he watched John's retreating form.