16th July 2005
Sherlock's POV
He's twitchy, impatient to get where he's going but doesn't bother trying to get the driver to go faster because he realizes this is one of those people who never goes over the speed limit. When they get there, something feels off, he just doesn't know what until he slides out of the car and spots Jim leaning casually against the wall in a suit as if he owns the place.

—I think your brother is an idiot for a genius.— is the first thing the agent states, eyes narrow on him.

—How? — he responds, not talking about his brother and knowing that Jim will understand.

Snorting, the spy waves a lazy hand towards one of the street cameras they are just out of view from.

He growls softly in frustration, how could he have forgotten that Jasper works for MI5 and MI6 as a hacker and analyst, not just as an agent? He's so stupid. So slow and just not intelligent. His brother's right. He is a fool.

"Stop." The single word is spoken softly but with the expectation of being obeyed, it cuts through the thoughts running through his head faster than any drug he has ever taken.

Swallowing hard, he blinks at the agent, realizing that Jim has moved closer but he doesn't think he's dealing with Jim right now, he's dealing with Wildcard.

A sharp nod tells him he's right before he even has a chance to ask.

—In the car, and don't bother trying to bolt. I'm faster and know the streets better. — The agent tells him, hand waving towards the car in the other alley, the cab having already left even though he didn't pay.

He still considers it as he does as directed, bristling at the order.

Wildcard slides into the driver's seat and before he's even finished buckle up, they're off, the car flying through the streets far faster than as anywhere close to legal. It's only when they slow down to stop that he realizes Jim didn't take him home. The spy has brought him to John's office.

—Pike notified him we were on the way.— Wildcard tells him once the car is parked.

He nods, swallowing hard, dread filling him. This is it. He'll never see John again because he's a disappointment and a letdown and a failure. He doesn't want to go in there and see that but he has a feeling he doesn't have a choice.

As his feet touch the pavement he considers bolting. He has a pretty good grasp on this area and could probably escape.

—You could try. You wouldn't get far.— The agent tells him with narrow eyes.

Before he has a chance to do anything, the front door opens and the doctor comes striding out. Glancing between them with a curious expression, brow furrowed in concern.

—Come inside, I have hot tea and food waiting,— John remarks, holding the door for him to walk through first.

Hesitantly, because he is definitely not ready for this, he enters the building considering trying to bolt out the back but deciding against it. Instead he heads to John's office, fully expecting that this is not going to like what happens next.

Only things don't end up going the way he expects. John stops him before he reaches the office with a light touch on the shoulder. —Upstairs. —

He blinks because they do not hold meetings upstairs in the doctor's home. They hold them in the office. Still, he goes as directed, startled when he discovers four cups and four plates already set out along a coffee table.

—Go ahead and pick one,—John suggests, taking the one that's the furthest away.

—I don't understand, — he states, confused because this is not how he expected whatever this is to go. Who's the fourth plate for? He's pretty sure it's not Mycroft, so it must be Jasper.

Taking the one with the least amount of food, he settles in the corner of the couch with it.

Jim doesn't say anything as the agent selects a plate and settles in the armchair.

Less than ten minutes later Jasper taps at the fire escape window, before letting himself in.

That window was locked. He thinks in shock, how'd Jasper get through the lock.

—Some people should not be agents or handlers because they lack the brains God gave a snail. — Pike grumbles as he grabs the remaining plate, flashing a quick thank you to John.

The meal is quiet. Some would even call it peaceful though he feels his stomach knotting with every minute that passes without someone saying something. Even more than that, is when he looks at the other three none of them read as disappointed. Not surprising with Jim and Jasper, the two agents excel at masking what they are thinking and feeling, he rarely gets any sort of read on them. It is surprising with John. He thought for sure his friend would be disappointed and yet all he is seeing is understanding, that has to be wrong.

—It's not, — Wildcard comments as the spy sets his plate aside. —Your mind is attempting to play a trick on you.—

—As I cannot look at people and know what they are thinking, please fill me in,— John requests with the hints of a smile.

—Sherlock is convinced that he's missing signs of disappointment from you. —Jim replies calmly.

John immediately turns towards him, speaking almost before their eyes meet. —It's saddening that you tried to find drugs rather than discuss the feels that drove you that way with one of us, but it's understandable and I cannot be disappointed. Addiction, particularly strong ones, can be the hardest to break because they're like a quiet siren in the background always luring closer and closer. —

He just stares, because he has a hard time understanding. Everyone is always disappointed in him. He does nothing right. John has to be lying. Yet.

He swallows hard, eyes darting between the three and not seeing any of the signs he expects to out of them. He doesn't know what to do and finds his eyes getting heavy. He almost thinks that he's been drugged but that's not possible. Is it? His thoughts get cloudy, and the last thing he wonders is which one did it.

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