With it being being nearly a half a year since his best friend’s abduction, John became a shell of a man. Sure, he put on a brave face for the sake of the people who still cared about him, but in reality he was a dead man walking. His therapist asked him in his last session what he would say upon his death. He lied, because his answer was ‘finally’ after the moths of hell. He wanted it all to end. He lived through Sherlock dying once, he wasn’t sure he could do it again, not without Mary.
On his way home, a black car pulled beside John on the street. The car door opened to show the solum face of the elder Holmes brother, “Doctor Watson. We need to talk.” Mycroft stated, opening the door for him. John complied, knowing it was pointless to argue, and he was too tired to. He slides into the car to settle upon the leather seats. Mycroft signals his driver to proceed. “Its been a while, Mycroft.” John says softly, making small talk. “I havent seen you since the...ceremony at Scotland Yard.” John says softly.
Mycroft eyed the doctor, reading him in a very Holmes-like manner. Mycroft breaks the gaze and looks down at his umbrella that his hands were resting on. “I am afraid this is not a social call. I have been trying to limit my contact with you for reasons I think we both know.” Mycroft states softly. John nods, understanding. Despite his efforts to say otherwise, Mycroft loved his brother. Seeing the doctor without his baby brother's hovering shadow was painful beyond words. John knew this and seeing Mycroft was also painful. Mycroft would never admit this, but he and Sherlock were more similar than they would ever know. Seeing Mycroft, John was reminded of his best friend. It was almost like Sherlock’s memory hovered around Mycroft like a ghost.
“So if this is not a social call, what is this?” John asks. “I need your help.” came the answer. John scoffs, “You are the British government, what on earth could you need me for.”
“It pertains to the matter of the heart.”
“I am afraid I don’t have one. It disappeared with your brother.”
“Well...we found it.”
“....What.”
“It’s Sherlock, John. We found him.”
There’s a stunned silence from the doctor as his throat closes up. “Is he-?” John rasped. “Alive? I guess you could say so. But he’s a shell of a man.” Mycroft stated, suddenly looking very old. “What are we waiting for? We need to go get him.” John barked, eyes on fire. “I would if I could. But Sherlock is in the company of Jim Moriarty.” Mycroft sighed. “Oh my god...what has that idot gotten himself into.”John groaned. “I am afraid you have it backwards. You think that Sherlock is kidnapped. but it’s not the case. They are working consensually together. I gather to go after the people who kidnapped Sherlock. Which brings us back to you and I John. You knew Sherlock best, better than me even. How could this have happen, to be working with his adversary.” Mycroft asks.
John stews over the information for a moment and suddenly it all clicks. “Oh...no…” John groans. “What?” Mycroft asks. “They...broke him. The people who kidnapped Sherlock. They broke him. They broke the most brilliant mind in London.”John gasps. “Then my worst fears are confirmed.” Mycroft states, rubbing his face with his hands.
“What now?”
“I wish I knew.”
YOU ARE READING
Mirrors
FanfictionSherlock has has vanished without a trace. Kidnapped by sinister forces that riles even the vast crime web of the Crime King Moriarty. John is at his wits end trying to track down his best friend. But as the weeks pass, the odds of finding his frien...
