Falling For You

Waiting

"Brother Mine," Mycroft's booming voice said from beside the sleeping Sherlock.  His eyes fluttered open and he looked at his older brother sadly.  He'd been asleep in the waiting room of the hospital for three hours while they performed the surgery on John.  He hadn't wanted to fall asleep, but he had this condition where he slept when he was under a lot of stress, and John was certainly stressing him out.  Surprisingly, Mycroft's sudden appearance made Sherlock cheer up a bit.  It meant a lot to him to know that Mycroft actually cared, even if it was under such circumstances.

"What are you doing here, Mycroft?" Sherlock asked even though he was sure he already knew the answer.  Mycroft looked down sheepishly as if there was some kind of information he wished to keep a secret from his younger brother, but he knew better than to try and hide it, especially when Sherlock was in such a state.  

"As soon as I heard about John's... incident," Mycroft began, clutching the handle of his umbrella very tightly.  Sherlock studied him worryingly.  "I began an investigation.  If he does die-"

"He won't," Sherlock countered assertively.  He crossed his arms like a child and held his knees up to his chest.  He didn't even know why Mycroft wanted to say such things.  Why would he even say that? Sherlock found himself beginning to doubt if John Watson was really as strong as he thought he was...

"Well, in case he does, I figured you might want to have some closure," Mycroft explained.

This was music to Sherlock's ears.  Mycroft was the entirety of the British government.  If there was anyone who could find John's almost killer, it was him.  Sherlock smiled slightly, amused at the mere thought of torturing the man responsible.  When he had been shot by Moriarty, John had put three very deserving bullet holes in that arsehole's body without a thought of remorse.  It was about time that Sherlock did the same, but more... his style.

"What's his name?" Sherlock asked.  

Mycroft sighed.  "Sherlock," he said softly, shaking his head.  "It's Sherrinford."

Sherlock's eyes opened wide in horror, their once soft glisten transforming into a storm of fury.  He clenched his fists and seriously fought the temptation to scream.  

"Why can't he leave me the hell alone?" Sherlock yelled.  The various lost souls of the hospital waiting room shot Sherlock dirty looks.  Sherlock lowered his head and gritted his teeth in annoyance.  He remembered seeing Sherrinford for the first time in an eternity.  He remembered how Sherrinford had punished him for feeling emotions.  He had scolded poor Sherlock with an iron fist even though he failed to see his brother in pain.  Sherlock couldn't help but wonder what would happen if his brother could see the pain and havoc he was causing.  He wondered if Sherrinford would stop.  He decided he probably wouldn't have.

"We caught his trail but quickly lost it.  As I'm sure you can imagine, our brother is quite a... difficult man to find," Mycroft said.  "I haven't even heard his name mentioned in-"

"I saw him," Sherlock admitted softly. 

Mycroft stared at his little brother suspiciously.  "How?"

"He reached out.  There was a murder and I found the message he was leaving for me.  I met him and he beat me for feeling for John.  He... he told me I was growing weaker," Sherlock explained.

Mycroft sat up a little straighter, unsure of what to make of this news.  "Sherlock-"

But he was cut off by a small female nurse trotting into the room and standing over Sherlock Holmes, her blonde hair up in a twist.  "Mr. Holmes?  They said you can see him now."

Without another word, Sherlock flew out of his seat and raced down the hall to see his love, leaving Mycroft alone, as always.  Mycroft didn't mind Sherlock being gone.  It gave him time to think about what he was going to do to Sherrinford for hurting his little brother.  He thought he had taught him a lesson when he blinded the bastard and got him shipped off to the loony bin, but it seemed as though he'd have to pull something else out of his sleeve... something that not even Mycroft was sure he could pull off.