CHAPTER 60. WHAT THE BUTLER SAID

"Keeps me young, keeping a shine on the cars." He sighed feeling the younger Holmes's dark look.

"Go on. What do you want to know?"

"My father was talking to me. Some of it made no sense at all."

"Oh, you want me to confirm your suspicions. Oh, sorry deductions? You have always been that way. Always needing to know if you were right, it wasn't enough that you were, nope someone just had to confirm it. No one else could solve the problem for you, you had to do it on your own. Alright, you asked. So I'll answer. I wasn't just the butler and driver. Your father was a businessman; he dealt with other businessmen some unsavory others a bit dishonest. I accompanied him when he expected retaliation of some kind, for buy outs or other negotiations."

"Other negotiations?"

"Does it matter Sherlock? The man will be laid to rest and so will his secrets."

"Alright. Father mentioned having a talk with John's father."

"Oh, here it is. The one question that is nagging the back of your mind."

"If you are asking if I had anything to do with the cut breaks, I didn't. He hired out of town help on that. Imagine his irritation when he finds out, despite all the trouble he went through that you and Mycroft managed to change your minds about John. He broke his oldest bottle of scotch against the fireplace. All that planning and you and Mycroft go and turn your backs on the younger man.

At that point your father thought you both to be spoiled and he was done trying to help either of you.

You do know that kid, had no idea. When he came around you were entertained and your poor mother was a little less stressed. Mycroft could concentrate on climbing his social ladders or whatever he does. Honestly your father thought you'd lose interest a lot sooner. Your father isn't as stupid as you and Mycroft think. He knew about your little friend before Mycroft approached him about setting up a scholarship program." Sherlock winced.

"Oh yeah. I'm sure you realize by now. He didn't know everyone knew about that scholarship, except you and John. Even your mother knew."

"Mycroft knew?" Sherlock cringed, his brother hadn't corrected him. He'd yelled at John pushed his only friend away. Because he thought he accepted the money for school as compensation. That their friendship was just a cold business deal. A way for a poor kid to climb out of the dark hole that was his life. Even now Sherlock had put it away from him, he hadn't found the courage to ask John to clarify.

"Of course Mycroft knew. Your father let him think it was his idea."

"Why?"

"You ever wonder why you were your mother's favorite?" Sherlock didn't answer.

"You look exactly like her brother. He died when you were about one. His plane was shot down. They never gave us the specifics. However I bet Mycroft could always find out. The older you became the more you reminded her of her only brother. I think your father treated you badly for it. He did try to make up for it. Remember that puppy you found and brought home?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Yes, father said I couldn't keep it, he had Amelia take it and have it destroyed."

"It was sick. Sherlock you were too young to know. It would have died. Still you cried for days. He thought it was best. He's always been a hard man but he's far from heartless. He thought of John at first like that damn dog. I think we all did. He wasn't, was he? He was a perfect solution.

Mycroft didn't have time to spend with you and you ran every nanny out. So logical conclusion was to let this friendship ride out. John kept you entertained. You were already two years ahead of your age group in school. The prospect of you making any other friends were slim. You did like to alienate people. Your father thought of it as business at first." Royce frowned dumping clean water over the soapy hood.

"Then it became clearer that he was more like a brother you never had. Your mother was a sick woman, you were too small to understand even with your big brain. Your father knew you would need someone, and Mycroft had his own life. You never connected with anyone, other than this kid, for some reason. So he had a background check run on the family, of course Mycroft thought he was the first one to do so. Your father asked me what I thought of the boy. I told him it wasn't a good idea. People aren't toys to be used as entertainment and then forgotten when one became bored."

Royce thought of his first meeting of the boy, his ripped shirt and grass stained jeans.

"He didn't agree. It wasn't until that first time-" Royce started to towel dry the car, Sherlock hadn't even realized the man had already started to wax the car. He was a million miles away.

"Do you remember. You were tearing through the house, terrorizing the new house staff, you even decided to run and experiment involving your great great great grandmothers favorite drapes hanging in the upstairs library. Then Mycroft returned with John in tow, looking bruised and defeated." Sherlock didn't like to remember these things. It had been difficult to understand at that age the emotions he felt when John showed up with a bruised face and the shoe print on the center of his back. The tread was so perfectly outlined in a deep purple.

"I looked into it. The kid's father was in jail. Your father sent me down to have a talk, brought the private solicitor. The deal he made with the courts was that Nathan went to rehab for 60 days and attended anger management."

"Why not just let John be taken into custody?" Sherlock's mouth was dry.

"Oh, yes great idea. Why hadn't we thought of that. Because Sherlock, he would be sent to one of those boy's homes? Like Haven House, yeah they really turned out some winners. He wouldn't have lasted long. This was easier. His father went and John's aunt came to stay. That had been fun; you know that woman wanted a monthly stipend, as incentive. She was ridiculous. Then Nathan returned and that witch left to London to her Sherry and her cats. It seemed pretty quiet. Then I dropped your friend off at the hospital remember how Nathan just walked right in, he ignored us. I dropped you and Mycroft off and headed out to have a chat. The bastard wasn't home, I waited I could see John shoveling the driveway he looked fine. So I left." Royce shook his head.

"A mistake. A mistake that haunts me."

"It wasn't your fault that John's father was-"

Royce shook his head, waving off the justification. " I had a talk with him that night. Dropped him off at rehab in the city, picked up the boy's aunt. Reminded her of the deal. You have to understand your father was busy dealing with your mother's failed suicides, your rambunctious ways and his business obligations. He told me to handle the problem. I did. Then he agreed to give in to Mycroft's idea. It worked beautifully. Your professors adored John and the progress you were making we both thought it was all going to be alright. Then the park-" Royce clinched his jaw. Sherlock recalled that day, it sent a cold shiver up his spine.

"I remember. When you kicked John's father, you said something to him, what was it?"

"This isn't over. We'll talk later." Royce's lip curled, and the younger Holmes heard the icy warning.

"And you did."

"Yes, and your father flew all the way back from Brussels for that chat."

"Why? Why would father care?" Royce shrugged

"Maybe he cared or maybe he just didn't like the fact that man did not heed his warning. I may have gone a little overboard, shattered his knee."

"He had it coming." Sherlock nodded.

"The final straw was University." Royce tossed his rags into the now empty bucket near the clean tires. "John returned home just as you did, except you didn't stay more than a few hours. I don't know what their argument was over. I received a call from my brother and his young wife, they'd come to visit for the week, before he was deployed. They said they'd picked up a young hitchhiker and dropped him off at campus. I scolded them on picking up strangers. But then Mycroft received your text and I knew just who they picked up. So I informed your father, and Mycroft took care of the town police." Royce smiled with a distant look in his eyes.

"You should have seen the bastard. Nathan looked worse for wear, clearly John had finally fought back. Son of a bitch deserved worse." Sherlock only nodded in agreement.

"Mycroft had the solicitor pacify the police. After the donations your father made over the years to the library and the public pool they were happy to oblige. I asked your father if he wanted me to go down to the clink have a chat. He said no. Not to worry about he would take care of it. He knew about your drug use, the fact that John talked to Mycroft. No one knew what to do, your father was so angry when your mother died. Mycroft sank into his work, you just drifted further away. It was important someone was there.

Of course it was convenient that the young man was a doctor." Royce leaned against the expensive black car. "When I heard about the car accident. I knew that it had been arranged. It was the only way, that man was so broken. And he was so hell bent on breaking John. I would have done it, I'd of gladly disappeared the man or cut those breaks. But it wasn't me. You wouldn't know it but your father thought of John as a third son."
"The son he always wanted." Sherlock mused.
"No, he loved you and Mycroft. He just didn't know how to show it. He tried to talk sense into you, but you wouldn't hear it. I remember he hoped your falling out would be mended. But it wasn't was it? Then he found out about his cancer. So naturally he grew distant. He thought it better to cut ties at that point. He was going to give you time to clean up, to straighten out. He thought it best that your habits not destroy more lives. Some time later a year maybe two, and I received a phone call from my brother in the army around that time. Imagine my surprise when Tyler was telling me about this mad young doctor that pulled him free from a humvee's wreckage. He said he hardly recognized the young man, but the way he spoke. It was the hitchhiker they'd dropped off at the university. He was sure of it. Your father didn't want to believe it. So he called his military contacts. Imagine our surprise."

"Why didn't he tell me? If I had known." Sherlock's brow wrinkled

"You're a smart man Sherlock, I'm sure you already deduced that answer."

"I want to hear you say it." Sherlock replied coolly.

"He thought Doctor Watson should be free of the burden we placed on him. All the manipulation, the bribes and lying. He said to me that John didn't deserved to be treated like a toy, to be thrown aside and forgotten. He had hoped you would come to your senses."

"Why didn't he try and have John stationed-"

"Oh, yes. Unlike you and Mycroft. Your father understood your friend. John was there to prove he could make his own way. Who are you to decide John's decisions shouldn't be respected. After all the meddling we did-no your father only kept tabs on him. He decided we'd done enough damage." Royce crossed his arms over his chest, his face pinched. " When General Robinson called to let us know the Doctor had been injured and was at the Queens Hospital your father was too ill to travel. And his mind was deteriorating. When we heard that Mycroft had gone we knew you would follow. Your father doesn't have much time Sherlock. Couldn't you find it in you to forgive the man? He only did what he thought was right for you."

"He was a fool." Sherlock snapped.

"Yes. He was. And you of all people should know the mistakes fools are capable of."

"I'm not my father." Sherlock left the garage wanting to find John, to tell him all he learned. He heard Mycroft and John talking in the library, Sherlock decided to wait. Instead he went to father's room.