A/N: Hi guys, sorry for the long absence. I've just started a new job and I'm beat after work, so I don't know how often I'll update. I'm not giving up! We might get to at least 100. That's my goal. 100 chapters.
Also today is this story's one year anniversary and I can't believe it. Thanks for reading, for staying interested, for putting up with absences and writers block and annoying plot. Hope you still enjoy it and will continue to enjoy it!
"What do you think?"
"It's…spacious."
Mycroft watched his father look around the vast room. The large window's curtains were pulled back, revealing the gorgeous city view that even Mycroft himself appreciated.
"Plenty of room," Clement said.
"Yes, Gregory and I will both have space for our own offices. And…a little extra space."
Mycroft caught Clement's worried look. Mycroft knows that Sherlock's safety comes first, and that being home is what's best for him at this time, but Sherlock had a bedroom in Mycroft's old flat. Why shouldn't he have one in the new flat?
"This location is more than ideal for you two and it's large enough for my family," Clement says. "I can't help but be worried as to how the two of you will afford it."
Slightly annoyed at the question, since Mycroft isn't in a mood to discuss money with his father, he continues anyway. "No doubt you remember my trust will be in my possession by the end of the summer."
"And you're going to spend it all on this?"
"Not all of it," Mycroft argues. "A small fraction, believe it or not. This flat is reasonably priced considering, as you've pointed out, the location and size. We will have to do a few minor upgrades, for example I hate this dreadful wall color, but it's all cosmetic and nothing that can't be easily fixed. As a matter of fact, Gregory is quite excited to be able to put our own mark on the place, as he puts it."
Clement just nods. Mycroft can tell he's uneasy. Apart from knowing his father's nervous expressions, Clement isn't hiding it very well.
Mycroft sighs. "Okay, just come out with it. What is wrong with this place? We've seen eight houses now!"
Clement shakes his head. "Nothing. Nothing's wrong with it, it's…perfect."
Mycroft furrows his eyebrows. "Then why that expression?"
Clement slowly turns to him. "Is it terribly selfish of me to wish you'd just…stay home forever?"
Mycroft can't help but laugh. "Father, forever?! I'm nearly twenty-five!"
"I know, I know! But…" Clement wanders over to the kitchen island to sit at a stool. Mycroft turns his back, looking out the large floor to ceiling window facing the city.
There's a long silence as Mycroft can't think of what to say.
I'm sorry. I need to move on. Let me grow up.
"I'll miss you," Clement mutters.
Mycroft presses his forehead against the glass to peer at the street below. "I know," he softly says.
"He'll miss you."
Mycroft squeezes his eyes shut, angry that his father is using Sherlock against him like this. He wants to tell Clement that Sherlock will understand, that he can visit whenever he wants, that he'll hardly notice Mycroft is gone, but remembering the fight that occurred when Mycroft returned to London after university and moved into his own flat, he can't make any argument that Sherlock will be okay with this. Even though he was fourteen at the time, Sherlock had a complete meltdown when Mycroft bought his first flat. He didn't speak to anyone for weeks, he didn't visit Mycroft's flat for the first six months that Mycroft lived there, and it took a lot to get Sherlock to want to be near Mycroft again. He felt betrayed, and Mycroft knows Sherlock will feel that way again. Especially now.
"I know," Mycroft whispers.
It's been two weeks since they started actually talking again, and John and Sherlock have been inseparable. Even more inseparable than usual. Since it's the summer and Dawn isn't concerned with John's whereabouts, he practically moves in to the Holmes house. Many of his clothes migrate over to Sherlock's house, a permanent toothbrush, even his pillow is taken over at one point.
But they finally begin to get bored with just each other. It's Saturday afternoon, Clement's disappeared somewhere with Mycroft, and the boys lay sprawled over the sofa watching Doctor Who. It says a lot about their state of boredom that they're hardly even touching. John tosses his phone up in the air and catches it, pausing briefly to text every few seconds.
"Who're you talking to?" Sherlock asks out of curiosity.
"Brady."
"Oh," Sherlock says. "You haven't seen him much this summer, have you?"
"No," John answers, texting. "I haven't really seen anyone."
Sherlock frowns, feeling guilty. "John, I apologize that I've taken you away from—"
John looks at Sherlock. "Hey, stop that. You haven't taken me away from anyone, I'm more than glad to be here with you."
"I know you're bored."
"And I know you're bored," John says. "You didn't even put up a fight when I put it on Doctor Who."
Sherlock shrugs. "I know you like it."
John scoots closer to Sherlock and lays on his lap. Sherlock can't help running his hand through John's hair.
"Want to do something?" John asks.
"Like?"
"Well," John says, "Brady's just invited us for laser tag."
Sherlock feels sudden excitement. Laser tag was one of his favorite activities before, and now he really wants to play. It's just the normality he needs to feel comfortable, as he has been feeling for the past few weeks with John.
"Okay," he says. "Sure. When?"
John smiles and quickly texts Brady back, then he pulls Sherlock down for an excited kiss.
They arrive at the arcade hours later, when everyone was able to become available to play. They all hugged Sherlock, and he even welcomed the affection (except from Harvey, because he held on to that hug longer than comfort allowed). They got their usual pizza before renting their gear and sat down to play.
Since Sherlock has hardly seen these people and he's finally getting back to wanting to deduce others, he spends most of their meal observing.
Harvey's gotten to visit his sister.
Jenna's got a faint ring mark on her left ring finger. Perhaps…engagement ring?
He glances at Brady. No sign of anything that would confirm they're hiding an engagement. Maybe she's practicing. Engagement must be something she wants.
Duke has started lifting weights. Probably wants to start getting as buff and large as Dane.
Paris's new job is treating him very well. Taylor is in love with him, but he's not quite there yet.
And Olive…wants to break up with Lane?!
That last one really shocks Sherlock. He wants to take her outside and confront her about it now, but when he moves to stand, the rest follow and they go to the laser tag area.
The kids rent their gear and get situated, and John and Sherlock are put on separate teams. They exchange flirty smiles, then part to join their team. Since it's Saturday night, there are at least a dozen extra people playing along with the group, so when Sherlock joins the team, he meets a few new people. He tires of them quickly, not only because they are new but clearly the boys are way too competitive for this simple game.
The buzzer sounds that the game is going to start in thirty seconds, then an electronic voice comes over the speaker counting down from thirty. Sherlock's used to this, it happens every game, but when the lights dim to complete blackness, he suddenly starts to feel nervous. His heart spikes up a beat faster and he has to take a deep breath to try to calm, but a second later the countdown stops and everyone around him starts to move. One of the new boys bumps into him from the back and Sherlock jumps.
"Come on loser," the boy says to Sherlock. "Don't you want our team to win?"
He takes off before Sherlock can tell him it is just a game, and then Sherlock's all alone in the darkness.
The game is to last ten minutes, and John quickly wants to find Sherlock. He'd definitely admit that the laser tag arena is a bit of a guilty pleasure make-out spot, since it's in complete darkness and there are so many chances for people to find them. All he wants is to drag Sherlock into a secluded corner and kiss him breathless.
Of course, since it's dark, the only light seen is from the bright chest pieces, so he can't find Sherlock right away. He successfully ducks behind pillars and below benches set up for sanctuary, so he doesn't get shot at, but he quickly grows worried about Sherlock. But, he quickly realizes that maybe Sherlock has already been shot.
John wanders around for a few minutes longer, still not finding Sherlock. Plus, each time a player is shot, their number is called for them to sit out. And Sherlock's number hasn't been called. Panic rises in John. Where is he?
John hears someone start shouting to his left. Immediately, he runs all the way towards the voice until he hits a wall, then he listens closely again for more talking.
"What the fuck is wrong with you, you fucking weirdo?" John hears, again to his left, so he runs towards his and Sherlock's usual make-out corner.
Sure enough, two people are in the corner. As much as John can tell, one is sitting with his knees drawn to his chest, face buried in their crossed arms, while the other stands over him shouting. It takes John about half a second to realize Sherlock's on the ground and one of the new boys is yelling at him.
"Hey!" John yells. "Get away from him!"
The boy spins around, and from the glow of the chest piece, John can see his face.
"Aye," the boy replies, turning towards Sherlock again. "We were just having a chat. Weren't we, freak? He's over here cryin' and shit, what the fuck right?" The boy actually kicks Sherlock's leg next, and Sherlock clenches his fists tight. John charges at the boy, shoving him into the wall and holding him by the collar.
"Don't you dare touch him again," John yells in the boy's face.
The boy laughs. "The fuck you gonna do about it?"
Before he can stop himself, not that he'd want to, John punches the boy straight in the nose. He yells in pain and John strikes again, this time hitting somewhere on his cheek. John is about to punch again, but he hears Sherlock cry behind him and he stops. He lets the boy go and immediately drops to Sherlock's side.
"Sherlock, love," he whispers. Sherlock jumps and tightens into himself further, so John doesn't touch him. John calls for help instead.
In seconds, Lily arrives. "John, what's-"
"Tell them to turn on the lights!"
Lily doesn't question it, she just runs away fast.
John can hear a lot of shuffling around them, someone looking after the bloodied boy and everyone chattering with 'what's going on?', but he's only paying attention to Sherlock, who is still crouched on the floor and shaking.
Sherlock opens his eyes and notices light coming in through gaps where his arms are folded on his knees. Tear stains through his jeans make his knees itch, but obviously that doesn't matter. He can't stop shaking, his face is hot from his quick breath being pushed back into his face, and there's too much noise around him.
The noise does help though. Hearing the voices of all of his friends is helping him separate the then and now. He's not still in the cell in Chicago. Ben is not here. Olive is here. Duke is here. Declan is here. And John is here.
John is here. John isn't speaking. Is John here? John was here. Where did John go?
In a panic, Sherlock quickly sits up and reaches out to where he last heard John's voice. He's met with a soft grab, and he's being pulled into John's arms. Sherlock sighs relief and clutches John tightly.
"I'm here," John whispers, "It's alright, I've got you. You're safe, Sherlock, you're here with me."
"Oi, give 'em some space!" Harvey yells, and Sherlock hears all of their friends start to disperse.
"Come on," John says now. "Can you stand? Let's get out of here."
Sherlock slowly follows John up, but he still holds on tight. John wraps his arms around Sherlock, and Sherlock leans into him as much as he can. Honestly, it's like John is carrying him, but it helps Sherlock to feel better.
They make it out of the arena and into the seating area, where John helps Sherlock down. Sherlock wipes his eyes and tries to clean his face, but John doesn't let him move much.
Declan approaches them shortly after they sit. "I've called my uncle. He's on his way. Are you ok? Do you need anything?"
Sherlock shakes his head and doesn't say anything more, so Declan leaves. Sherlock's thankful for the space.
Clement arrives twenty minutes later, running into the arcade like a hurricane.
"Sherlock!" he yells, dropping in front of Sherlock and taking Sherlock's face in his hands. "What happened? Are you okay?"
Sherlock can't bring himself to speak, but Clement just kisses his forehead.
"Let's get you home," he mutters, pulling Sherlock to his feet.
From their table, Sherlock's friends call to him to feel better, but Sherlock leaves without a word.
"I'm so sorry," John says, tightening his arms around Sherlock. "That was a terrible idea, I should've known."
"Please John," Sherlock replies, burrowing deeper into John's arms. "It's not like this sort of thing comes with a rule book. If anyone should've known, I should've. I still sleep with the light on, for god's sake."
John strokes a hand up Sherlock's arm. "I'm glad you're feeling better."
"I am," Sherlock says. "Two hours in a near catatonic state was...weird."
"Worrisome," John argues. "You scared the shit out of me."
"Can I be honest, John?"
"Of course."
"You scared me."
John frowns deeply. "Fuck. I did? I'm so sorry, that wasn't my-"
"I know it wasn't your intent. First, it was the violence. And then I thought you were gone. You weren't saying anything."
"I didn't want to be...triggering. Any more triggering."
Sherlock looks up at John with a surprised expression. "Really?"
"Yes. Why are you so surprised?"
"Nothing, I just...I wouldn't have thought of that if our roles were reversed."
"And I'd probably tell you to shut the fuck up," John says with a chuckle. "I love you. I just want you to be okay."
Sherlock leans down and kisses John. "I love you too."
John smiles. "We'll have to find something else to do for fun."
"Movie night? Those dumb video games Dec rots his brain with? We can follow my brother around to find out what he and my dad are keeping from me."
John grins wickedly. "When do we start?"