Not Afraid

Chapter Two - An Admission

            Sherlock still hadn't moved late into the evening and by now, John was past worrying. He was downright terrified. Mycroft hadn't returned his call, Mrs Hudson had delivered roast pork for dinner which was one of Sherlock's favourites when he wasn't working, Rosie was tucked up in her cot and sleeping soundly and John was pacing in front of the window again. Something had to be done. He strode over to the kitchen and picked up his phone, intent on ringing Mycroft over and over again until the pompous prick picked up.

"Mycroft, you pick up your phone right now, you understand?" John left the second message of the day. Then he rang again, leaving a slightly angrier message. Then again, with some very curt words that he wouldn't dare say in front of Mrs Hudson. Then again, just telling Mycroft that he'd damn well walk to the Diogenes Club and shout until someone came. Then-

"Will you ever run out of credit?"

"Mycroft," John said, never feeling so relieved to hear his voice. It was curt as always and carried frustration and a higher intelligence that John found most irritating.

"What do you want, John?" Mycroft also sounded tired.

"It's about Sherlock. What the hell did you say to him today?" John asked in an even tone which he thought was admirable, given that he'd really have liked to punch Mycroft in the face.

"Why?"

John paused a moment, taking a deep breath. "You know why. You know your brother better than anyone."

"Lately," Mycroft said quietly, "I'm not so sure that's entirely true."

"What's that supposed to mean?" John demanded, attempting to keep his temper in check. "Now you listen to me, Mycroft Holmes, you said something to Sherlock and he's been in some kind of trance for the entire day and I have no idea what to do. He won't talk, he won't move, he won't even blink. It's like he's lost himself in his damn mind palace with his eyes wide open and it's because you said something to him, NOW WHAT DID YOU SAY?!"

John sucked in air, not meaning to have shouted. His voice echoed for a moment in the kitchen, leaving a hollow sound behind it. But Mycroft seemed shocked into silence. All John could hear was his uneven breathing crackling over the phoneline. It hissed and clicked for several seconds before Mycroft replied.

"Tell him I'm sorry."

John could hardly believe his ears. That was it? In a very furious and low tone with his teeth almost gritted, he snarled, "Tell him what?"

"You heard me, Doctor Watson," Mycroft said quietly and hung up. After staring at the screen (call disconnected) for a second, John hurled his phone across the room where it slammed into the fridge and fell to the floor with a crash, cracking the screen and popping the back off, revealing the battery.

"What's going on?" Mrs Hudson's timid voice came from the door into the kitchen and John turned, still feeling very angry, to see her standing in the doorway, face a picture of worry.

"Never you mind," John snapped, immediately regretting his words. He had no right to speak to Mrs Hudson like that, he knew it well, but the damage was done. Mrs Hudson took the hint and scuttled, leaving John feeling guilty and wrong. He glared at a rack of test tubes on the bench before entering the sitting room again and throwing himself into his chair with a great sigh, looking at Sherlock.

"Sherlock," John said, keeping his voice steady and low. "Sherlock, I don't know what to do. Okay? Uh..." he paused, unsure of what to say. Then he gritted his teeth. "Mycroft says he's sorry."

There was a brief moment where John just hated everything in the entire universe in a single heartbeat. Everything from this room to Mycroft to London to the far reaches of the galaxy. No one said life was going to be easy, and John liked it that way. He didn't want to live a boring, easy life. But he also wished that sometimes, the world would actually be on his side for once. And then the bitter thoughts were gone and there was a soft sound from his companion.