Cabinmates | Johnlock (teenlock)

Chapter 12: And... Click

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Cabinmates

Chapter 12: And... Click

Week 3 - Day 17

"So, let me get this straight... You want to take Sherlock's place?" Mycroft sat, his leg crossing over the other, facing John with the same deadpan face that his younger brother inherited.

"Y-yes. If that's alright." John twiddled his thumbs nervously as he stared at the floor, avoiding Mycroft's gaze so it was slightly easier for him to speak.

The two were currently in Mycroft's cabin. It was a cabin -much nicer than the cabins the students were in- that was owned mainly for faculty use only. But, being the assistant principal of Baskerville High had its perks apparently. He was the only one allowed to stay in such a cabin, while the other teachers and chaperones had to stay in the student cabins.

Now here the two were, Mycroft sitting comfortably in an arm chair, as John sat at the edge of the matching sofa. Each of his muscles were tense with just the thought of him being in the presence of the assistant principal in his own cabin. John felt the necessity to act more than just proper in this situation alone.

Mycroft un-crossed his legs, planting both of his shoe-less feet on the ground so he could lean forward on his knees. His stare intensified on John, as if he was analyzing every crease, every mark, every line on the young man's face. "Sherlock doesn't know you're here, does he?"

John gulped.

"That's what I thought." With that, he leaned back into the arm chair and crossed his leg back over. "He doesn't want to put the burden on you. To take his own problems into your hands might be too much for him. You must be careful."

"That's the thing, Sherlock's problems are his problems alone." John then looked up and met Mycroft's gaze. "I don't mind doing the bloody running for him at all. Honestly, I would even go as far as that Sherlock is acting a tiny bit ridiculous."

At this statement, Mycroft's mouth twitched slightly. Something, somewhere deep within his mind, had snapped. It was a tiny string to be broken, so tiny that neither really noticed the change of tension in the room.

"You don't understand, John." Mycroft's voice had become slightly colder than previously. "Sherlock has been carrying baggage ever since primary school. And the weight keeps on piling and piling and piling... until snap." Mycroft snapped his fingers for emphasis. "His legs can no longer carry him. His legs snapped last night, John, and it will take ages for them to heal. And when a bone is broken, the slightest touch... could make someone scream."

Mycroft stared at John and John stared back uncomfortably. After a moment's hesitation, John managed to mutter, "I apologize. I was not being considerate."

"No reason for apologies, John. All I'm trying to say is; Sherlock is broken now, and you and I both need to try to understand how he's feeling."

"And what about the running?"

"Make Sherlock do it."

"What!?" John half-way yelled and groaned as he attempted to understand Mycroft's reasoning.

"John," Mycroft warned, before continuing. "Sherlock needs to overcome this. It may not seem like the best at the time, but him winning is the only thing that'll bring him back to his cocky attitude." Mycroft smiled slightly to himself, as if remembering all of the times Sherlock would boast about himself when they were growing up together. "Trust me, John. It's for his own good. It may not seem like that now, but it really is. Just wait and see."