PRESENT DAY
John swept his hands across his face. His mind was a swirl of chaos and confusion.
It was him.
He was the reason for all of this madness.
Sherlock had been taking drugs because of him.
Sherlock might...
He couldn't finish his own thoughts and found himself grateful for the distraction of a hand on his arm.
"You can't blame yourself, John", Greg squeezed his friend's arm, "This really isn't your fault."
John sighed. He supposed he knew that really but boy, was he feeling responsible. Shouldn't he have seen it? Shouldn't he have known? Shouldn't he have been able to tell that...
"Sherlock is in love with me?" Tears pricked at his red-rimmed eyes again. Surely there are no more tears to fall, he thought. "He told you?"
"I don't think he would have if I hadn't found him after..." Greg responded, leaving the sentence open, neither of them really wanting to discuss what had happened. Not now. Not yet.
"He was confused. He didn't know what to do; how to cope. He couldn't tell you himself, I guess. I thought he might..." he trailed off again, his voice cracking.
"Does Mycroft know?" John's question was unexpected, and Greg wasn't immediately sure whether to answer truthfully. His hesitation gave him away however.
"Right." John nodded, accepting that he was clearly the one being kept out of the loop. "Just me then."
"Mate," Greg tipped his head to meet John's, looking his friend directly in the face; in those lost, confused eyes.
"The thing with Mycroft..."
He swallowed hard, trying to muster up enough courage to tell John what had happened.
"... I only told Mycroft about this last night. He knew something was wrong. I was just... updating him. I felt he should know, if there was a chance he could help..."
Greg knew he wasn't entirely getting to the point, but as John sat there almost mindlessly nodding along, it was getting harder and harder to say it.
"Mycroft and I... we're... involved."
There. It was out. He sat back on the hard plastic chair with a long exhale.
John turned his head to the detective to see him sat, face screwed up almost as if he was waiting for something bad to happen.
"Involved?" he asked.
"With each other." Greg clarified.
"It just kind of... happened." Greg wondered at his timing. It felt as though air needed clearing about everything and he had felt compelled to get it out, but he did wonder whether, under the circumstances, it was news that would be unwelcome.
"Right." John nodded again. He wasn't sure he could form anything beyond one-word sentences right now. Greg and Mycroft. Well, why not? he thought. A small smile crept across his lips.
"And it's good?" he finally asked.
Greg raised an eyebrow at the smile, the question and the memory.
"Oh yes," he answered, mirroring John's smile and expanding it into a full face grin. "It's very good."
Mycroft was sitting next to his brother when the doctor came in, closely followed by a nurse.
"He is stable, Mr Holmes." the doctor offered with a nod to the younger man laid between them. "We have assessed his physical state as best we can and cannot see any obviously problems... " he hesitated as Mycroft stood and rounded the bed to stand in front of the young doctor. The doctor swallowed nervously before continuing "however, whether there are any long-term psychological effects, we may not be able to tell immediately."
"Thank you, Doctor..." he glanced at the anxious-looking doctor's name tag, "...Hawkins. Do we know when he might be expected to wake up?"
Doctor Hawkins glanced at his clipboard before answering, "Later today, I think. He is currently being kept lightly sedated while we assess him. His body temperature has begun to stabilise but he has showed signs of not being ready to be off the ventilator or saline yet. We need to particularly monitor his heart and these checks are, for the time being, best done while the patient... your brother is sedated."
Mycroft nodded and began walking towards the door while the nurse checked over Sherlock, changing saline bags and taking readings. "I trust somebody will contact me if there is any change in his condition, Doctor Hawkins?"
The doctor cleared his throat, "Of course, Mr Holmes. Of course." and he breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed behind one the most terrifyingly influential relatives he had ever had the luck to be presented with.
He turned to his patient and shook his head. "Mr Holmes. I fear for my own job if you don't pull through this!"
The nurse smiled sympathetically. She knew he was right.
As Mycroft appeared in the waiting room, looking completely lost and out of place, Greg and John stood and approached him. Both men were red-eyed and puffy-faced and Mycroft swallowed, unsure what conversation had gone on between them and what exactly might have been discussed.
"John. Gregory." Mycroft nodded to the two men, and the three passed out of the waiting room and into the corridor. "Please allow me to take you both to breakfast."
John looked at his watch. How the hell did it get to be 7am already? Unsure he could eat, he nearly declined but quickly decided that perhaps the distraction would be worthwhile.
Mycroft led them out to a little bistro café on the corner of the street, merely nodding to the girl behind the counter as he entered. The three men took a table in the corner, decorated with a quaint check tablecloth and a small vase of fresh flowers. Seconds later, the same girl appeared with 3 coffees and a selection of breakfast pastries. Looking at them, John realised he actually was hungry and he took one eagerly.
Mycroft smiled and took a drink of his coffee. "I spoke with the doctor, Sherlock is stable. Physically, they think he will be fine but they are keeping an eye on his heart." He paused as his voice roughened. For somebody who was usually so composed; so unaffected, he was struggling to speak. Greg placed a hand over Mycroft's coffee-free one and gave the man a reassuring smile. Mycroft nodded his thanks. "They are unsure about any long-term psychological effects. These cannot be assessed until he is awake." Mycroft placed his coffee back on the table and used the free hand to lay on top of Greg's. As Mycroft's eyes met the detective's, the two of them for one short moment, might have been the only people in the café or the only people in the world.
John almost smiled as he witnessed the obvious connection between them. Almost.
The moment broke naturally and Mycroft turned back to their companion. "Doctor Hawkins has assured me that we shall be informed immediately of any change in his condition, John." he said, with rare use of John's first name.
John nodded and hoped that was enough.
The young nurse guided the man through the corridor and towards Sherlock's room.
"He is being kept sedated at the moment," she explained, motioning to the door, "so don't expect much response, but please do talk to him. He may still be aware of your presence."
"Thank you, nurse." the soft Irish tones replied.