BBC Sherlock Holmes and the Nightshot Experiment (COMPLETE)

4. Things Change

Slowly Sherlock let his hands drop from his ghostly face. Mycroft sat next to him, impatiently drumming his figures against the side of the wooden seats, putting his younger brother on edge. His dark brown hair was a little longer than it is now and his face looked younger and more innocent. He was only twenty one and already he was beginning to develop worry lines across the top of his forehead. Bags drooped from under his eyes, it had been another terrifying sleepless night. Mycroft looked the most casual Sherlock had seen him in years. The twenty eight year old was wearing a shirt with no tie and regular brown trousers. His dark ginger hair was also a little longer than it is now.

Sherlock's finger tips fiddled with the phone in his pocket. He had been toying with the idea of phoning his parents for a while but he knew that he couldn't break his promise to Charlotte. Once again he had tried to contact Grace but she had not replied. Anger flushed up through his body. Where was she now? When he needed her most, where was she? Mycroft put a comforting hand on his shoulder but the detective pushed it away. Nothing could comfort him. He would not feel better until this dreadful experience was over.

It was rather stuffy in the hospital waiting room. Sherlock couldn't decide whether it was his nerves or the heating in the room. Whatever it was Mycroft was feeling it to and had folded his jacket neatly on the back of the chair. The waiting room was full of nervous looking people all of them either twiddling their thumbs or reading a book or a newspaper. Nobody was talking except for a couple in the corner who were sopping quietly to themselves. The walls were all white making the room look more like a cell than a waiting room. Sherlock studied the man opposite him. He had short blonde hair and large round spectacles that rested on the end of his nose. A magazine lay open of his lap. He was clearly an expectant farther. He could tell by the way he anxiously shook his car keys like a rattle in his left pocket. He was obviously wondering about what life with a child would be like.

A tear escaped down his cheek but he quickly wiped it away with the cuff of his blue shirt. So Mycroft couldn't read his face he stared down at the ugly green carpet and brushed it back and forth with his shoes. "We should tell them" Mycroft suddenly stated out of the blue "They are our parents they have a right to know" Sherlock didn't reply for a while until he was sure he wouldn't break down.

"We promised Mycroft, we can't tell them until Charlotte says so" He whispered and drew his gaze towards the door. "Anyway what good will it do them now?" Mycroft nodded although he didn't entirely agree with the promise Sherlock had made.

"She didn't tell you who the farther is?" Mycroft inquired even though he knew that he wasn't going to get an honest answer.

"No" Sherlock lied. At that moment a nurse stumbled into the waiting room. Sherlock could tell by her faecal expression that she had had a long day and couldn't wait to get back to her home. Gingerly she brushed her mousy brown hair behind her ear.

"Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes?" the two boys turned their heads in unison. "Your sister wants to talk to you" 

******************************

"Sherlock? Sherlock? Sherlock!" John clicked his fingers in front of the consulting detectives face pulling him out of his deep daydream. His eyes suddenly flicked open and darted towards the doctor without moving his head. He was slumped lazily over his couch draping his blue dressing gown over the edge. A packet of nicotine patches lay open on the desk but he couldn't be bothered to reach out his hand. He couldn't remember how long they'd been here. Sherlock had a habit of losing track of time when he was alone with his restless mind. John sat down on his chair like he used to when they were living together. He seemed slightly amused at the pile of biology books that Mycroft had neatly placed back on the leather, but had quickly removed them and wiped the smile of his face. 

Sherlock studied John for a moment. John didn't mind anymore, he was used to it. He had several creases on his shirt like it hadn't been ironed and something white spilt on his black trousers. "It's cheese sauce" John revealed, catching Sherlock’s wandering stare. Then slowly he chuckled to himself facing away from his companion, eventually he could contain his amusement to longer and started to laugh.

"John? What is it? Why are you doing that?” Sherlock questioned, pausing his deductions for a moment.

"I'm not blind you know" John chuckled "You've but books on my chair, you've not thrown out any of my old newspapers and you've got a new skull. I think you miss me!" Sherlock remained as expressionless as he could manage and tilted his head back slightly. His dark curls lay in a ring around his head, spread out on the dusty, grey sofa. 

"Will she be okay?" Sherlock then asked after a small pause.

"Yea she'll be fine. I'm going back to my house so you'll need to keep an eye on her. I've left a bowl of water and some bandages on her desk. Change them every hour if she continues to bleed. After five hours if she's still bleeding then we go and call an ambulance. Okay? Sherlock? Sherlock!" John stomped back over to his friend and repeated the act of clicking his fingers in front of his face. "Sherlock!" 

Sherlock broke once more from his mind palace and nodded to John. Change the bandages every hour, after five hours and she's still bleeding, hospital. Yes he understood. Grace had once been a household name in the Holmes' family for years. He knew that he could look after her for a little while, it was the least he could do for her. However after that Sherlock wanted her gone. Gone forever.