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

[gallowshumour]

That's him. Nice fella, bit quiet, and I think there's something wrong with his arm.

[There's the sound of the kettle boiling in the background.]

Mrs. Turner's out, but can I tell your friend that you'll pop by, or should I get him to come back? I wouldn't know, you see, nobody bothers to keep me in the loop.

[jumpthegun]

[That details settles him slightly, at least. It might really be James. But what the hell Is he doing around? Did Bill call him?

John can hear the irritation in Mrs. Hudson's voice, but ignores it for the moment.]

Yes. Sherlock and I will be right over. He's being discharged this morning. I'd really like it if you could have someone you know and trust come over, though, Mrs. Hudson. Maybe one of the lads from the shop? [Speedy's likely doesn't have any customers whilst being blown to bits. Even if there is James, there's something wrong here, and he'd like Mrs. Hudson protected until he can reach her.

D is for... what? Discharge? Dishonor? Christ. John hadn't thought to warn James. He shouldn't have been reachable.]

We'll be there in just a few minutes. I'm so sorry, Mrs. Hudson. Thank you for letting him stay there, but it may not be safe. James isn't dangerous, but the woman after me might come after him, or she might be using him. Please be very careful.

[gallowshumour]

Don't worry, I know how to handle myself. If he turns out to be dangerous, it won't be the first time I've had to tie up a man threatening me, my husband was a drug dealer, remember?

[Honestly, sometimes those boys seem to think she's utterly incapable.]

It'll be good to see you both again, though. I'll tell him that you're on your way.

[jumpthegun]

[He spares a moment to give the phone an absolutely perplexed look before pulling it together.]

Right. Okay. I'd still feel... Well. We'll see you in a bit. [The faster they get there, the faster this will be a non-issue.] Talk to you soon, Mrs. H.

[He hangs up there and turns to the nurse at the station.]

Sherlock Holmes -- uh, William. He's in room 508. His brother was out here getting his discharge papers and clothes. Where's he gone? The brother, I mean. We need to leave. Now.

[howdull]

William Sherlock Scott Holmes, actually.

[That's Mycroft as he steps around the corner with perfect timing, the tip of his umbrella tapping on the floor. His voice and expression are perfectly polite, but there's a simmering dislike underneath it now. John Watson has endangered and possibly permanently damaged his little brother, that will not go without a reckoning.

He holds up the papers, and then very deliberately pockets them in his inside jacket pocket.]

I've rather changed my mind about allowing Sherlock to go running off with you again, you may go alone, as discussed before.

[jumpthegun]

[John bristles.]

We don't have time for games, Mycroft. Give me his discharge papers and clothes. He's asked for them. And Mrs. Hudson may be in danger. I don't think you want to stand between him and her.

[howdull]

You're the only one standing between Mrs. Hudson and safety, Dr. Watson, I suggest you make a move now. I'll deal with my brother. As stated, he is no longer your concern, should you attempt to return here, you will be removed.

[Trust him, he has that kind of influence.]

Good day, Dr. Watson.

[jumpthegun]

[Don't cause a scene. Don't cause a scene. It's exactly what he wants. John's hands all but shake with suppressed fury. He goes striding after Mycroft, and brushes by him without a word to reach Sherlock's room first.

He is aware that Molly will be there and Jim may be, as well. John can't even be bothered to school his expression away from quiet anger and frustration.]

Sherlock and I need to leave, Molly. Your car. It's, um... it's back at his flat. Sherlock's flat. His other flat. We need to get back to Baker Street, though.

[howdull]

[Petty and childish, does he think that getting to Sherlock's room first will make any difference? Mycroft sighs and follows on behind, to see the little room quite crowded with people.

Sherlock is still prone, either pretending to be asleep or actually asleep because Jim is in there, who pulls a slightly too exaggerated confused face.]

Leave? He doesn't look to be in much condition to leave.

[Molly, however, is already halfway on her feet. She takes hold of Jim's hand bravely to try and pull him to the door.]

I'm sure that John just meant himself, he's frazzled. Come on, Jim, I'll walk you out and go and get my car, but-- um, thanks for coming.

[jumpthegun]

[He should have said himself.]

Right. Yeah.

[The doctor's voice is distracted.]

Thanks, Jim. We'll talk later.

[Much later. John waits for the pair of them to leave the room before turning his attention to Sherlock's prone form. He speaks quietly.]

Jim's gone, Sherlock, you can stop pretending to be asleep. Mrs. Hudson's just called. She might be in danger. Mycroft's refusing to hand over your discharge papers and clothes, though. I can deck him, now we're not in the middle of the hall, if you'd like. [It's not even really joking, as evidenced by the look thrown in Mycroft's direction.]

[howdull]

[Sherlock sits up and slides his legs off the bed in one smooth motion, barely a second after John finishes telling him that Jim has left. He knows, of course, he smelt the cologne going away, he heard the footsteps, but there's no need to point that out.]

Don't waste your energy, you'd only break his nose and then he'd whine for a month. Mycroft, either be useful and give me both the clothes and my discharge papers, or get out of the way and I'll leave without them.

[He's not messing around. If Mrs. Hudson is in danger, one of the precious few he cares for, he will not be detained here. Especially not by big brother.]

[jumpthegun]

You will not be leaving this hospital, Sherlock. [Mycroft meets his eye, and he's scowling.] Dr. Watson is free to leave at his leisure. He will not be returning. His acquaintance has become actively detrimental to your health. You may make your goodbyes, as you'd like.

[John is having to actively hold himself back, and it's only the pain from his tensed shoulders and chest that remind him why it would be better not to haul off on Mycroft. Satisfying for a moment. Problematic for the near-term future.]

[howdull]

[Sherlock meets Mycroft's eyes for a moment, before he simply dismisses his big brother from his thoughts as if he's not even in the room any more. If Mycroft actively tries to stop him, Sherlock will punch him, but for now all his attention is on John.]

Text Molly, tell her that I'll need some clothes picking up on the way.

[He pulls the IV from his arm and the remaining pads for the monitors.]

Come along, John, there's no time to waste.

[jumpthegun]

[John nods and complies immediately. One of the only numbers he has in the phone is Molly's. They'd exchanged numbers at some point last night. Which means he can probably be traced on this phone again, but it's a small price to pay. He needs to get somewhere that he can copy down a bunch of important numbers in case he needs to trade phones again.]

TO: MOLLY
Need a ride to Baker Street and clothes for Sherlock. Can you help? This WILL be reimbursed.

[Meanwhile, Mycroft knows better than to try to step in front of his little brother when he looks like that. There are far easier ways about these things. He simply steps outside and calls down the hall.]

Nurse, my brother is attempting escape the premises absent his clothing and a proper medical release.

[One of the nurses turns toward Mycroft with a sigh, and John steps out quickly after him. He really doesn't want to run with this lie, but he can't think of anything that will really endear him, otherwise. 'Friend' doesn't carry quite the weight they need right now. He hopes this isn't the same nurse he mentioned having a girlfriend in front of.]

Nurse, my boyfriend's homophobic brother is trying to throw me out and keep him here against his will.

[howdull]

[Mycroft simply gapes. For all his intelligence, that was not a ruse that he saw coming. Nor did he expect it when Sherlock appeared in the doorway to wind his arm casually around John's waist as though it was a gesture he did all the time.]

I'm afraid that John is right, please stand aside Mycroft. I know you don't approve of my lifestyle choices, but this is getting ridiculous.

[The nurse, looking equally flabbergasted, shoots Mycroft a dirty look.]

I'll get you some new medical release forms, don't you worry.

[jumpthegun]

[John works very hard not to flinch when there's an arm wrapped around him. This is a ruse. It's a ruse. He's never seeing any of these people again. They don't know how he is, not really. None of them probably read the blog. Instead, the doctor shoots a grateful and relieved smile at the nurse. That, at least, is genuine.]

Thanks so much... [He glances at her name tag.] Claire. You've no idea how much we appreciate this. C'mon, babe. [The petname grates across John's mind as his gaze turns briefly to Sherlock. Then, he starts them walking forward toward the nurses station. Mycroft is only just beginning to pull himself together. He sputters as he follows after them.]

You cannot possibly believe this farce. They are most certainly not together.

[John only just suppresses a smirk, and acts out a put-upon sigh, shaking his head slightly at the nurse. Dig that hole deeper, Mycroft.]

Any chance you could get his clothes sent up? We have a friend who's been helping us out, but...

[howdull]

Babe?

[Sherlock's nose wrinkles just a little in disgust at the endearment, though his words are spoken quietly enough to only be audible to John and out of the corner of his mouth while he keeps his arm around his 'boyfriend'.]

Even if we were an item, I hardly think that I would be the 'babe' sort.

Of course, lovey. You and your nice boyfriend go and sit down and I'll bring the clothes over, don't worry about anyone bothering you. [The nurse, completely on their side now, gives Mycroft a forbidding look as if daring him to say anything else.] You should be ashamed of yourself, sir, coming here and berating your brother for the crime of loving someone.

[jumpthegun]

[They sit down and John places a hand on Sherlock's thigh, leaning in to murmur back sarcastically.]

D'you want sweetie or darling, then? Maybe dear heart?

[The nurse heads off, and John levels a look at Mycroft as he stalks closer. The doctor is trying not to look too smug that his ploy has gone off without a hitch. Mycroft's overly dramatic turn of phrase only continues to add to the effect.]

Sherlock, this is childish. You are in danger wherever you go with that man. He is an unsuitable companion. Get back to your room at once.

[howdull]

[Sherlock is up and out of his chair remarkably quickly for someone who almost died the previous night, slamming Mycroft into a nearby wall and dragging his arm behind his back into a painful hold. He speaks fast, knowing they won't go unobserved for long, but his words are deadly serious despite their speed.]

I have tolerated your interference in my life up until now, brother mine, but you are overstepping your bounds. Who I choose to associate with has nothing to do with you, and should you or any of your hired idiots lay a hand on John, I can assure you that you will never lay eyes on me again. No amount of cameras will change that. Now walk away, Mycroft, and we will pretend this embarrassment never happened.

[He pushes back from the wall and returns to sitting next to John as if nothing happened at all. Even going so far as to continue the conversation they had been having.]

None of those are even remotely suitable. If we were an item, then I'd expect you to call me Sherlock, anything else is just unnecessary and gauche.

[jumpthegun]

[Admittedly, if they were an item, that show of loyalty and the threat to Mycroft would be just a little sexy. As it is, John just schools his expression to mild irritation instead of smirking as he watches the brothers. No one else gets up to assist Mycroft or pull Sherlock off, everyone seeming to be terribly interested in their phones or looking the other way.

When Sherlock finally lets go, the older man steps away, clutching his twisted arm close to his chest. He's scowling as he meets Sherlock's eye, but it's John he addresses.]

You will regret this, Dr. Watson.

[With that, he turns away and heads for he lifts, pulling out his mobile and dialing a number. He's out of view before John can hear what's being said. A few of the patients applaud lightly and John lets the smirk that's been tugging at his lips finally grow into a proper grin.]

You'll have to deal with babe 'til we're out of here. [He wrinkles his nose at Sherlock's disgust.] Oh! Molly. [Now that Mycroft's been banished, John goes for his mobile again.]

TO: MOLLY
Strike the clothes. We managed to get hold of them. Still could use a ride. Might be able to catch a cab, too. I'll keep you updated. Not sure if Sherlock has cash or one of his cards.

[Or if Mycroft's frozen his accounts to be petty.]

[howdull]

[Sherlock will have to be on alert, he knows that Mycroft is a very dangerous a clever man, and if he has decided to make John sorry for this acquaintanceship, then he will definitely do so.

Still, that's a problem for a later time. They have other things to think of, such as mysterious army majors and Mrs. Hudson.]

Who is this man with Mrs. Hudson? You've never mentioned him before.

[Which seems rude.

A text pings back from Molly.]

TO: JOHN
Ten mins approx. Will park in emergency bay, so be ready.
Molly xx

[jumpthegun]

Major James Sholto, he's my commander from Afghanistan. One of them, I mean. [His voice is distracted as he checks his texts.] We need to head down to the emergency bay as soon as we have your clothes. Molly's picking us up.

Mrs. Hudson said he came to talk to me about my service. He doesn't do social visits. If he's out of his house... somethings wrong. Somethings very wrong. Major Sholto's a recluse. Has been, ever since he was discharged. I was worried it might not be him, but Mrs. Hudson mentioned... he has some very distinctive scarring. [John gestures to his side.]

[howdull]

You've still never mentioned him before.

[It feels like a deliberate omission. He doesn't think that he's deleted that information, he's sure that John just hasn't mentioned it. Odd.]

Tell me about him now.

[Assuming this is the real Major Sholto, even scarring can be replicated fairly easily with good make up.]

[jumpthegun]

[It was something of a deliberate omission.]

I mentioned him when I was trying to figure out who to call to figure out who the Alphabet Woman might be.

[John glances away, knowing full well that Sherlock's either going to press or deduce something embarrassing out of that if he doesn't get on with it.]

I dunno. He's stolid. Loyal, brave, always careful. He's meticulous. If he told you to line up for an inspection, you had to make sure everything was regulation perfect or you'd be doing push-ups 'til your arms fell off. That's how he was on-duty, anyway. And he almost never went off. He's alert, the kind of bloke who's gauging what you're gonna do well before you're thinking about doing it. He was a brilliant tactician. He taught me how to play chess in the officer's mess. Most of the others were too nervous to play against him.

[A fond smile comes to John's lips.]

I always looked forward to going on patrols with him when I could. Especially overnights. He doesn't say much, but he's... What he says means something. He's thoughtful. Knows massive amounts about things you wouldn't even think about. He's been through a lot in his life. Lost his wife to cancer something like ten years ago.

He's one of the most steadfast men I've ever met. Never flinches in the face of danger. Never backs down from a challenge. He's always calm.

[There's a hint of wonder creeping into the doctor's voice and expression.]

[howdull]

[If Sherlock had been anyone else, he might have said that the irritating niggle growing the longer John spoke was jealousy. But of course that's ludicrous, why should it matter to him how many people have managed to impress John with their intellect and garner that sort of admiring praise? It shouldn't. It won't.

He focuses on taking the details in anyway, they could be useful, and deciding that he already doesn't particularly like Major Sholto from what he's heard. Nothing to do with John, naturally, just his own detective's intuition.]

Then perhaps you should have called for his advice on Ms. Matthews.

[Tiny petty comment aside, the nurse appears with his clothes to save him having to say anything else. He just gets up and takes them from her without a word, disappearing into a nearby bathroom to change.]

You alright now, dear? [She pats John on the shoulder in a bracing way.] It's always a shame when the family don't understand.