What's crackin' y'all? I'm alive and kicking. Ready to write to. Sorry about the delay, but since I've kept you waiting long enough, I'll just get down to it.
John took a deep breath, and held it. 3...2...1...Nope, still pissed. How dare he? What made Mycroft think. he had the right to be so cruel to his Sherlock. Not. Okay.
John took another deep breath, and then marched up the stairs, every inch the soldier. He flung the door open and scanned the room. Sherlock was sitting curled in his chair, looking so lost and alone that John just wanted to pull him into a hug and never let go. Then his eyes landed on Mycroft's smug face. "Get. Out."
To say that John sounded human would have been the equivalent of calling the Joker a harmless bunny rabbit. Sherlock shivered and Mycroft took a half step back. The look on his face faltered, but then returned. "See, Sherlock, even now he is kicking you out."
The noise that came out of John then was not so much a growl, as a deep rumble from the depths of his soul. He stalked forward, grabbed Mycroft by the ear, and dragged him to the door. John shoved him outside, slammed the door in his face and locked it. He rested his head against the frame for a moment and then turned. What he saw broke his heart.
Sherlock was curled in on himself even further and was rocking slightly. Tears were falling silently down his face, and he was biting his hand to keep from making any noise. John approached him cautiously, his feet gliding across the floor soundlessly. He crouched next to Sherlock and pulled him onto his lap, rocking him back and forth.
"I'm here. I'm here and I'm yours and no one can make me leave."
He pried Sherlock's hand away from the death grip he had on his hair and placed it on his heart.
"I've got you. You're not going to fall, because I've caught you."
Sherlock held on and sobbed.