Hi my lovelies,

Here is the second part of the "New Beginning' chapter. Nothing much is happening here. Just some sappy, fluffy moments, which I think these two needs more than anything. Also note that, I have messed up the POVs in the chapter. Generally, I present the scenes from a certain character's POV. But here, some of the scenes are more like from the narrator's POV. Though I don't think that will pose a problem with the reading, but if it does, please excuse the mistake. :(

Also, I'm gonna be super busy for the next 25 days. I'm going for an adventure! So, this will be my last update till then. Please, stay with the boys, they need your support to get over with their problems.

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Hugs and cookies for- Sandylee007, SilentRaven97, omgeology, Suealpacamama, Smita, Amista, and my darling Kiddo, Nauss. And all those lovely people who Favourited/Followed this story or me. You guys are AWESOME!

Smita (guest)- Thank you, darling, for that amazingly positive review! John needed to know Sherlock's side of the story, his problems, insecurities. Hence, all those heartbreaking outbursts. I am so glad that you liked them even if they were pretty angsty. *hugs*

Amista (guest)- Thank you, sweetheart! *hugs*

Neither Brit-picked, nor Beta'd.

Hope you enjoy the read! Leave a review if you have a minute to spare. :D

xxx

Abbey

New Beginning Pt-II

"Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear;
When little fears grow great, great love grows there."

-'Hamlet' by Shakespeare

"Not really sure how to feel about it

Something in the way you move

Makes me feel like I can't live without you

It takes me all the way

I want you to stay."

- 'Stay' by Rihanna feat. Mikky Ekko

"So...you combed your hair for me, huh?"

"Shut up."

Every pore of Sherlock's skin was burning. Just from the touch. Just from that slight brush of skin on skin. It was not the burning from chemicals, or the disgusting sensation which he felt every time someone other than Mummy or Mrs. Hudson tried to touch him. No, it was nothing like that. This burning made him want to crave it more. Want to feel it more. Want to touch it more. Sherlock never felt anything like this before, ever. He had no idea that a mere touch could weaken him, hypnotize him like this. He thought he was above this. His body was just a transport, above all these basic physical trivialities. Then why did he feel as if his mind was going numb? Why his body wanted to lean on this touch? Why now? Was it just a physical reaction or was it...John?

Was it because he was touching John?

To confirm Sherlock tried to imagine someone else touching him like this. Someone like...like Natalie or Wiggins. But apparently, it was a very wrong thing to do, because a shudder went through Sherlock's body as soon as he imagined the scenario, and he vehemently tried to banish the cursed scene off his mind. Urgh...

If John's touch was hypnotizing then the mere thought of someone else touching him was nauseating. And while Sherlock was still busy getting rid of the sickening feeling, and shaking his hands as if something sticky and disgusting was still attached to it, he came to this conclusion that yes, it was John who elicited this intense or...um...pleasant physical reaction from him.

But something was not right. Sherlock had successfully cleared his doubts and he couldn't deny that the result had pleased him, but something felt off, he felt cold. With a start, he realized that John wasn't holding him anymore. He must have shaken John off of himself while he thought he was banishing those horrible mental images. He spun on his heels; one look at John's guilt stricken face and Sherlock knew that he had some convincing to do.

"Um...you are misinterpreting the situation."

Sherlock watched John paled more.

"Oh. Oh, no..I'm-I'm sorry. I-I shouldn't have..uh..hugged you. I'm s-sorry."

"You are definitely misinterpreting. I was analyzing some data and had to conduct a brief experiment. The result was rather nasty that forced me to react the way I did. You played no role in it, at least not directly. And as for your concern about hugging me, all I can say is that I...um..well, I did not dislike it."

Though he did not seem to be fully convinced but John, to Sherlock's utter relief, relaxed a bit.

"Oh, okay. That's good then. I mean it's good that I didn't cause any trouble for you, yeah?"

"Yes, it is."

They stood there with a growing awkwardness between them. Sherlock was watching John as a hawk and John was looking everywhere but Sherlock.

He still hasn't realized that he is without his cane. Sherlock mused.

This has become way too awkward. Should I comment on the weather now? Oh, he must be freezing by now. I should ask him to... John promptly stopped his own mind-babbling and asked Sherlock, "Hey, shouldn't we go inside? You must be freezing."

"I am perfectly fine here, John. I'd rather stay here with you than go back to that circus."

"Oh, okay, um, alright. But you should put something warm on you."

"I assure you that I feel no discomfort in my current attire."

"Then at least sit under the shade. Come on."

They took their previous places on the wooden stairs of the shade with John a step higher than Sherlock. Silence enveloped them again but this time it was somewhat companionable.

Sherlock wanted to smoke again, but that would require him to go inside, so he pushed aside his nicotine craving for now, and tried to concentrate on the soft tapping sound John's shoes were making currently.

At last John spoke up.

"You swore today."

"I did not!"

"Yeah, you did. It was kinda cute, you know, hearing you swearing for the first time."

"...Oh, so it was amusing to you? Well, I am glad that I was able to entertain you."

Uh-oh. "What? No...no, no, not like that, not like that kind of cute, no. In fact not at all cute. There was nothing cute about it, about you. Er...no...uh..it's not like I don't find you cute; I think you are irresistibly cute but not like that, you know? Ha ha, no..um..I should shut up now, yeah, okay."

Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiilence. John sat there, looking like a hedgehog in shock and wondering what on earth was wrong with him.

Sherlock turned his head towards John but did not look at him.

"You find me irresistible?"

"No, no, absolutely not, not in the lea- what? "

Now Sherlock turned fully, looking straight at John.

"So, it was a lie then?"

"What? Noooo, no-just-Jesus, Sherlock. I'm a moron. Yes, you are irresistible, you are cute and I am a dickhead."

Sherlock arched an eyebrow.

"Why? For finding me cute and charming?"

John's shoulder slumped further.

"Now you are just having me on, aren't you?"

Sherlock frowned.

"Of course, I am."

"Brat."

And with that single word the air around them became charged with heavy emotions. Memories rushed in, flooding them with moments of shared bliss, banter, disagreement, promises, admiration...affections.

They held each other's gaze, trying to find the echoes of the emotions, they both were feeling, into each other's eyes. Trying to delve into the depth of each other's mind, and to assure and be assured that deep down they were still the same; the ways were not sealed shut yet.

"My own brat."

John wasn't even sure whether he uttered those words in his mind or aloud. It wasn't a statement, wasn't a confirmation. It was a plea. Can I still call you mine? Do I still have the right? Did those moments really happen? Are you still mine?

"...Yes."

Sherlock responded without averting his eyes. Yes, you can still call me that. Yes, I have longed to hear those words from you. Yes, I am ready to let my control go. Yes, those moments really happened. Yes, I am still yours.

John never knew being possessive also meant surrendering one's self completely. Sherlock never knew that accepting the fact that someone else held the power of breaking or making him could feel so liberating. They never knew letting go could feel like coming home.

~0~0~0~

Sherlock scowled.

"John?"

"Hmm?"

"A ringing sound is coming from your pocket."

"Hmmmm."

"John!"

"Wh-what?"

"You have a phone?"

"What? Oh, shit. Wait."

"Who is it? Who gave you the phone? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Just a sec."

"Who is calling you at this late of the night?"

"Oh, it's nothing, just Mycroft. There, I have put it on silent mode. So, no ringing anymore."

"He calls you at night?"

"Huh? Oh, no, he's probably making sure that we haven't killed each other yet."

"Why is my brother calling you at this hour when he clearly knows that you are with me?"

"Umm...he's worried, probably?"

"Is it a common occurrence?"

"Is what a common occurrence?"

"His calling you?"

"Yeah, it quite common. Most of the time he contacts me through phone calls. And it's better to talk to him over the phone than to hear his nattering face to face."

"He visits you? And he calls you personally every time?"

"Uh...Sherlock, what's going on? Why are you looking so angry?"

"Answer my questions."

"He-uh-he doesn't visit me that often but yes, he calls me from his personal number...but I don-"

"What is the nature of your relationship with Mycroft?"

"What? Relationship? What the hell are you on about? What relationship?"

"Do not try to dodge the question. Answer me."

"What the fuck, Sherlock? Mycroft helped me to get in touch with you and I may not admit it to him but I am thankful for whatever he did to bring me to you. And honestly, for a long time he was the only-"

"Oh, so now I have to listen to the praises you sing about my brother? Perfect Mycroft and his perfect little schemes. Mighty Mycroft invades the foreign lands and saves the damsel in distress while his failure of a brother grovels in the dirt in need of a fix. Oh, how wonderful. Why, John don't you think it is a perfect plot? The fallen hero and the hero. While the one fights tooth and nail to save his own skin, the other saves the world with just a snap of his fingers. Brilliant. I never stood a chance, did I, John? You are never going to-"

"Sherlock! Do not utter a single word anymore. Do not finish that line, you hear me? Do not. Finish. That. Line! Jesus, Sherlock! What is going on? What-why are you acting like this? What happened so suddenly? Why?"

"Because it will never last! Don't you see, John? He will take you away from me. He will take you away and hide you and never let me see you again. He will take you away, he will."

"Oh, Sherlock...Sherlock, Sherlock, listen to me..." John cupped the left side of Sherlock's face, tangling the fingertips into the inky curls, forcing him to look at John when he tried to pull away, "no no, look at me. Look at me. You know me, right? You know your John, Your John. I am never going to leave you. Ever. I am going to stay with you as long as you want me to. I am in this for good. No, no no, stop talking for a moment and let me finish, yeah? Yeah? I am not going to leave you. Mycroft's not going to take me away. He never can, never will. Sherlock he is the one who brought me here. No no, I am not taking your brother's side but we have to face the truth, right? Sherlock, Mycroft wanted us to meet and he went to a great length to make that happen. Then why would he undo all of his efforts? He is not going to take me away, no one can. I will always be with you."

"But-but he took Readbeard away. He took him away from me and he never came back. He will do the same with you. John, he will, he will." Sherlock was trembling, his voice choked up while speaking.

"Shh, shh, shh, no, he won't, he can't. Trust me, I won't let him. You trust me don't you? Don't you? I will not let anyone, anyone take me away from you. I promise."

"You will break you promise again."

"No, I won't."

"You will leave me."

"No, I won't"

"You can't promise that."

"Yes, I can."

"Why?"

"Because...because you are you. Because you are mine. Because I am yours."

"..."

John wrapped his good arm around Sherlock and he, in return, pressed his face against John's right shoulder and hugged him back.

"Shh...shhh...it's okay, it's alright, baby...it's alright. I am here, I will always be here."

"John?"

"Yes, Sherlock?"

"I-I don't want y-you to live in that nursing home anymore. You are t-too near to Mycroft."

"Okay, alright, I will move out. I will leave the facility as soon as I can arrange something alternative, okay? Don't worry about it. Alright?"

"John?"

"Yes? Tell me what is it?"

"I want to go home." Sherlock mumbled into the crook of John's neck.

"...You will. Soon, you will be home, Sherlock. I will take you home. You will be home in no time."

"Mycroft is stupid."

"That's right. He is a stupid git."

"John?"

"Yeah?"

"You called me baby. Why?"

"Erm...Yes, I did. You've got a problem with that?"

"No."

"Good."

"Why are you still hugging me? The distress period is over. I am fine now." Though he himself made no effort to move from where he was now, so John hugged him more tightly.

"I am hugging you because I can. So, shut up and let me cuddle you more."

"Idiot."

"Brat."

"John?"

"Hmm?"

"Stay."

"I will."

~0~0~0~

Mycroft did not want to stop by Sherlock's rehab tonight while returning from a very politically planned social gathering. He was sure his brother would never welcome his presence especially not on an occasion like this, and honestly he had no desire to barge in, too. He was too tired to listen to his brother's whining and complaining. But John, for some reasons unknown to even Mycroft, was not receiving his calls and that was enough to set the alarms on for him. Thus, Mycroft found himself entering the rehab.

Once inside he was told that his brother and Dr. Watson were in the back yard at the moment. The staff offered to call them in for him but he refused. Throwing himself in front of Sherlock's verbal firing was not really something he had been planning to do tonight. So instead, he went for them himself.

"Pssst...Mr. Holmes? Pssst?"

Mycroft Holmes, in his entire life, was never on the receiving end of a 'psst pssst-ing' . His perpetual grimace deepened along with his frown. He turned to find out who was capable of such atrocity, and found Sherlock's nurse standing just a few steps away, partially hidden behind a bush.

"Miss Lewis?"

"Mr. Holmes, come here, quick quick."

"Excuse me?"

"Will excuse you later, just move from there this instant. They're gonna see you. Come here, come on."

"Who's going to-" Mycroft turned to the direction Natalie was asking him not to go, and he thought he saw John.

"God, you brothers..."

And with that Mycroft was being dragged (heavens!) by his coat sleeve.

"Ms. Lewis! Do not act above your station. Unhand me right now."

But by then Natalie had secured their position, well hidden from John and Sherlock. She let go of Mycroft's coat clad elbow.

"Sorry 'bout that but that was completely necessary, you know. You were about to ruin the moment."

"Pardon?"

"You shouldn't go there right now. Give them some more time, will you?"

"And pray tell what is so important they are doing that they cannot be interrupted and I have to be manhandled to secure their privacy?"

"I said sorry already. Don't be such a baby. And they are just hugging and stuff."

It took Mycroft a moment too long to response. It was not often (in fact not ever except while visiting Mrs. Hudson) that he was addressed in such a manner. He was stunned to say the least but Mycroft Holmes would not be snubbed by being called a baby. He squared his shoulder, made his face as indifferent as the situation allowed him (which was not much, regretfully), arched an eyebrow and asked-

"And 'stuff'?"

"Yeah, you know...the things that happen after lovers' tiff."

Now this was alarmingly interesting.

"They had an argument?"

"Guess so. I heard Sherlock yelling and babbling."

"I demand to know the full account."

"Jesus! Have you two being brought up by the Malfoys? Both of you guys are such drama queens."

Malfoys? Who on earth those people are? This needs to be investigated. However, "I assure you, Ms. Lewis, that there is no doubt behind our parentage, and whether we were ever subjected to any foster care, I do not think, you should concern yourself about the matter. So, is that all you have to say? I am afraid I cannot delay my visit anymore. But...ah...thank you for your effort to secure my brother's privacy."

With that Mycroft turned from Natalie and left the place without paying any heed to any protestation or pssst- psssting that followed his departure.

Why do I have to deal with all the oddities that Sherlock has a knack to attract?! And Sherlock is the drama queen, not me.

Mycroft had no doubt that this New Year would also prove to be as eventful as ever.

~0~0~0~

It was John who spotted Mycroft first and thought shit.

The moment John's stance went from relaxed to alert, Sherlock knew.

As soon as Mycroft met his brother's eyes he braced himself mentally.

"What are you doing here?" Spat Sherlock.

And of course, Mycroft was not going to let this opportunity to rile his brother up go waste. Hence, all he said was, "Hello, John."

Poor John, oblivious of the disaster he was about to bring upon himself, responded with a nod, an uncertain half-smile, and a "Hey."

Very predictably, John met with a very Sherlokian 'you traitor' glare.

"You haven't answered me, Mycroft. Why are you here?"

Mycroft rolled his eyes before answering, "I came here to wish my brother New Year, of course."

John could see Sherlock had curled his fingers into fists and his knuckles were white. He had an ominous feeling about this. But before he could think of doing something to cut the tension, Sherlock responded with clenched teeth.

"You are unwanted here. Leave."

"Ah. But that wasn't my sole purpose of coming here, brother. I came here also to make sure John was alright."

John frowned. Sherlock fumed and placed himself in front of John, hiding him almost entirely from Mycroft's view. John took a step to his left to make himself visible but to his annoyance Sherlock took a step in the same direction and tried to hide John again.

"Sherlock what are y-" John tried to cut in.

"Very mature, Sherlock." Smugness was oozing out of Mycroft.

"Why, brother, are you jealous?" Sherlock's knuckles were still white.

"Jealous? Of what exactly?" Mycroft gave a serene smile.

"Mycroft, will you ple-" John tried again but in vain.

"Because I have John." Sherlock's voice was defiant and...and...petulant?!

"W-what?" The statement was not something out of the blue, but John was taken aback nonetheless.

Mycroft huffed in exasperation which John suspected was a fake gesture. That smug bastard was enjoying this too much.

"It is not a competition, brother. Do not try to make it one."

"Yes, true. It is not a competition, Mycroft, because you do not even qualify for it. I demand his release at once." Sherlock snarled.

"What the fuck is going on?" John couldn't believe these two! He just couldn't.

"Dear God, Sherlock! John is not my prisoner."This time, the elder Holmes exasperation seemed quite genuine.

"Isn't he? But all the surveillance, the waiting minions, your sudden urge to secure John's safety when he is with me tells me another story though. Did you honestly think you could fool me with the same trick every time? This time you won't succeed. This time I will not let go what is mine." The words were dipped in vitriol.

Mycroft's face lost its smugness and a cold mask took its place.

"I did what was to be done at that time. Do not blame me for your inability to accept the reality."

"He was my first friend!"

"And I did everything I could to save him."

"Yet you could not."

"To let a singular accident dictate the rest of your life's experiences is not only foolish but disappointing."

"Excuse me, guys, not that I am complaining because trust me, seeing you two morons bickering to your hearts' fullest is highly entertaining, but you see the thing is that, if I have the slightest idea what all these fuck is about, I will be able to enjoy your sodding show more. So, can anyone care to tell me what the fucking fuck is going on?" John's pitch was rose considerably and he all but screamed while ending his speech.

In response, he met with two pair of identical blinking. And then the bickering resumed like John had never spoken.

"You are disappointing, Mycroft, not me."

"How more childish can you be, Sherlock?!"

"Release John."

"He is free to go whenever he wants."

"Good, then he will move out tomorrow."

"Nice plan brother, but have you decided yet where he would go after that? He still needs medical attention and I doubt his meagre pension will allow him to stay in London once he starts to pay for his treatment out of his own pocket."

"Hey hey hey, I am still here, you know? And what exactly do you mean by my-"

"Of course I have planned for everything. We will share a flat. That way he will be able to balance his expenditure."

"What? A flat? Sher-, what the hell? Hey, you-you listen to me-"

"We?"

"Yes, brother, we because you are getting me out of this place as well."

"That is not possible."

"You know very well that I am capable of getting out of here whenever I intend to, with or without your help. If you want me to make things difficult for you then it will be my pleasure to oblige you, brother dear."

"But you are required to complete your therapy."

"If you seriously think that some meaningless therapy sessions will be better for me than to share a flat with John, then you are losing your logical competence faster than I presumed, Mycroft."

"Clearing the paper-work will take some time."

"That's your problem, not mine."

"Alright then-"

"You, you fucking stuck-up incorrigible pricks. You are discussing about my life choices, deciding my future for me without even sparing a glance at me! While I stand here like-like some fucking stray dog waiting to be danced around by the great Holmes brothers! Who the hell you think you are, you fucking idiots? And you," John stomped towards Sherlock, "you spoiled rotten twat, what makes you think that you can decide my future for me without even consulting? Huh? I like you, but that doesn't mean, Sherlock, that you get to choose everything for me, got that? Yeah? Right. And you," Now it was Mycroft's turn, "you sodding meddling bastard, who gave you the right to talk about my life as if I poured my heart out crying over your shoulder? Don't go pretending that you know what I can or can't do just because you have my career file. I can forgive Sherlock for trying to take choices from me, but the same doesn't go for you. You hear me? Good. Now, keep that brotherly love on. I am done with you two for the night. No, no, Sherlock, not another word, not tonight."

With that John turned and stomped his way back to the main building.

The rage of John Watson. Pure, dazzling and toe curlingly sexy. Both of the Holmes brother stood in stunned silence, blinking and looking at the empty spot where John stood moments ago, threatening the hell out of them.

"Well, that was...interesting." The elder Holmes noted, tapping his umbrella.

"How can he be so angry? He is so small, almost tiny."

"How many times do I have to remind you, brother, that physical size doesn't correlate with human emotions?!"

"Hmm. Have you noticed?"

"Of course. Should I deliver it to him later?"

"You may. Though he will not need that cane anymore.

"Sherlock...are you sure about sharing a flat with John? He doesn't seem very enthusiastic about it, and your history with other people is not very encouraging as well."

"I am not the only one who is trying to find a home, Mycroft. He will come around. And he is not other people, he is John."

"Dear God. How very poetic of you, brother, and pathetically maudlin. However, though I do not share your point of view, but I will withhold my opinion and hope for the best."

"You are not fooling anyone, Mycroft."

"Would not dream about it. So do you have any particular place in mind or do you need any assistance?"

"I have."

"Which is?"

"221B Baker Street. Tell Mrs. Hudson that Sherlock Holmes and John Watson will be renting it."

~0~0~0~