Apologize – Timbaland
I'd take another chance /
Take a fall take a shot for you /
Didn't think I'd turn around and say /
It's too late to apologize.
John was wedding shopping with Mycroft because he didn't know anyone better to choose a good suit. It was about his limit on wedding planning business, as much as he liked the idea of marrying Mary he didn't so much appreciated the huge about of planning that went into the event.
It was as he admired Mycroft's latest choice in the mirror that he heard the gasp of surprise and the thump of the body hitting the wall, in the reflection he could see Mycroft's white face and expression of shock and he slid down until he was sat on the floor. John was immediately on guard, anything that could scare Mycroft had to be really bad. With one hand reaching for his gun, which of course, nobody actually knew about if anyone asked, and jumped out, aiming directly between the eyes of an equally startled Sherlock Holmes.
Black curls waving around as he instinctively jerked his head back, striking blue-grey eyes wide, scarf ruffled by the sudden movement, and at a first glance not changed at all. For some reason, John's first reaction was anger, not at seeing Sherlock alive, but at seeing him supposedly unchanged when John had gone through the worst time of his life in the days following the 'incident' as he had termed it.
"John?" Sherlock's tentative voice broke through John's red haze and he realised suddenly that the gun was still pointed at Sherlock's face.
"What?" John's terse reply clearly unsettled his old flat mate further.
"Could you possibly put the gun down please?" John wasn't sure what startled him more, the genuine look of fear in Sherlock's eyes or the fact that he had actually said please.
As Sherlock hadn't moved since John's abrupt appearance the sudden rustle of cloth behind him had John's military focus change target and down the sight he found himself face to face with an equally surprised brown-haired women wrapped in a double-breasted coat and a beanie hat. Green eyes as startling as Sherlock's swam in front of him. Slowly, he watched as Sherlock's arm came across her body and pushed her back behind him.
"Kate, please."
"But this was my idea."
"Kate!" Sherlock's voice turned sharper, warning, "You promised to do what I said in situations like this." Not once did Sherlock break eye contact with the ex-solider.
"Lock?" Mycroft was the one to break the terse situation. Pulling himself to his feet, the elder Holmes brother seemed to have regained his wits and in one smooth movement that John vaguely recognised as a form of martial art, removed the gun from John's hands, which then fell limply to his sides.
Mycroft contemplated the weapon in his hand. John, now feeling much like an outsider, shock his mind informed him, watched as Sherlock's fear increased and he physically took a step back, pushing Kate more firmly behind him. Mycroft also saw the movement and realised that his own brother was scared of him, returned his gaze to the gun with a look of disgust, he flicked the safety on and threw the weapon away. Sherlock visibly relaxed.
With a noise halfway between a sob and a whimper Mycroft, showing more athleticism than he had in a long time, darted forwards and embrace his younger sibling, burying his head into the startled younger man's shoulder.
For a moment John thought Sherlock was experiencing a flashback. He had frozen, his gaze distant, face frightened.
"Sherlock." Kate's tone was sharp and sudden, jerking Sherlock out of his trance and he hesitantly encircled his own arms about his brother's waist.
"You've lost weight." Sherlock murmured in concern, Mycroft snorted humourlessly into Sherlock's hair.
"So have you."
Over his brother's shoulder Sherlock gaze was now fixed on John. Being under Sherlock's scrutinising gaze was too much. John couldn't deal with his deductions, not now, not after what Sherlock had done to him. It felt like he had been in a daze since Mycroft's interruption had thrown him off balance, now his anger came flooding back. He had to get out.
Moving quickly forwards he brushed past the reunited brothers, making sure to hit Sherlock's shoulder hard. His fury blinded him so much that he missed Sherlock's abrupt gasp of breath, missed seeing his face crease in pain and the quietly spoken exclamation of his name as, despite the renewed agony Sherlock's shoulder was giving him, his hand reached out to try and catch John's coat.
Yanking his sleeve out of Sherlock's grip, John hurried out of the shop, missing Mycroft and Kate lunging to catch the ailing detective as the abrupt action ripped the stitches Kate had so carefully put in the night before.
"John, please, I'm sorry let me explain…" John didn't want Sherlock's explanations, he needed time to think, to come with to terms with the resurrection of the man that was once his best friend.
"Sometimes, Sherlock, it's too late to apologise."
Sherlock's broken voice haunted him the entire walk home.
"Mike?" Sherlock sat in Mycroft's office at the Diogenes club, gripping his sibling's hand in a bone breaking grip as Kate tried to repair the damage done to his shoulder. Mycroft gripped back as though he fear his brother would disappear.
"Yes Lock?"
"Will everything be alright?" Mycroft felt like a teenager again, comforting his child brother with false reassurances. How could everything be alright? His brother was back, but he had lost a part of himself.
"Of course Sherlock, everything will be alright in the end." But the path would be long.
A/N: Ok, so in my mind, Mycroft knows nothing about Sherlock's survival and worldwide destruction of Moriarty's network. I always thought it would be interesting to see his reaction. Also, I'm now addicted to this plot bunny. Whoopie.
