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A Bit Worse	By : VulpineBeesKnees Category: S through Z > Sherlock (BBC) > Sherlock (BBC) Views: 2624 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Chapter List
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After eight hours of fighting the wind whipping around him, helicopters flying up with cameras trying to get the scoop on the man on the tower, and his sleepless night before, Sherlock was furious and exhausted. He had been careful to keep his face hidden, and Mycroft’s men seemed to be managing to keep everyone out, so they’d managed to keep the public outcry to a minimum. Unfortunately, with eight hours to himself he had plenty of time to think about everything going on. Finally a text came from John’s mobile making him cry out in relief.
Good Job Sherlock my boy! I’ll send you your next challenge in the morning!
On shaky legs, he made his way back inside the clocktower. Once he was back on solid ground, the breath whooshed out of him, and for a moment he dropped to his knees, just letting himself calm and regroup before straightening his shirt and heading back down the maintenance stairs. When he emerged out on the street, he grabbed the first lackey he could find, and demanded to see his brother.
“I know he’s here.” he said sharply, “Take me to see Mycroft! Now!” The man hesitated, but when Sherlock shouted at him again, he spoke into his radio and soon was escorted to a small area near the building that had been cleared of other people. Mycroft was directing his lackeys, keeping the media at bay, and shouting into his telephone for Greg to kindly hurry the hell up. When he was in range he snatched the phone from his brother and ended the call.
“Sherlock!” Mycroft snapped, staring at his brother incredulously. He continued in a measured tone, an attempt to keep the situation calm. “You’re acting irrationally. Give me back my phone and come back with me to the estate. We can plan our next move there.”

“No, I will not!” Sherlock exclaimed throwing the expensive phone on the ground harshly, hearing the screen shatter made him feel a bit better, “I told you not to interfere! John is being drugged and your intervention may very well have gotten him raped or worse... I had to watch-”
Suddenly a sharp crack filled the air, and the detective’s head snapped to the side, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth where he’d bitten his lip mid speech as his brother slapped him, hard.
“Sherlock Holmes you will calm down and let me help you.” Mycroft’s calm demeanour vanished, leaving an icy semblance of himself. Sherlock wasn’t listening to his tone as he grabbed the older man’s lapels, shaking him furiously.
“I WILL NOT CALM DOWN.” He roared, “JOHN IS IN DANGER AND YOU WANT ME TO CALM DOWN.” He was screaming, ignoring Mycroft’s attempts to placate him.
“JOHN COULD BE DEAD RIGHT NOW OR WORSE BECAUSE YOU WOULDN'T KEEP YOUR GODDAMNED NOSE OUT IF IT.” Embarrassing prickles were starting to form behind his eyes, and vaguely he felt someone tugging at his collar, but he was in a rage and couldn’t let go of his brother. With a harsh tug he was pulled backwards, his grip on Mycroft’s jacket slipping, and Lestrade filled his vision, growling for him to stop being such a ponce and listen.
"Sherlock what do you think you are accomplishing by fighting us? We’re only trying to help.” He was already more than angry at the younger man for the way he was treating his brother after all the help he’d been giving him, and his fuse was short. Sherlock was flailing in his grasp, and the Detective Inspector managed to catch one fist before the other connected with his jaw. That was the last straw on his tolerance for Sherlock’s attitude and ‘higher than thou’ mindset. In a flash he landed his own punch against the smaller man’s sharp cheekbone, and reared back for another closer to that arrogant mouth. He’d landed two more against the no longer fighting Holmes before a gentle hand on his shoulder stopped him. Mycroft.
He dropped Sherlock like he was burning him and took a few steps back. Everyone’s nerves were running high, and he had just been the first one to really snap. Holding his hands up as if in surrender, he backed away a few more steps and let the elder Holmes go to his younger brother. Sherlock however shoved him away and stood up on his own, wiping away the blood dripping down his chin from a busted lip. One eye was already swelling, and he glared at the two of them with no sense of the hurt they both knew the detective was feeling, only with an intense burning fury.
“Do not follow me. There is no more help you can give me. I have resolved myself to what must be done, and you two are no longer a part of the plan.”
“Sherlock you can’t mean-” The older detective started, but the other cut him off quickly.
“I will kill Moriarty... and the Moran girl if I can. They need to be punished for what they have done to two innocent people and their significant others, but they deserve to die for what they’ve done to John.”
“Sherlock, you know I can’t knowingly let you do that. You help me on cases, you help me catch murderers. I can’t let you become one of them.” Lestrade looked serious and his eyes were pleading with the younger man to stop the nonsense he was spewing.
“I don’t care anymore Lestrade. Do you even understand what is going through my mind right now? I’d never tell him, but the moment John Hamish Watson stepped into my life, he changed the way I lived, he made me better. I had clarity in a chaotic world. The three years I spent alone made me realize just how important he had become to me. You have sentiment I do not, what would you do if it were Mycroft and you were in my position?”
Lestrade shook his head, “You can’t ask me that. I wouldn’t run off and kill them, I would help the police search, and do whatever I could without trying to kill myself in the process.”
“I will not sit by like the victim’s families in the murders I solve and just wait for John’s body to show up on our doorstep! You have no further use to me.” he snarled before turning on his heel and heading into the crowd.
“Sherlock, Stop.” Lestrade called, Mycroft beside him stood close enough that their shoulders touched, wanting to run out and stop his brother but knowing it would only prove disastrous. Sherlock didn’t stop and the silver headed DI pulled his gun from it’s holster beneath his trenchcoat. The elder Holmes let a shaky hand rest on the opposite shoulder as the handgun was leveled on his brother, “Sherlock if you don’t stop I’ll be forced to shoot, I can’t let you do this. God Damnit, I can’t let you run off on your own. Not as a police officer, but more importantly, I can’t let you as your friend. Now come back here and let us help you. You just can’t do this alone...”
The younger Holmes stopped, a handful of paces away. Slowly he turned and took the few steps back until he was just outside of Lestrade’s arm length. The DI started to lower the gun in relief, but Sherlock’s hand shot out, grabbing him around the wrist and forcing him to press the barrel of the cool weapon against his pale forehead. Lestrade’s hand shook as his eyes widened, and he tried to pull away, but the Detective had a death grip around his wrist. He was also fearful of his finger trapped on the trigger by his hand. Mycroft’s hand tightened on his shoulder, and both men’s attention was sharply focused on the younger man before them.
“I will find Moriarty, I will kill him and take pleasure in the light fading from his eyes. Whether I save John or not, this is a promise. So the next time you point this gun at me, you’d better be prepared to pull the bloody trigger. If I can not save John, I’ll do it myself.” Lestrade’s hand was released, and in the moment it took him to blink, Sherlock was disappearing into the crowd, pulling his hood up and slumping his shoulders.
Lestrade watched him go, his hand falling to his side, his entire body trembling now, “Do you think he’ll do it?” he asked, slowly putting his pistol back in the holster.
“My brother is a high functioning sociopath that has become dependent upon his relationship with John Watson. The last three years were hell on him, but he knew someday he could come back. Now, he faces losing the only thing he has come to care about. Greg... With that information in mind,” Mycroft turned to face the other man, his eyes haunted, “You tell me.”
-------------------------------------------------------
Sherlock had meant every word. John had somehow worked his way into his life and burrowed himself deep into the heart detective always claimed he didn’t have. John made him care if he was being ‘not good’ or if he was hurting others, he’d become like a light in the darkness of Sherlock’s lonely world, and that light was in danger of being snuffed out.
In a few precious hours, he had amassed a group of his old homeless network contacts by leaving messages all over London in spray paint on walls in code to tell them when they were meeting and where. However, Sherlock cursed at his wasted efforts when there was no information for him. With promises that they would keep their eyes and ears open for any new information his now diminished network dispersed, leaving the detective with no leads whatsoever. .
After the explosive argument with Mycroft earlier, Sherlock didn’t think it was smart to return to Baker street, so he made his way to the lab at Barts instead. With nothing to test, he sat in a chair frantically racing through his mind. Occasionally he would get a thought and type on the computer before growling and returning to his perch in the corner. A few hours passed and Molly joined him, coming over and smoothing a hand over his shoulder cautiously.
“Greg texted me and told me what happened Sherlock. I’m so sorry.”
“While your sentiment is appreciated Molly, it does not help.”
“Greg also told me you’re trying to distance yourself from everyone. Just know that if there’s anything you need, just let me know alright? How about some coffee. Two sugars?” Sherlock looked up once more, and really saw Molly, even better than he had when he’s asked for her help in his charade.
No longer was she the blushing girl who fawned over him and took his harsh statements without questions, she was a stronger woman and he was sure her boyfriend Derek was a big part of that. Letting his hand cover hers softly, he nodded in agreement.
“Coffee would be nice Molly. I believe I have a long night ahead of me.”
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A Bit Worse