"Where did you go last night?" Peter asked absently sitting in Sherlock's chair much to his annoyance, and Peter, of course, did it purposely to annoy him. It was the little things that really made their little game worth playing. Jen was ignoring them both as she seemed to be looking at the paper again. What was she always doing with the paper these days? Part of her wasn't even reading the paper; she was just pretending to read to it to avoid having to be part of their little spats.
"That isn't your business," Sherlock informed him too tired to play his wretched games; what exactly his games were were just out of Sherlock's grasp making him more edgy than usual, and after last night, Sherlock's body was drained. He hated the feeling especially with his mind feeling just as sluggish. This was the problem with love, and it drove him mad knowing that no one else could see this hindrance.
"Really?" Peter asked with a mischievous smile. He had been eavesdropping the night before; that was no surprise. Any little piece of information to use against Holmes was worth the effort in gathering it. "Because I distinctively heard yelling and crying. Then you left as soon as Gina went to bed. What were you arguing about?"
"Mind your own business," Sherlock snapped at him. Dear lord, how long was expected to stay in the same flat as this child? He was purposely trying to scramble his mind, and with everything going on around him, Peter's game was more of an annoyance than anything.
"What goes on in my sister's life is my business?" Peter told him with a provoking smile. He was just dying to wrap his hands around Holmes's throat; he was begging for it. He would get the opportunity; Peter would make sure of that.
"Peter, don't get on his nerves. It makes life harder than it already has to be," Jen told him deciding their little argument had gone on long enough. Before anymore could be said, the sound of feet running up the stairs echoed on the stairway bouncing into the room. Jen glanced up to the girl, who came bounding in followed by her father.
"Ginny, look what dad got me!" Lucy exclaimed showing her a stuffed bear. Jen gave her a gentle smile as she stood to go closer to her.
"Aren't you a little old for those?" Peter asked her bitterly. He was just so thrilled to have more people interrupting him with their idiotic thoughts.
"Oh, shut up, Peter. You're just jealous because we never got toys as children," she said rolling her eyes as she leaned down to look at the bear and Lucy properly. "I always wanted one those Victorian dolls' houses when I was a child," she smiled sadly at the bear. "Never had much of a childhood. What's the occasion?" she asked standing up straight once again as Mark stepped into the flat.
"I got a promotion," he told her happily.
"Oh," she said happily throwing her arms around him and giving him a kiss making both Peter and Sherlock grimace in disgust. At least, they agreed on something. "Congratulations."
"I have something for you as well," he said fishing a black velvet case out of his pocket. She resisted the urge to cringe hating receiving jewelry ever since she was young. She couldn't really say why she did exactly; she just did.
"You didn't have to," she told him trying to be police as she took the jewelry box from him and opened it. Inside was a sapphire crystal bracelet. "It's beautiful," she said with a smile kissing Mark again.
"You hate jewelry. You thinks it's an overrated superficial mark of society's materialism," Sherlock happily reminded causing Mark's face to fall. He knew far too much about her and just wouldn't keep his mouth shut. How could he help tearing little holes into the fabric of a relationship he didn't think should exist.
"You especially hate bracelets," Peter added on happily watching this man squirm under their scrutiny. Yes, he hated Holmes, but he would gladly team up with him to destroy the man currently having sex with his sister. "You find them to be a hindrance, and you despise bracelets as they touch a rather venerable part of your body: the wrist."
"Rightfully so," Sherlock concluded adding on to Peter's analysis. "I once had to deal with a case that involved a woman slashing her own wrists with a bracelet. Quite by accident of course."
"Will you two shut up?!" Jen snapped at them forcing them both to fall silent or else risk being subjected to her anger. They were getting on her last nerve, and she wasn't stupid. She knew what they were trying to do; it was no surprise. "Dear lord, they've been driving me insane. By the end of this all, I'm going to be the psychopath."
"Um… Sherlock and I have met but…?" he glanced at Peter, who waved mockingly at him. Mark cringed slightly knowing that there was something completely off about him. He was handsome enough with an amiable face, but there was something dead in his eyes, something completely without remorse.
"My younger brother Peter," she offered with a half wave toward him. He seemed less than pleased at the poor introduction. "He's on parole."
"Oh, I've heard a lot about you," Mark told him glancing at Jen slightly confused, which she didn't respond to, before offering a hand as he took several steps toward Peter. He had heard nothing about Peter, in truth, and was just being polite. Jen had been quite quiet about her abnormal family seeking not to scare him away; in fact, Mark thought she was an only child even an orphan when she bluntly said she had no parents.
"Really? I've heard nothing about you," Peter said dully staring at his hands making no effort to be friendly. Why should he be cordial? This man was of no interest to him. "Let me take a guess though. You met Gina not long before the fall, and you found her stunning when you first met her. After all, who wouldn't? Gina's not particularly attractive, but she has an air that draws anyone with mild intelligence in. When Sherlock faked his death, you stepped in and comforted her as mean to get her in her bed. Surprise, surprise. A low move but not an opportunity you would want to miss; this may have been the only chance you would have. My sister, being the person she is, accepted your advances with little enthusiasm except perhaps for the first night since she hadn't had sex in years. Gina has spurred all further advance in your relationship as she doesn't really like you that much. Sound about right?"
"Actually, we're moving in together once her lease is up," Mark ground out trying to be patient with the brother he had heard nothing about. He wasn't even sure if Peter really was her brother; they shared practically no features he could see.
"For now," he remarked coolly.
"Ignore him," Jen told Mark with a sigh. "He's bored having been in a mental institution for too long." Mark glanced at her with a questioning look again wondering where this was all coming from. She just shrugged knowing she'll be answering some questions later.
"What was he doing in there?" Lucy asked looking at Peter curiously.
"I killed people," Peter told her flatly looking at the small girl. "Be careful. You could be next." He half lunged at her making Lucy gasped and hid behind her father as he fell back in his chair.
"Peter!" Jen shouted reprimanding him. "Leave her alone!" He rolled his eyes before he waved her off.
"Do you want to go to dinner and get out of this madhouse?" Mark asked her. He had questions for her, and he thought he deserved answers. Where did this brother come from, and was he really in an institution for killing people? She sighed and shook her head.
"Love to, but I can't leave Peter and Sherlock alone together, and I can't leave them alone separately. Lord knows the chaos I would come back to," she groaned. She could not fathom if the flat would even still be a flat when she came back. She wasn't sure if the occupants would still be alive. There would be hell to pay if she decided to take time for herself.
"Bring them with then. I don't care," Mark rolled his eyes. "I haven't spent time with you since you got back."
"You really want a psychopath and sociopath at dinner with us?" she asked him glancing between Sherlock and Peter.
"Does it mean I get to spend time with you?" he grinned making her smile and shake her head. Sometimes, he was too nice to her; she didn't deserve it.
"Alright, fine," she muttered giving in without much effort; she needed to get out and do something. "You two," she snapped at sociopath and psychopath, "get ready. We're going to dinner."
"Rather not," Sherlock told her.
"Seems dull," Peter finished.
"You two don't have a choice," she told them. "Dinner! Now!" The two scrambled up being quick to put on their jackets and shoes as Mark helped Jen slid her red coat on, and Lucy giggled at Jen's command and their response.
"I love when you do that," Mark whispered to her as kissed her cheek.
"Do you? Maybe I'll start ordering you about then," she teased as she pulled on a set of black gloves as she turned to face him.
"Sounds uh," he muttered pulling her by her belt loop into a kiss.
"Can we go?" Peter asked harshly wanting to break the two apart. He didn't like this Mark.
"Yeah," Jen said happily. The five of them made their way down to the street and decided to walk to the corner café as it wasn't terribly cold outside. Jen was holding Lucy's hand in one of hers; the girl was starting to get too old to have her hand held, but Jen was adamant to keep it up. In her other, she held Mark's. Sherlock and Peter lingered behind them.
"So is he really your brother?" Mark asked her looking quickly behind him at the taller man, who was walking beside Holmes talking to him. "He looks nothing like you."
"He's my half-brother," she answered and then decided to amend her statement, "but never saw him as my half-brother. He's always been my little brother through and through."
"And he... he's really been in an institution for killing people?" Mark asked wondering what he had gotten himself into.
"Rampton. He's the serial killer known as The Carver," she answered simply. There was no other way to answer him; she could not beat around the bush.
"And you never mentioned you had a brother because?" How to explain to him what he couldn't possibly understanding. His family was normal; for God's sake, they had Christmas dinner together. Her family were mental patients and terrorists.
"Actually, I have two brothers: one older, one younger as well as a younger sister, and the reason I didn't tell you is, because my younger brother is a serial killer, my older brother is the sociopathic German government, and my younger sister is a blackmailing dominatrix. If that doesn't tell you why I didn't tell you about my siblings, I'm not sure your as sane as you think you are." She sighed rubbing her forehead; she avoided this topic cutting off any questioning at the beginning of their relationship, and now, it was biting her in the ass.
"And your mother and father?" he questioned now knowing that she was, in fact, not an orphan.
"Anti-personality disorder flake of a whore and schizophrenic alcoholic," she replied.
"And you?" he questioned. He was not an idiot if there was something wrong with them, well, then there was little chance there was nothing wrong with her. He was wondering what else she had avoided telling him..
"Borderline Personality Disorder with an emphasis in psychopathic rage," she answered.
"Oh...," he replied blinking a few times trying to fit the description with Jen but was failing. She was one of the calmest people he knew, and now he was wondering if she was sane enough to remain around his daughter. She laughed ending his worries when he looked down to see her gentle smile.
"I'm medicated," she informed him not bothering to tell him she hadn't taken her medication for several years. It was sitting scattered in her bathroom drawer likely expired.
"Oh," he said more brightly putting his arm around her. She leaned in to him ever so slightly.
"How can you deal with that?" Peter asked distastefully hanging back walking along Sherlock as he eyed the couple distastefully. Peter and Sherlock hated each other; that was obvious, but they had a mutual begrudging respect for each other and a mutual hatred of Mark made this arrangement decently pleasant. "I mean I want nothing more than to see the flesh slip off your bones, but I'd rather you were fucking her than him."
"Your lack of intellectual jargon is so appealing," Sherlock replied bitterly sarcastic rolling his eyes.
"Oh, shut up," Peter snapped. "You know what I mean. I mean look at him," he gestured to Mark. There was nothing wrong with him; he was a rather decent specimen perhaps of average height with blonde hair and a rather decently sculpted face and body. "He's so normal," Peter spat. "Normal people so easy to play with; it's adorable really."
"And if you had it your way-"
"My sister would be devoted to me and completely ignore the idea of relationship. Unfortunately, she is sexual by nature, though, generally she has a weakness for psychopaths. They're the ones who get under her skin. Her fiancé, the one that Irene fucked, he was a paranoid schizophrenic. Undiagnosed, of course, but it was obvious. Of course, she never loved him. Actually, Freud would say she became engaged to him because she missed our father, a paranoid schizophrenic."
"What about Christopher?" Sherlock asked him. There was a blank patch in that particular side of her history; any research he had done on him had been in vein, and any questions he had about him had been snub. She had no desire to talk about the only other man she claimed to have loved. "She doesn't talk about him."
"Chris?" Peter asked searching for the memories of one of the men he admired most. "I liked him; if anyone was worthy of my sister, it was him, a shame really about his death. He was a psychopath; he liked the power he had over my sister, and he liked when she took control, and she fought for power over him. It gave him hard-on."
"You liked him because he was you," Sherlock told him obviously with a slight satisfaction in his assessment. "You have an Oedipeus Complex. Of course, your sister would be the mother in this case since she did practically raise you."
"God, I hate psychology," he growled. "I had to spend years in Rampton with psychologist trying to cram psychoanalyses down my throat, and yes, they did include the possibility of me being incestuously in love with my sister, thanks."
"A sound assessment," Sherlock told him smugly before he nearly slammed the door of the café into his face in annoyance.
"Getting along?" Jen asked the two raising an eyebrow at the two as she waited for them to enter. In retrospect letting them talk, not her best idea.
"Quite surprisingly, except for when the love of your life tried to psychoanalyze me, yes," Peter said with a smile as Mark gave him a look of distaste at him commenting about Sherlock being the love of her life, which Peter replied with a childlike wave.
"Peter, stop it," she reprimanded again making him give her a heavy sigh.
"Ordinary people are so sensitive; it's nauseating," he grumbled.
"Agreed," Sherlock replied.
The arrangement was tricky as Jen didn't want Peter near Lucy or Mark, and frankly, she didn't want him near Sherlock either, but there was no stopping that. So that place Peter between Sherlock and Jen. Jen didn't want Mark near Sherlock or Peter putting him next to her and Lucy between Sherlock and Mark, a place she was happy to be.
The dinner was rather silent besides idle chitchat between herself and Mark as well as Lucy questioning where Sherlock had been since his supposed death. Peter watched them all with distaste that seemed leave his mouth dry with a vile residue left in place of saliva. His sister, his sister who had once accompanied him in his killing spree, was sitting there idly chatting with a normal man, an idiot. It sickened him.
Dinner ended, and Peter hung back watching Jen as she held onto Lucy as if she was her child. The girl grinned up at Jen admirably, and the emotions swelling off her: the love, the admiration, the adoration, made him nauseous. It was all fluff and cotton candy; the small girl hadn't known pain as far as he could tell. By the time he was her age, he had already started killing animals and was regularly planning the death of his classmates. By the time he was her age, his mother had already left, his father had become a boozer, and his elder brother had left them all behind in some false attempt at a better life. By the time he was her age, he was already twisted and deformed and just wanted to hear the world scream his name, not in joy, but in pain, in a plead of mercy that he wouldn't give. He pitied her ignorance as if it was a disease.
"Jenma," the girl sung out making him cringe. When did she get permission to call his sister that? That was reserved for Irene and himself. That name was reserved for family not little leeches that latched on trying suck every emotion out of the woman, little snake. "Will you come to my piano recital?"
"Of course, honey," she cooed bringing the girl closer to her and kissing the top of her head as they continued walking along. Peter felt his hand twitch; this had to end. This peace was sickening; the adoration mocking the woman Peter knew was under that happily little facade she built. They stopped at 221 to depart; she held up a single finger to Mark before she ran over to Sherlock and Peter, who had been walking behind them again. "Can you two last for one night without me?" she asked them.
"Why?" Peter asked her though he could guess why. Jen sighed heavily not wanting to play his mind games.
"If you must know, I would like to go back to Mark's place and have sex. Can I have one night with my boyfriend?" she asked them letting her jaw clench.
"No," Sherlock and Peter said at the same time making her shake her head.
"Excuse me?" she asked with a slight growl.
"You leave I'll kill him, literally," Peter informed her.
"Not if I kill you first," Sherlock replied viciously making the two stare each other down. Jen shook her head putting her hand to her forehead.
"Really? Really? One night is all I'm asking," she sighed looking between the two.
"No," Peter said authoritatively. She rolled her eyes.
"Know what? Go ahead and kill each other," she told them with a raise of her hands in surrender. "I'm going to have a nice night with my boyfriend. Have fun; I will be." She left with Lucy and Mark much to the annoyance of Sherlock and Peter.
"I want to make one thing clear," Peter told Sherlock as he turned to him knowing that tonight wouldn't be the night Sherlock Holmes drew his last breath. "The only reason you're going to survive the night is because currently, you're the only thing standing in the way of Mark and Gina going off and getting married at a fucking courthouse."
"If we're being clear," Sherlock replied mockingly. "I intend to use tonight and whatever happens won't necessarily be on me." He had made that decision as soon as he felt the hole in his chest start to reopen the minute Mark stepped through the door. If he couldn't end their relationship, well, then he could at least block it out or hope to.
"What are we using?" Peter asked him.
"We?" Sherlock asked.
"If you're getting high, so I am I. I'm not being left with vivid images of my sister fucking some idiot."
"You're a serial killer," Sherlock reminded him knowing the lecture he would get from Jen or anyone for that matter if they found out what he and Peter were planning. In retrospect, he sort of didn't mind getting that lecture from her. She didn't control him; he did what he wanted. He wouldn't be controlled by some foolish notion of love. Unaware that, that was exactly what was happening.
"You're close enough," Peter snorted. "What are we using?" he asked again.
"Cocaine. I've been sober for ten years… now seems like a perfect time to dip back in," he replied seeming elated at the idea as well as anxious and upset. Peter rolled his eyes disappointed in the sentiment of it. He was trying to get over Jen by using; how cliché.
"I'm all for it," Peter told him with a grin ready to start the night. If he could kill anyone, using might just take his mind off of it.
A/N: So this did not come out like I wanted it to. Ugh. Isn't that the worst? I'm just so blah lately. Blah. My mind is very, very hazy right now, so sorry if there are errors on such as after reading this three times, I cannot bear to read again. Thinking about getting a beta reader. I have never used one in my life and have no idea how to go about that, but I'm getting sick of reading a hundred times over especially when I'm not feeling well, but I'm dedicated to get a story out when I say I will. So there's that.
This is also the last of the Wednesday chapters as I have started school again. Updates will be on Saturdays or Sundays, one a week.
Thanks to reviewers: flaming-amber, short-skirtbluescarf, knetterzak, Liberty Blake, Feint Illusion, and hannahhobnob. Review please, and I'll see you all Saturday!