The Lazarus Machine

Chapter 5

Tea went rather appallingly.  John silently observed the restless Sherlock, who only sat long enough to sip his tea and roll his eyes at his elder brother.  Once he'd stood and begun to prowl around the room, John felt a little more comfortable examining the man in more than peeks from behind his lashes.  Sherlock stared so forthrightly at him that he found he could not quite return the gaze.  But now that he was facing away, peering out the windows, he could look at him and not be so observed doing so.

Of course, Lord Sherrinford could clearly see him, but John didn't quite realize that, so taken as he was with Sherlock.

Sherlock was a striking man, to be sure.  Tall, nearly a head taller than John.  His jet hair curled thickly about his head and not in any of the overdone pompous styles of the day.  His jaw was shaven, his skin all the more pale and marble-like framed with his dark sideburns and his amethyst cravat.  His eyes, his smoke-grey eyes, were the most intense John had ever seen.  When they turned on you, they took you apart, piece by piece.  He saw the skill of John's hands in a moment, deciphered the age of his clothes, and pinpointed within three days precisely when John had been injured.

It was rather amazing.

"Your mother died when you were a small boy," Sherlock suddenly rounded the sofa and directed himself at Harry.  "You took it hard, especially when your father remarried so soon after, barely out of proper mourning I'd wager, and the new wife had John here."

"Sherlock, we talked about this.  Leave it alone."  Lord Sherrinford stood, as if his presence held any sway on his brother's tongue.  John could clearly see that it wouldn't, that it hadn't ever.

"No, go on," Harry said.  "I've heard about this.  I'm curious to see it for myself."

"Sherlock, no," Lord Sherrinford intoned, but Sherlock's eyes blazed with triumphant glee.

"John's mother died early as well, probably during childbirth but not his; he was old enough to just remember her, but your father did not remarry after that one.  That made you angry, Harry, for your own mother to be put aside so quickly and John's mother to be mourned for the rest of your father's life.

"John was your father's golden boy.  I mean, just look at him.  He's lovely.  Must be the spitting image of his mother, for he looks nothing at all like you or the portrait above the mantel."

John and Harry flushed for very different reasons. 

"You, however, let the anger fester and worry at you.  It's why you drink far too much now and why John is being forced into a marriage of convenience.  Your convenience, mind you, Harry Watson.  He's always covered for you in the past, held you in much higher esteem than you deserve, and that's why he's going through this marriage without complaint now.  He thinks it will help you, Harry, but I'm not so sure.  And you certainly don't deserve his loyalty."

"Sherlock, enough."  Lord Sherrinford was thunderous.

"That's hardly enough!"

Sherlock fumed, crossing his arms over his chest, face to face with a very angry Mycroft.

"Mr. Holmes, if you please."  The two Holmes turned furious eyes at John, their cutting gazes meant for each other and not for him.  "Mr. Holmes, might you take a turn around the room with me?"

John had not stood to make his offer, had not the time to struggle up from the settee.  His voice seemed to deflate Sherlock's fury, and the man came forward and grasped John's elbow to help him stand.  John tried to smile politely at him for the gesture, but he hated it.  Still, he guided Sherlock to the other end of the sitting room where they could speak lowly without being overheard and Mycroft could make his apologies to a purple-faced Harry.

"That was brilliant.  How do you do it?"

"What?"  Clearly Sherlock had expected another response, a quiet shaming perhaps.

"It was amazing.  How did you figure out all that?  I mean, the war, so many of us have been to war, it's a safe guess."  Sherlock looked to disagree on that point, but he let it go.  "But our mothers, our father, our relationship, that's astonishing.  You were exactly right."

"You're, you're pleased."  Now Sherlock was the one astonished.

"To have Harry put rightly in his place for once?  Yes, quite."

And Sherlock looked once more at this compact army doctor who smiled at him.  Who was amazed by him.

And if anything in the world could make him speechless, it was Captain John Watson.