For John Watson

[howdull]

[Sherlock is still finding pieces of the melted laptop in the carpet.

It had actually been quite an ingenious booby trap to be devised by a fourteen year old boy with only household chemicals to work with but, as Sherlock surmised, rather overkill to keep his mother from finding his extensive porn collection. Not one of their more illustrious cases, but it had been quite entertaining to watch both the boy and mother's faces as he revealed that he did know the how and why. He lost interest after the mother started shouting and John started shouting and the whole thing turned tedious.

He rather thinks John won't actually be doing a full write-up of this one on his blog.

It's been two days since their last case and he's beginning to get more than a little antsy. Lestrade has sent him nothing, just a boring hit and run that he refused to even leave the flat for, and nobody interesting has appeared through the blog. Said blog he is currently scrolling through on John's laptop, having borrowed it again.

He did ask, it's not his fault John hadn't been in the room at the time.]

Bored, John.

[He doesn't even know if his flatmate is even in, but that's hardly a necessity for him to actually speak to John. Frustrated, he throws the laptop across the room to hit the wall, where it summarily breaks. Which is where he can be found whenever John appears, sulking amidst pieces of laptop, both from the melted one of their last case and John's poor broken one.]

Comments

[jumpthegun]

[Mr. and Mrs. Holmes share a look that John tries to read, but can't quite parse. There's a subtle nod from each of them, though, before Mrs. Holmes leans down and plants a kiss on Sherlock's forehead. Mr. Holmes just squeezes his son's shoulder and offers him a tight smile. With that and one more sharp look at John from Mrs. Holmes, they're bustling out of the room, leaving John and Molly with Sherlock. John breathes out a sigh of relief.]

D'you actually want to stay to talk with him or just leave it 'til we've gotten more. Molly told me... [He glances over at her, before continuing.] He's read both of our blogs, and he was interested in you.

[howdull]

[He patiently waits through the affectionate goodbyes, absently kissing his mother in return, though he's already forgotten both parents before they're three steps out of the door. His attention is all on Molly and John, eyes gleaming.]

Of course I want to meet him, but it might be best if I feign unconsciousness and listen. You and Molly speak with him, make him believe we have no idea who he is. Perhaps break down, John, over Harry and the case, it might drive him to respond.

[jumpthegun]

[John bristles.]

I'm not breaking down in front of a bloody stranger. And I'm even... I don't do that.

[Evidence to the contrary aside.]

I'm not feeling particularly fragile, thanks.

[howdull]

That's why you pretend, it's called acting for a reason. It will lull him into a false sense of security, thinking he's being allowed into the inner sanctum, and may embolden him to reveal more of his hand than straightforward questioning.

[He fixes John with a stern look.]

You can do this, John, I have every faith in you.

[jumpthegun]

I can't just cry on command. Can you?

[He can maybe feign some distress, but a full breakdown? Everything in him rebels against it. He's a military man. Soldiers shouldn't be crying like that, certainly not in view of others. Molly... Molly isn't different, but he'd just lost it a bit with her.]

[howdull]

[Sherlock's face suddenly crumples and tears start streaming down his face, his voice a convincing wobble.]

How-- how could you doubt my control over my own body, John?

[And just as suddenly, it stops.]

A good detective has to be able to play any part.

[jumpthegun]

[He probably should have expected that. John looks to Molly.]

Can you, um... cry?

[It doesn't have to be him, does it? Molly would do.]

[howdull]

[Molly shakes her head straight away, she's definitely not that good an actress, and Sherlock shakes his head too.]

No, it has to be you. If Molly hasn't sobbed on him so far, it would be suspicious if she did it now.

[jumpthegun]

Give me a reason to cry, then. I can't just... I'm not like you, Sherlock. I can't do that.

[He is getting a little worked up at the moment. He does want to help, but crying is humiliating.

[howdull]

How about getting information from a man in league with a murderer? Isn't that reason enough?

[Come on, John, don't embarrass him here.]

[jumpthegun]

[John scowls. He'll need to work himself up to it, really. Which means he needs to put himself back in the mindset of failure, of Harry being dead and him not even getting to see her buried. He'd put a lock on all of that after his cry with Molly. He doesn't want to go there again. It's hard to shut it down once he's started.

Or...]

Molly, I'm gonna pretend to start losing it, and I'll need you to squeeze my shoulder.

[The pain from the burns should be enough to bring a prickle of tears.]

[howdull]

[Molly glances over at him in surprise, pulled from the silent worrying of her lower lip that she had been engaged in, but she nods all the same. She won't like hurting him, but she can do what's needed when necessary.]

Good, that's sorted, then.

[Sherlock settles himself back on the bed.]

Molly, go down to the lobby to meet him. John, go and make sure that Mycroft doesn't ruin things by coming back with my clothes and discharge paperwork.

[jumpthegun]

[Being ordered to something like that is a great deal easier than being told to cry on cue. John's really hoping Mycroft won't demand to be present in the room when Jim turns up. He nods once and offers Molly a bracing smile before heading off to the nurse's station to find Mycroft. A thought occurs to him and he pulls the number for Lestrade's mobile from his pocket to text the man. He'd gotten it earlier after calling the Met to try to reach the man on his new mobile.]

TO: LESTRADE
Sherlock's okay. Awake and alert. Need a drink after this. More than one. Let's say twenty or so.

[That done, he looks up and spots Mycroft standing at the desk for the nurse's station.]

Mycroft, we need you to hold off on bringing in the discharge papers and clothes. Jim's coming here--Molly's boyfriend Jim. Sherlock wants to see us talking to him before he leaves.

[howdull]

[Mycroft is rapidly reaching the end of his fraying rope. There are precious few things that he cares about in this world, and one of them had almost died last night. This man here is the reason.

The look he gives John is nothing short of withering.]

Dr. Watson, there are many things that Sherlock wants which are not good for him. I thought we might be in accord on what those things are, it seems I was mistaken.

[Such as about whether John might be good for Sherlock. He isn't.]

You may go.

[jumpthegun]

[John holds his ground, frowning. He might feel immensely guilty about Sherlock being poisoned, but...]

Are you just gonna blame everything on me because you're scared it took me and Molly putting the clues together to find him after your security net failed?

[He turns to the nurse at the counter.]

I'll come and pick up the discharge papers and clothes for Mr. Holmes when he's ready to leave. Sorry for the inconvenience.

[howdull]

[The nurse looks a little unsure before putting the discharge papers into Mycroft's hand with an apologetic look. Mycroft smiles thinly.]

That was not a suggestion, Dr. Watson.

[His polite tone takes on just a slight edge.]

You will leave now and remove all of your remaining possessions from Sherlock's flat before we return there, and you will not return. I do not wish to employ the vulgarities of threats, so I advise that you run along.

[jumpthegun]

[What? He'd known Mycroft was pissed off at him, but... John squares his shoulders, jaw setting as he glares up at the other man.]

Threaten all you'd like, mate. I've lost my home, everything I own, my sister, and my girlfriend in the past week. You really think there's much else you can take from me except him? There's no way in hell I'm leaving Sherlock alone with you to watch over him.

[howdull]

Yes, and in the losing of these things, you have also driven my brother almost to his death. You are a doctor, I am certain you are aware that even surviving ricin poisoning does not give a clean bill of health, and I will not allow this to go any further.

[He raps his umbrella down on the lino flooring, a sharp rap.]

If you do not want him to be taken from you in a more permanent way, then do the honourable thing and walk away. This will be your final chance to go voluntarily.

[jumpthegun]

[Don't punch him. Don't punch him. Do not punch him.

The words repeat in John's head as he stares down Mycroft. Punching will get him thrown out of the building. Or worse, strapped to a bed after he collapses when Mycroft shoves at his broken ribs. Caroline's promised that today is the start of the big show, but if they can pin Jim, maybe everything will be foiled. That's more important than the satisfaction of breaking Mycroft's nose.

He licks his lips and nods to himself before turning on his heel and walking back toward Sherlock's room.]

Go to hell, Mycroft.

[howdull]

[Mycroft will let him go for now. His is not the way of brawling in a hospital corridor, but he will make sure that Dr. Watson is dealt with when the moment is right. For now, he does not wish to endanger Sherlock any further, and so he will observe this Jim from a distance, but allow it to go ahead.

Sherlock is laid out on the bed when John re-enters the room, looking for all the world as if he might be unconscious or asleep. He opens his eyes after a moment, though, having heard only John's distinctive tread on the floor.]

Is everything ready, John?

[jumpthegun]

No. Mycroft wants me to leave and never come back. So, I'll be on the lookout for the government kidnapping me and throwing me in some prison somewhere, I suppose. Told him to go to hell, though. That felt nice. Dunno if he's gonna hold off bringing things in, but I did tell him to.

[howdull]

[He clicks his tongue in annoyance.]

Count yourself lucky not to be related to Mycroft, John. Don't pay any attention to his blustering, I'll hardly be allowing him to take you.

[jumpthegun]

[In spite of the fact that that should probably be a troubling sentiment, being the toy in the middle of a pair of brother's tug-o-war, the words are bracing. Sherlock has his back as much as John tries to have the other man's. He just nods and goes to sit down, trying to get into the mindset of being scared and worried for Sherlock and everything else. That's fairly easy, at least.]

Probably want to go back to pretending to sleep. I'll keep an eye out for Molly and Jim. Anything you absolutely want me to ask him?

[howdull]

No, concentrate on getting him to open up. Anything will do, no matter how seemingly insignificant, pretend you wish to get to know him as a person.

[Sherlock is more than confident of his ability to piece together a far larger picture than the one actually shown, just from the answers given and the answers not given.

He watches John a moment to make sure that he has the instructions down clearly, and then closes his eyes once more to pretend to be asleep. It's another fifteen minutes, however, before Molly pokes her head around the door.]

Um, John? Is it okay if we come in?

[jumpthegun]

[Showtime. John's spent the past fifteen minutes contemplating what's going to happen if he does get locked away by Mycroft, if Sherlock slips away from him. If Molly or Lestrade are hurt. If Sarah is hurt. Mike and Bill. He draws in a shaky breath, voice tight.]

Yeah. Sure, Molly. Sherlock's sleeping again. [John looks up to see Molly with Jim. He offers here a tired smile and tries his best to quell the suspicion as he flicks his eyes over to Jim.] Thanks for coming by to look after her, uh... Jim? It's been a long night.