For Only You (Teenlock!/Johnlock)

Chapter 25: The Grief of Friends

Sherlock's P.O.V

I awoke hours after John's loving words; each soft syllable had grounded me through my short detox, like a nail holding down a flyaway plastic bag; he had survived through the rain and wind, the rust and constant decay of life. I had to admit, seeking heroin as an escape for my grief had not been my best decision; yet, I could not deny the thrill that it gave me. Possibly, if I calculated the dosage right... it could be used a catalyst for my train of thought. Since John finally deemed me fit to be detached from his beastly drip, I had spent every minute of time that I could spare on gathering as much information as I could, each and every piece of knowledge on Molly's disappearance and the circumstances surrounding it. There was no time for heroin.

It was almost painfully obvious that Moriarty was connected somehow, but I needed solid proof, something concrete to make sure that justice was found. A phenomenal issue surrounded his double identity, for as far as most people knew, James Moriarty had never existed, only Richard Brooke. It was impossible to convict a man that had never existed, and Richard Brooke would never be believed to commit such a crime.

There was no case file to help me; for all anyone believed, Molly Hooper's sudden disappearance was nothing but a teenage girl running away from school.

I knew better than to believe that Molly would be so careless.

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Mycroft's P.O.V

There was nothing. The best men that I had been able to discreetly get involved had not found a single shred of evidence to prove that this was a kidnapping. They had found nothing the first time, nor the second or third. We had been looking for hours, and even I had began to doubt my brother's theory.

"Gregory... he-"

"I know, Myc," Greg interrupted me, his voice soft and sad, showing that this meant just as much to him as it did to my brother.

I pulled him over to the side, away from the prying eyes of the workers. Contrary to what Sherlock believed, I was not allergic to showing kindness, and I rested my hand on his arm, sighing softly at the immediate return of his grip. "You were romantically interested in her... before, weren't you?"

It did not upset me; I was more than capable of accepting that many men had understood love before I indulged in my wish to explore a deeper relationship with Gregory. Even so, the small nod of his head brought new feelings of sadness into my chest.

"I... I am sorry for the incompetence of these men," I whispered, surprised to feel Gregory's arms guide me into a steady embrace. He was a phenomenal man, and, because I knew that his dignity was important to him, I pretended not to see the single tear that rolled down his cheek, like the last droplet of water hanging off an empty tap.

There were many wounds yet to be healed by the endless hands of time.

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A yell pierced the ear piece, crackling the speaker from the sheer force of Sherlock's angered cry. Barely audible, the soft sound of John's voice could be heard, hushing Sherlock, begging him to be calm and trying to convince him that it was okay.

"I assure you, brother, I have had the best people we could find on it," I muttered. My drifting gaze finally settled on the orange burn of the sun dipping beneath the clouds; the unforgiving promise of the end of another day. There was little time left before we would have to actually begin on with our lives again. It was almost time to move on.

"No! He can't get away with this!" he bellowed, his deep voice crackling like a fire that was slowly dying out, like the last few breaths of a dying man. I had never known that she meant so much to Sherlock, yet I suppose that it was a revelation for him also.

I pushed open my umbrella as the rain began to pour down, each drop echoing as loud as thunder as it bounced off the thin fabric that shielded me from the harsh cold. A deep sigh pushed past my lips, billowing a smoke of fog into the air. Looking up at they graying sky, the truth was painful to have to admit out loud.

"He already has, brother mine."

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A/N: Thank you to SherlockHolmesSerHol for proof reading this and making it fantastic! -N.H