PARA/DOX

A Bad Plan is Better Than None

Victor was camped in Sherlock's room for the day, as his job was progressively becoming useless since Sherlock was gaining more freedom around the lab. It was within this free time that Sherlock first began to plot the idea for the rescue mission of John Watson. After making sure the sock was securely fastened to the security camera (a miracle evasion technique, perhaps so unrestricted it may not be working at all) he sat down upon his bed and ripped the book from the bodyguard's fingers.
"It's no time for killing mockingbirds, Victor." Sherlock scolded, making sure to jam a bookmark into the open page before tossing the book upon his pillows. He wanted the man's full attention, and while the visor was not allowing him to see the world in real time, the boy was still able to catch a perfect glimpse of his dissatisfaction.
"If not now, when?" Victor whined.
"I've got an idea."
"Oh no." Victor groaned. "I don't think I want to hear it."
"And I don't think you have a choice." Sherlock reminded him. "I know how to get John back."
"Oh no..." Victor repeated. Sherlock merely chuckled, appreciating the man's enthusiasm already.
"Actually it's not as bad as you think. It's better than what anyone else has planned, at any rate!" Sherlock defended.
"And what do they have planned?"
"Absolutely nothing." Sherlock admitted. "Moriarty has given up hope. In fact, he offered my John's job."
"You, some sort of engineer?" Victor chuckled.
"A conceptual engineer, of some sort." Sherlock grumbled. "I declined, because that job isn't open yet. John's still alive, he's still out there. He must be lost, not in any specific time zones, but in the mix of them all. I have to imagine that's wandering about like my brother, not belonging to any specific time, and so he's just sort of...lost. He can't settle, he has no control over where and when he stays put."
"This sounds like a plan that wasn't approved." Victor presumed nervously.
"This is a plan that will never be approved, simply because you'll never tell anyone about it." Sherlock warned. "I don't want anyone to know. Not Moriarty, not even your snitch of a father."
"By now I lie to him about everything. Even the color of your shirts." Victor admitted, sounding particularly proud of himself for his dishonesty.
"Well then you'll lie about this as well." Sherlock insisted. "The idea is simple, really. Moriarty told me that there was something in my blood that made me special. They found it in Mycroft, a certain genetic advantage to time travel."
"I do remember him going through some blood work."
"I witnessed it, unfortunately. I think it's inhumane, but that's not the point. The point is, I'm the only one that will be able to successfully travel time. I'm the only one that has a chance at finding those scientists and bringing them home." Sherlock insisted.
"Yes, but I'd be willing to bet that advantage doesn't get you far. Just because you can understand time doesn't mean you can control it." Victor pointed out. "You have every chance of getting lost out there too, of getting trapped. And then what?"
"I'll try to control it! I've got the best chance at it, the only chance I should think." Sherlock defended. "To my understanding I have visited all time zones imaginable. Time itself has absorbed me into its flesh."
"Ew."
"What I mean is...is when I'm observing a time period I might as well be there. And so, if I can force myself to observe something, say...our present time, I can probably get us there. At least close enough for that machine to catch on and pull us back in." Sherlock pointed out.
"That's far-fetched."
"Everything is far-fetched! This is science that has never been done before, but admit it, it makes some sense."
"It makes sense if this were some sort of whacked science fiction movie! But Sherlock, all these advances we've made have already been documented! This...you...you're a paradox to them! That flash drive can't possibly describe how well you travel through time." Victor complained.
"I was still alive in that world, you know? And in no better shape than I am now!"
"Well then why don't we first check the flash drive, see if there's something John missed?"
"He must have read over the science, if he did something wrong it must have been mechanically." Sherlock protested.
"It's worth a shot, isn't it? Before we go sacrificing a most important player to time itself." Victor pleaded. Sherlock crossed his arms over his chest, staring down at the floor even though he could not see the gaze he was trying to avoid. He hated it when Victor was right. He hated that most intelligent use of logic.
"Fine. But I don't know where to look." He admitted glumly.
"I'd think John's apartment is a safe place to look. I doubt he'd trust it being here, not in the laboratory at any rate." Victor pointed out.
"Well then it'll have to be your job to get it. I'm not allowed to leave here, and if I did we'd have armed guards swarming. You'll have to get into his apartment quick and clean, with no witnesses." Sherlock demanded, jabbing a finger towards Victor, who in his eyes was still explaining his plan of retrieval. After some time Sherlock was able to see the man frown a bit nervously.
"Well he's dead, so I shouldn't..."
"Don't talk like that!" Sherlock demanded, rising to his feet and slapping the bodyguard softly across the face. He didn't mean to hurt him; he only wanted to startle him out of that toxic mindset. "He's not dead, he's lost! Don't ever say he's dead."
"I'm sorry. I meant to say that in the eyes of his landlord he's probably considered a lost cause." Victor admitted. "I doubt the agency is able to disclose the logistics of his disappearance, or his failure to pay rent."
"Well then it will be easier than ever. Just say you're from the agency, collecting important data. It's really not a lie. But avoid talking to them if you can. I imagine they've equipped you with lock picks, things like that?" Sherlock presumed, prodding at Victor's inner jacket pockets to make sure there were some questionably solid packages wrapped in fabric.
"Yes, they've equipped me with some questionable talents." Victor admitted with a hesitant sigh. "I never wanted to use them."
"It's an emergency, a good cause for a bad trade." Sherlock assured. The man stood, Sherlock could feel the weight lift off of the mattress springs. For a while Victor hesitated where he stood, patting his jacket pockets as if to make sure his full inventory was still stored on his person. Sherlock looked up, watching the man's blue eyes as they stared blankly at the wall in front of him. He looked afraid, as if he was more worried about his father and the agency's reaction than to the fate of John Watson.
"Before we go any farther with this, I want to clarify one point." Victor declared at last. Sherlock pursed his lips to show he was listening. "I want you to tell me what exactly is going on between you and John."
"Going on?" Sherlock clarified.
"I know you love him. It's obvious to anyone who knows you. But does he reciprocate? Have you two been doing more during your work sessions than you admit to?" Victor presumed. Sherlock hesitated, leaning back upon his elbows and wondering just how many secrets he ought to admit to. These weren't just his to share, as there was some reputation to be lost with the confession. Some professionality that had been abandoned in favor of a passionate madness.
"Yes, more recently." Sherlock admitted. He couldn't keep the smile off of his face; it was some childish smirk he almost had to wear when revisiting that moment in the lab. The moment when his childhood was essentially erased.
"Right. So that's why you're making all this fuss." Victor presumed.
"Not only because I love him! Not even because he loves me back. It's because I trust him wholeheartedly, he's a good man. He's the only good man I've met within these accursed walls." Sherlock snarled, staring into Victor's long averted gaze as it stood hovered thirty seconds previous.
"Your grudges are insufferable. The lengths I go through for you, and yet you still can't trust me."
"I understand that we make mistakes, and I understand that we all have to do some growing. And, with time, I'm growing to trust you again. I suppose this will be your first real test of that trust." Sherlock presumed.
"Well, I'm happy to get the chance to prove myself. Although it's silly, ridiculous even, to be holding something over my head that never even happened to you." Victor pointed out.
"What happens to my brother might as well have happened to me! We're siblings, our wounds are shared!" Sherlock defended.
"And your attitudes are shared as well, I see." Victor scoffed. "Holmes brothers and their hormones."
"Oh do your job, Victor." Sherlock insisted.
"My job. Ha! As if I get paid for running your illegal errands."
"Do your hobby." Sherlock corrected.
"That's more like it." the man agreed, patting Sherlock on his headband before clicking his heels and retreating towards the door.
"And be careful." Sherlock added, having counted the steps that would have led Victor right against the handle.
"You too. don't do anything rash until I'm back. In fact...best if you keep the door locked." Victor added apprehensively. Sherlock nodded, curling his arms around his chest and trying to fake a brave expression. This was the second time he felt that he had to protect himself from the very agency which housed him, the equivalent of trying to crawl back up the windpipe of the animal which had just eaten him. Victor left without another word, though Sherlock immediately flung upon the lock, bolting the door shut almost as soon as it swung closed behind him.