A Study In Him (Teenlock)

The Third Holmes

John slowly exited the room, aware of the growing tension. Down below in the foyer, the door hid the identity of the mysterious ringer.

"Who is it, Mycroft?"

Mycroft stepped back to allow the man entrance. John didn't recognize him, although he did resemble Sherlock a bit, but the crippled boy beside him stiffened to the point John was sure he'd turned to stone.

"Oh, hello, brother dear," the mysterious man below called up. Sherlock let out an almost inaudible hiss and hobbled back to his room, slamming the door behind him. John's lip parted, questions forming eagerly in his mind. He turned and knocked twice on Sherlock's door. When he didn't answer, he warily pushed open the door and entered.

Sherlock had thrown his crutches on the floor, clearly in a fit, and now lay curled up in a ball on his bed. He faced the wall, but John could hear him very faintly muttering to himself.

"Sherlock?" He asked worriedly, "Who...Is that?"

The out-of-character terrified boy didn't answer. John sat down on the end of his bed and tried to see his face, but it was buried in his pillow.

"Sher--"

Sherlock looked up at him, his eyes wide and filled with water. He was genuinely scared.

"Jesus...Are you okay?"

"DO I LOOK OKAY TO YOU, JOHN?!?" Sherlock shouted, making John flinch. Immediately regret flooded his features, "I-I...I'm sorry John I...I didn't mean to shout."

"It's okay, I understand," John rested a hand comfortingly on Sherlock's, "But...Who is he?"

"Sherrinford Holmes," a voice sounded at the door, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Sherlock buried his face back into his pillow, curling into a tighter ball. John stood up to meet this new man, "John Watson. You too."

Sherlock scoffed into his pillow, but John ignored it.

"So you're...Their brother..."

"The eldest Holmes," Sherrinford said proudly, "Also, please, call me 'Sher'. Most people do."

"Right," John nodded, "I'm just staying here for a bit...My family isn't...Suitable for me right now."

"Oh, not a problem," Sher smiled, "I'm looking forward to getting to know you."

Sherlock suddenly spun around, glaring at Sher with pure gold hatred in his eyes, "Listen you, don't you lay a single bloody finger on him!"

Sherrinford held his hands up innocently, "I wouldn't dream of it, brother dear. I'll take good care of your boyfriend."

"No, you won't," Sherlock stood up, leaning against his bedside table, "You're going to leave this house. Now. You're not welcome here and you know it."

"And who's going to kick me out, eh? Mom? Dad? You're certainly in no condition to chase me out, and Mycroft is...Not exactly in shape."

"GET OUT!" Sherlock shouted, throwing a fork that was on the table for some reason. Sherrinford expertly dodged it, looking completely unfazed.

"No," he said jokingly, "I'm only visiting, I won't disturb your...Shenanigans."

John's cheeks flushed pink and he looked down at the floor. Sherlock clenched his teeth, "Just...Go. For God's sake, go."

"Look, I just want to catch up with my dear brothers!" Sherrinford smiled, "Just like old times."

"NO! No..." Sherlock sat back on the bed, dropping his face into his hands, "No...Please..."