_*_*_Sherlock_*_*_
Minutes went by Sherlock crushed John to him waiting for the explosion, waiting for wither pain or just a sudden end. He felt John quiver against him and they still waited. Sherlock opened his eyes confused surly enough time had gone by and they should be a fiery inferno.
Slowly he realized that indeed too much time had gone, too much. Where was the heat, the flames, the raining of body parts? Sherlock pulled away from the little doctor to glance down at the time. It wasn't counting down anymore. It was now flashing the word 'Surprise'.
Surprise!
Sherlock read glaring at the word.
"No boom?" John asked hopefully.
Sherlock pulled his eyes from the insufferable word "No boom," he replied feeling relief go through him.
"Surprised indeed," a voice said in amusement catching the two men's attention.
Sherlock turned to look stunned to find Nikki standing before them but not the usual Nikki. The woman in front of them wore tight black jeans, a matching leather jacket, and knee-high, high heeled boots.
She was also pointing a gun at them "Nikki?" Sherlock asked seeing a smirk on her face though not the playful smirk he was used to.
"Hello Sherlock dear having a rough day, are we." She spoke with a perfect British accent.
She leveled the gun at them and Sherlock instinctively shifted in front of John. Nikki noted the movement her smirk grew "How adorable! A broken army doctor turned pet and a defective sociopath," she mocked stepping closer, "I did so enjoy watching you and your pet but I'm sorry to say that my time is done here." Her voice had a hysterical cheerful edge to it. Her eyes narrowed "The Son gives his regards," Nikki added pulling the trigger.
The gun shot echoed followed by screams and running of the people nearby Sherlock flinched expecting fiery pain but it was John who cried out.
"John!" Sherlock cried just as a louder ground shaking sound exploded through the air.
Sherlock's eyes were drawn to a ball of fire erupting into the sky several blocks from them. Forcing his attention back to John Sherlock saw the doctor clutching a bleeding led. Moving quickly Sherlock ripped a strip from his coat wrapping it tightly around the bullet wound. With that in place Sherlock glanced around but Nikki had vanished.
A little over half an hour later Sherlock had somehow managed to get a cab to take him and the bleeding ex-soldier to St. Bart's where John was immediately transferred into surgery to get the bullet removed from his leg. Sherlock was forcibly moved into the waiting room where he now paced his nerves on end. As he went over the events in his mind Sherlock had a stray thought reminding him to send an assuring text to Lestrade to let him know that they were alive.
Got John, St. Bart's. – SH
He deemed those words sufficient enough to tide the D.I.'s worry as he went back to his pacing. 'The Son sends his regards' Nikki had said. Who was this 'son'? How had Nikki tricked him so thoroughly? How was all of this connected? These questions raced through his mind. The murders had been a message but not for him but for who? The building that was blown up, what was it?
"Mr. Holmes?" a voice brought Sherlock back to the waiting room. A doctor stood in the doorway looking him over.
"Yes," Sherlock answered striding towards him.
"John Watson just got out of surgery and has been asking for you," the man told him, "It can't be too long he needs to rest," the doctor added before leading Sherlock through down the hall to some double doors.
Once in John's room the doctor left "There you are," John mumbled a tired smile on his face.
Sherlock returned the smile as realization hit him. They were going to be alright.
"Doctor says the leg will be back to normal quickly though it might be a little stiff." John told him stifling a yawn. Sherlock moved closer to the bed taking the seat nearby.
They sat in blissful silence Sherlock watched his friend thinking he had fallen asleep before brown eyes opened to look at him.
"I was scared," John said quietly turning his head to look out the window, "I was scared that you would come and that you would be there when the bomb went off," he brought his eyes back to Sherlock. "And when you showed up it was the worse feeling that I have ever felt. It was like my heart had been ripped from my chest. That terror I felt just with the thought of losing you was overwhelming." His voice broke with emotion.
"John I am a consulting detective and as long as I can run I will continue to do that," Sherlock told him curious to know if his friend was tempting to ask him to stop being a detective.
"Sherlock I would never ask you to give up something you love," John assured as if he could read Sherlock's mind.
"Good," He said hearing a sigh come from John.
A brief silence fell over them "Did you mean it?" John suddenly asked.
"Yes John, I won't give up being a consulting detective." Sherlock replied slightly annoyed.
"No. I mean before at the Tower when we both though we were going to die," John clarified.
Sherlock thought back to those last few moments of life-threatening tension, hearing John's confession and feeling like his heart was about to explode from happiness.
"Yes," Sherlock answered slowly leaning forward John smiled nervously a blush creeping into his cheeks. "How long have you known?" Sherlock asked curious having never paid any attention to situations involving relationships before.
John didn't answer right away looking as if he were giving the question some real thought. When he did speak his words were specifically chosen "I think it really hit home when you came back," John's eyes stayed on Sherlock's as he spoke, "I think Mary knew that too," He added.
Sherlock held a small knowing smile on his face he had noted the change in John since coming back. He saw the lingering stares, the constant worry, and the dilatation of the doctor's pupils these things had gone down into the 'John room' in Sherlock's mind palace.
John's fingers intertwined with Sherlock's. The taller man glanced down at their hands feeling absolute comfort "I do love you John," he told the man looking back to him, "I couldn't imagine my life without you. That's way I came back. I had to fight every day to keep myself from calling you and when I came back…"Sherlock paused collecting himself, "and I saw you with Mary…I was happy that you had someone who made you happy and who would keep you safe." He fell quiet.
John watched Sherlock "I was happy but I'm feel more at home with you. I wouldn't give that up for safe." John said unable to fight off another yawn.
Sherlock squeezed the smaller man's hand "Get some sleep my dear doctor," he encouraged kissing the back of John's hand.
The older man lay on his side gripping Sherlock's hand a soft smile on his lips. It wasn't long before the doctor was snoring softly. Sherlock sat watching content with the comfortable silence. His thoughts drifted thinking over how far he and John had come agreeing with Nikki's deceptive description 'a broken army doctor' and 'defective sociopath'.
John had been broken. Sherlock first deduction was John's signs of pending suicide if he remained alone. Within the first few days of living at 221B Sherlock watched the man's drastic improvements. He had been fascinated how only human interaction had changed the doctor.
Then there was Sherlock the self-proclaimed sociopath, a concept he had come to embrace as a child. He did indeed feel though he had trained himself to hide those emotions for times he was alone. The broken army doctor and defective sociopath were fitting for the pair but they had ruined each other in a good way.
"Sherlock," a familiar voice spoke softly.
Sherlock didn't need to look to know his brother was standing behind him to the doorway of the room. "Mycroft not here for a sentimental visit are we?" Sherlock mocked knowing his brother all too well.
Mycroft didn't speak though his lingering presence let Sherlock know he hadn't left "I would like a word with you where we won't be a disturbance," Mycroft told him slowly.
Sherlock had been expecting snide and arrogance turning he looked to see his brother's eyes on John. The look in his brother's face spoke volumes "Very well," Sherlock gave in standing reluctant to let go of John's hand. Leaning down Sherlock kissed the sleeping man's forehead. Turning he saw his brother looked thoroughly stunned. Smirking Sherlock strolled past him heading for the door.
Once both brothers were out in the hall Sherlock looked Mycroft over. He was out of sorts! The man was jittery, shaky, and visibly sweating.
"What has happened?" Sherlock found himself asking. He was stunned to see his brother so stressed. Never had he seen Mycroft like this. The older Holmes prided himself on being the picture of calm, cool, and collected.
Mycroft took a deep breath "The worse possible event in modern history," he answered Sherlock saw no amusement in his brother's words knowing Mycroft rarely joke. "The explosion earlier," he began clutching his umbrella tightly turning his knuckles white, "It was a secret hub for national secrets," his face paled almost choking on the words. "Your three murders over the past weeks was a message," Mycroft locked eyes with Sherlock, "A message meant for me that I regret to say I missed until it was too late. Dekin Match Company was a front company disbanded in the 90's."
Sherlock's ears mentally perked "Front company?" he repeated.
Mycroft nodded weakly, "A criminal consulting agency." He breathed.
Sherlock tensed. "Moriarty!" he hissed stepping closer to his brother, "You mean to tell me that Moriarty had a front company in the 90's and you didn't think to tell me!" Sherlock growled.
Mycroft didn't flinch looking the least bit intimidated. "That information was not needed to be known," he shot adding a glare.
Sherlock returned the glare "Are you sure Moriarty is dead?" he asked noting that his brother didn't seemed surprised by the question.
"Yes, you watched his shoot himself," Mycroft answered though Sherlock was sure he was hiding something.
"And I jumped in front of John yet here I stand," Sherlock threw back smoothly.
Mycroft narrowed his eyes "Those were different circumstances Sherlock!" he growled.
"So Moriarty's fan club is tormenting you?" Sherlock said bringing them back to the starting topic.
Mycroft's glare deepened "Not as dramatic as that but in a way yes. Though they won't be causing only me problems but most of the world as well." He corrected.
Sherlock sighed wishing to get to the point of this conversation "So what do you want from me Mycroft?" he asked knowing that this was the reason his had come.
Mycroft gave him a look hard look before speaking "Help me Sherlock," the older brother managed forcing himself to say the next words, "I need your help. You and Dr. Watson."
The End
*Will be a sequel.