[Sherlock]
I watched him leave and I finally realised what it was like to be the one left behind. Before I fell, it was always me who ran off and left John, and I never gave a thought to what it must have felt like for him. Always watching me as I ran off, never able to catch up.
My resolve cracked as I watched him give me one last look from the back of the car. It was a sad look, not the slightly feral look he'd been giving Lestrade when we'd first arrived. It still wasn't a look the old John would have given me, but it was closer. The problem was, he had left. That meant he'd chosen his new life over me. Did it mean he no longer cared for me? There had been obvious signs of anger and depression when he'd seen me for the first time after believing I was dead. However, whether that was because he had been sad about my death or my return was unclear.
When I could no longer see that sad look in John's eyes, I slowly stood up. This warranted a sudden unwanted attention from Lestrade and Mycroft, who I didn't really want to talk to but I knew there would be an inevitable conversation sooner or later. That didn't mean it couldn't be later.
I turned to leave, intending a speedy wt-away, but Lestrade shouted after me. I had a desperate desire to run, not to look back and see the pity-filled faces of the Yard officers. I didn't want their sympathy. But I needed to know what had happened, what had gone wrong with John so that I could have a better understanding of how to help him.
I waited for him to catch up, but I didn't turn around. When he put his hand on my back I flinched unintentionally, causing him to remove it as though I had burned him.
"We need to talk..." He said, and I sighed. A clicking of expensive shoes started behind me, and I turned to see my brother's expressionless face scrutinising me for signs of discomfort and loss. They were there, but carefully hidden underneath my blank look.
I nodded my consent to Lestrade, and we headed back to his office. Once we arrived, I sat in his chair, much to his annoyance. Obviously I wasn't going to just stand! It was much easier to think when sitting down, you didn't have to worry about useless things such as keeping your balance.
"When?" I asked. Lestrade gave me a blank look, and I rolled my eyes in frustration. "When did John go...downhill?" I added, unable to use 'mad' or 'insane' in my description of him, even after what he'd done.
Mycroft answered first. "We aren't completely sure. He disappeared the week after you fell, and only returned half a year ago. By then he'd already created his little... 'Empire'. We tried to talk sense into him, but he was already too far gone, hell-bent on revenge for your death. He was insane, psychopathic and completely focused on you."
"Like Moriarty..." Lestrade said softly. My eyes snapped to his and I growled in fury.
"Don't. Ever. Compare. Him. To. That. Madman." I said, my eyes narrowing in pain and fury. There was no need to shout, they could see the anger burning in my expression.
"I'm afraid, brother, that at the moment that is the best description of him. John Watson is long gone. I'm sorry." Mycroft said.
I took a moment before giving them my answer. "No."
"No?" Lestrade looked puzzled.
"No." I agreed. I returned my gaze to Mycroft's questioning one.
"You still think he an be saved," he said quietly. I didn't bother to agree with him, they could both see it in my face anyway. Mycroft sighed dejectedly, in the way a parent does just before explaining to their child why what they think is wrong.
"I know it's hard, Sherlock. However, I have always had your best interests at heart, and the man you once called friend has succumbed to madness. Neither of us expected something like this to happen, but there were always risks with your plan. Something was bound to happen. You need to move on, to accept the fact you can no longer live and work together. I did tell you sentiment was not an advantage, maybe if your listened to me none of this would have happened." It was a low blow, even for Mycroft, but it still hurt.
"I can't just move on with life and pretend he never happened!" I roared, before turning back to Lestrade, even knowing I was pleading a losing case. "You said it yourself! He makes me a better person! We make each other whole!" I was beyond the point of civil conversation. Now was the time to find someone to blame. I chose Mycroft.
"This is your fault! You were supposed to take care of him!" I screamed at my brother, knowing he would not care much for my loss of control, but it still felt good to say it.
"That's what he said as well." Mycroft replied bitterly. "I get involved to try and help you, and this is the thanks I get. Well, good luck with your futile quest to return the good doctor's humanity, brother." And with that, he left, his umbrella making clicking sounds on the linoleum as he fled my wrath.
I glowered at his receding back, but he didn't turn around to meet my glare. "Good riddance," I muttered, but it wasn't, not really. I most likely would need his help in the near future, but my pride could not take many more hits that day.
Lestrade made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sigh before slouching into the chair across from me, his head soon resting into his hands from sheer exhaustion.
I needed an idea for what to do next, I decided.
"I need a list of exactly everything you know about John following my death." I told him, watching for his reaction.
He chuckled into his hands, before looking back up at me, determination set into his features.
"Sounds like a plan," He said.
I didn't think I was going to be able to post this chapter tonight but, well, here you go! Sorry for any mistakes, I haven't had time to go through and correct it! Please keep reviewing, I've actually got a little competition running between me and my friend as to who can get the most reviews in a fic, so I'm hoping to win! Please help! I'll give imaginary Nutella cookies to everyone who reviews!