CHAPTER 21. LAST WORDS
Mycroft considered the detailed information meticulous collected and than just as quickly reported to him by his top agents. From that intel he deduced Harriet Watson had lied to his brother. No surprise.
John it would seem had no knowledge that either man had come to visit him while he was recovering from surgery. Harriet Watson didn't have the strength in character to be anything but vindictive.
How her drinking hadn't yet affected her job was beyond Mycroft, but it gave new meaning to the term functioning alcoholic. Although reports did show she had been clean since John's return. Mycroft snorted to himself, wondering how long that would last. Her concern for John always carried so far before her own selfishness took over.
He could remember their first encounter all those years ago. When he'd gone up to find his brothers absent friend. After sending John to the car Mycroft had gone into the small living room where the telly was switched on, blaring some ghastly ear assaulting noise that some called music. So he switched it off.
"Hey! I was watching that! What the hell do you think you're doing?" The teenage girl was on her feet now, nearly falling over the empty beer bottles and cans littering the area around the tattered couch.
"A word Miss. Watson. I just wanted your attention. And now that I have it"
"Fuck off." She held the remote in her hand pointing it at the screen. Mycroft rolled his eyes of course she wouldn't be reasonable, why would she?
Harry tried the power button and when the tele didn't switch on she shook the thing, still trying to ignore the taller teenager. "Stupid batteries!" then she crossed her arms over her chest sitting back onto the couch defeated. Mycroft observed the bare arms, as she was wearing a plain black tank top with the white skull of some popular rock band, and of course the jeans she wore he couldn't tell if it was for fashion or because she couldn't afford a new pair.
"What the hell you looking at huh? Like what you see your majesty?" she sneered reaching for an open can on the floor next to her booted feet. "Cause I am not interested, not my type." She took a swig, and Mycroft counted to ten before continuing.
"Miss. Watson, am I correct to assume your father is incarcerated."
"Yeah, what of it? He'll be in the clink till the end of summer."
"I see you survived the little ordeal unscathed." Mycroft glanced again at her unbruised arms then her untouched face.
"I wasn't home. And even if I was-Johnny shouldn't of –"
"Right." Mycroft cut her off, not wishing to be in the presence of such a selfish child. "So you can get back to your uh-leisure time I'll keep it short. This is what is going to happen. John has been invited by my mother and brother to spend Holiday at the beach. He'll be gone a few weeks." Mycroft had originally planed on a week but something in him wanted to extend the time.
"Fine by me. I don't need the little bastard around here dumping out my bottles. Annoying little-"
"Well it's settled then do you wish to say goodbye?" she scrunched up her face.
"What for?" She rolled her eyes. "We done here?"
"Clearly." Mycroft replied. He started to leave "Don't forget his horrible brown hoodie, takes it everywhere." She went to the hall closet and pulled out a boys baggy hoodied sweatshirt. Mycroft tried not to make a face when she handed it to him, well at least it was clean. "You think your better than us dont you?" Mycroft didnt answer. " Fine maybe you are. Johnny might be too dense to see through this little act. I know your just looking for some way to bribe someone to keep that curly haired little twirp brother of yours out of trouble. John's good at that. Always taking on the lost causes." She giggled as if she'd delivered some verbal blow.
"Oh is that why he elects to stay home and care for his alcoholic father and a sister who finds a pathetic means of escape through drinking and promiscuity?"
"Fuck off." She growled following him towards the door angrily.
"It's fine Miss. Watson I can see myself out." Harriett Watson held open the door and was sure to slam it behind the expressionless teenager in the gray suit.
Now Mycroft Holmes, older brother and Government Employee as well as freelance adviser, felt out of his depth. For the second time in his life he debated on just leaving, but the car was already pulling up. Time to face the firing squad as they say.
John climbed out of the expensive government car, his stomach knotted as the the last encounters with Mycroft Holmes played over and over in his head.
Of course, he sighed, he would be brought to an abandoned warehouse. Mycroft did love his dramatics as much as Sherlock.
"Doctor Watson." He greeted John with his usual air of haughty authority, the one John had always found annoying. A quick glance showed the taller man had in fact lost weight since their last meeting. Still wearing his signature posh gray suit, and leaning on the blasted black umbrella.
"Mycroft, you know you could have called me on my phone." John approached the Government man, openly ignoring the empty chair in front of him.
"Would you have answered?" John frowned by the unexpected tone, was it imagined did Mycroft sound amused. That wasn't good, Mycroft must already have a plan in store for John, he just hoped it was quick and painless. "John, please sit." Mycroft gestured for the chair sitting in the middle of the near empty room.
"Thanks, I'll stand if it's all the same."
"Still stubborn." The taller man sighed tapping his umbrella against his expensive leather shoes.
"Still above the dramatics I can see." John's tone was light, and Mycroft almost felt somewhat at ease.
The silence between them hung with tension, made worse by the fact that both men refused to allow their eyes to meet.
John gripped his cane, feeling Mycroft's intense scrutiny fall over him, head to toe, and shame nearly suffocated the ex soldier. Knowing that the Holmes brothers could see through him, see the shattered pieces of the man he once was, and to his greatest humiliation Mycroft and Sherlock no doubt had figured the limp was psychosomatic. John wouldn't meet the intense gray eyes, he couldn't stand to read pity or the rejection he anticipated. Instead ex soldier figured he may as well get it over with, and as usual he spoke first.
"Mycroft, I'm sorry." And then in his mind; Please don't make me leave him.
John knew he couldn't let go of Sherlock again, he felt like a man tumbling out of control down a mountain and when Sherlock met with him, it was a small hand hold, that kept him from truly falling into the nothing. Slowly he found he was pulling himself up, if Mycroft told John to go-he didn't know what he'd do. But John would respect the wishes of the older Holmes, it wasn't his nature to cause others problems, he would never wish to be a cause of a rift between the two brothers. "For what it's worth that is. I'm sorry. I hope we can put the past firmly behind us and start over."
Mycroft should have expected this after all the Doctor was indeed a forgiving young man always had been, still it surprised the British Government.
Once more he reminded himself , John Watson wasn't an ordinary man by any means. And standing there looking down at the Doctor, who kept focusing on his cane, Mycroft could only see that blond kid from that first summer. Recalling the summer were Sherlock would have surely brought the house down had he not been reunited with his assistant.
"I see you've moved in with my brother, and now you're going to crime scenes with him. Should I expect a happy announcement by the end of the week?" This drew a laugh from the shorter man. "Do you plan on sticking around this time Captain John Watson?" John frowned his head coming up. "I'm willing to increase your income-"
"What? Why?"
"Because you re not a wealthy man."
"In return for?" John was experiencing déjà vu.
"Oh nothing you should feel uncomfortable with. Just an exchange of information. Compensation if you will, for having to be around my brother."
"So" John felt a grin start to tease the sides of his own lips. "What your saying is you want to pay me to hang out with Sherlock?"
"Well-"
"No." John sighed. Yes, same old Mycroft.
"I haven't named a price."
"You don't have to. The answer is still no."
"Yes still stubborn, still willing to trust my brother. " John's mobile pinged alerting him of an incoming text. "And of course that would be my brother. Impatient as always." John smiled reading the message.
"Yes well it's good to see some things will never change."
"Dr. Watson." Mycroft cleared his throat. "Do you plan to continue your association with Sherlock Holmes?"
"I could be wrong Mycroft but I don't think that's any of your business." Mycroft held back a grin only arching his eyebrow.
"I see your still worrying about him."
"Constantly."
"We've been through this before Mycroft. I suppose we can skip to the end. Are we done then?" John released the breath he was holding. Mentally crossing his fingers that this was all.
"I imagine people have already warned you to stay away from my brother."
Great no such luck. John took another deep breath.
"Is that what this is?" Blue eyes searched gray, those icy blue/gray eyes bore into him now.
"John. When you walk with Sherlock Holmes you see the battlefield, you already see it. His new career choice although unique, it's extremely dangerous. He isn't playing on garden walls and starting dorms on fire. You do understand if you get involved with my brother you will most certainly be drawn into his work."
"As a side kick?" John held back a laugh, Mycroft couldn't be serious. Was he?
"An assistant is the term I believe he'll most likely use. Don't be juvenile John." there was the Mycroft John remembered. The bored tone of voice and the look of irritation.
"If he needs my help I'm there for him. I doubt he'll want to wait on a limping ex soldier though. I cant keep up like I used to."
" You have an intermittent tremor in your left hand. " John self consciously made a fist, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. He didnt want to know how Mycroft knew that, or what else the British Government knew.
"Well there you go."
Mycroft ignored the sharp retort, continuing as if John hadn't said anything.
"Your therapist should be fired John. She doesn't know you. You'll see soon enough, once your shoulder is completely healed my brother will be dragging you along willing or not, if he hasn't already. "
"I doubt that." John shook his head a forced grin now, he wasn't any use to anyone. Sherlock had a life, John just felt blessed to be able to observe the excitement no way he'd ever get to be apart of that.
"I see you doubt me. Just consider this Doctor Watson, you aren't haunted by the war, you miss it. "
The good Doctor only shrugged biting the inside of his cheek he tried to think about what Mycroft Holmes was saying. Why did it make more sense than what his damned therapist had been trying to make him believe?
All that aside, was this really what Mycroft brought him here for, could there be more? Surely he didn't just want a chat, last time the two met-well John wanted to forget all that. He straightened his shoulders and faced forward at attention, sensing there was more to be said by the British Government, and he would at least this time give him the courtesy of hearing him out. No matter how painful, John would listen.
Mycroft wanted to apologize; as much as he hated the words I was wrong. He wasn't a man above admitting his error and then moving past it. Still the British Government tried to find the words, and he could tell his hesitation caused the younger man to tense as if expecting stipulations or some kind of warning. So this gave him ample opportunity to do both, without really having to say the bitter words;I was wrong.
"John, try to keep yourselves out of trouble. I hope my brother wont be too much of a bad influence. Bravery John is another word for stupidity, do remember that before barreling into any situation without thinking. Welcome back." Mycroft turned on his heel leaving John to stand and stare after him, baffled, he glanced down at his hand it wasn't shaking now, come to think of it, it had been steady these last few days.
"I wont ask you to choose a side Doctor Watson. I already know that answer." his words echoed through the empty building, leaving a very confused John Watson. Was that really all? Did Mycroft actually sound relieved that he was moving in with Sherlock? Maybe this year wouldn't be so bad a year after all.