22Hello ! First chapter in this short (maybe?) story. I wanted to share my vision of s4ep3, because I was kinda disappointed with how it went.
Context: we start with what came before the beginning of the episode, when our duo decided to scare Mycroft.
Enjoy !
Fact number one: he had a sister. Fact number two: Mycroft knew, and he had locked her up for years. Fact number three: she was out, and she shot John?
Sherlock sighed, fingers on his temples. John had been sitting on the armchair facing his own, an angry look painted on his face. He was rubbing the back of his head, where his skull had hit the floor. Sherlock gave him an almost-worried look. Wasn't this too much for him? Mary's death, himself drugged and almost getting killed, and now a woman claiming to be Mycroft's and his own sister had just shot him…
"Sherlock, are you okay?"
He blinked and turned back to John, barely trying to hide his growing smile. John. Tender, caring, sweet John. Who had just been assaulted, but who was still worrying about him. Because John always worried about him. He nodded, his eyes grounded in the doctor's. He could see, behind his soft tone, a raging and boiling anger, at his tensed jawbone, his hands and neck's contracted muscles. John Watson was really, really pissed off.
"Mycroft isn't going to tell me the truth so easily, the detective thought out loud."
"Do you think so?"
John looked like a cat who had found a canary, with a disturbing gleam in his eyes.
"There is a way to make him talk: scare him until he does."
Sherlock raised an eyebrow.
"Do you intend to torture my brother?"
The doctor chuckled. Sherlock locked this delicious sound up into a drawer in the room reserved to John in his Mind Palace.
"No, I just want to give him a good scare, giving him what he has done to you all this time… I'm pretty sure you know what terrifies him… Aside from your sister obviously."
Sherlock closed his eyes, rummaging through all the things about his brother that he gathered through the years.
"There actually is that clown thing…"
John's predatory smile made Sherlock want to kiss him, and he promptly shoved the thought away. Well too disturbing, well too out of place, as it always had been. John might have been attracted to him, a long time ago – so you're unattached, like me – dinner? - neither of us were the first – he shook his head. Not now, Mary. It was all before you, before Rosie. He closed his eyes. He preferred taking refuge in his Mind Palace, as he had always done, than be confronted to John's overly expressive eyes.
A few days later, while they were hidden in the shadows watching a properly terrified Mycroft confess Eurus' existence, Sherlock couldn't prevent himself from thinking John was sometimes way more than a conductor of light. Sometimes, he provided it. He noted that fact on a post-it in John's room, next to the wedding speech he had written for the Watsons. Too bad he hadn't considered that earlier.
End of the first chapter! I hope you enjoyed it. It's my first try at writing in English, so I hope it's not too bad! Let me know if you liked it in the comments. A few chapters are already written, and I'm overjoyed to share this with you.
Love,
Erwaël