Fic: We're The Same (Sherlock Holmes)
Title: We’re The Same
Author: laurieisme (aka revolution25)
Fandom: BBC Sherlock 2010
Spoilers: TGG, but not the end, the end is different in this fic.
Rating: R for subject matter.
Warning: Violence, swearing, character death.
Summary: Takes place right after A Good Man . John has chosen the man he wants to be, now can he live with that?
Author’s Note: Read A Good Man first, you wont understand what’s going on here if you don’t. This part is just as angst-y as the first one, if you’re looking for kittens sitting on double rainbows of happiness you wont find it here. I will be writing one more of these, in case people are worried with this ending.
Sherlock opens his eyes to a world of blue hues.
The first movement he sees is John swimming away from them.
Wisps of blood are pooling around Moriarty’s head, the movement in the water disturbs them until they dissipate.
He feels a tug on his collar, Lestrade, trying to get him to the surface.
He doesn’t care; all he can do is watch John saving his arch nemesis and thinks back on Moriarty’s words before John arrived.
I’ll burn the heart out of you.
He was right.
*
John pulls Jim up, away from the water.
Jim reaches out to him, trying to bring him closer and John lets him.
John doesn’t know how to say no to him.
Jim finally finds what he’s reaching for, John’s hand.
John right hand goes to the top of Jim’s head, gently stroking, ‘It’s alright. I’ve got you.’
I’ve done this to you, John thinks.
He doesn’t just mean the bomb.
*
John’s feet hit the ground a half a second before his hand and he runs.
His brain doesn’t even process what the sound was that woke him, he just moves towards it.
Most people would run away from loud noises, John runs to them.
He looks down with hazy eyes to see the source, a bundle writhing, trying to get somewhere but not knowing how to do it.
He lifts the mop of black hair out of the crib and checks his nappy. He goes to the kitchen and quickly makes a bottle.
Eager little hands reach up and try and take hold when the bottle is put to its mouth as they try to blink away their earlier tears.
One hand clutches to John’s thumb instead.
‘It’s alright, I’ve got you.’ John smiles as he strokes black hair.
*
The ambulance comes, but John wont let go.
John can’t let go.
They have to work around him.
Before the ambulance leaves John looks out the window and sees Sherlock’s face across the parking lot.
Their eyes connect and don’t break until the ambulance makes a turn and Sherlock is no longer in sight.
He can’t read what Sherlock was thinking, but he feels like it’s the last time he’ll ever see him.
He’s chosen a side after all.
*
A few months after their father dies Harry fumbles her way into the house laughing.
John stands very still hands clenching tightly at his sides.
Jim hides himself behind John.
A woman enters the room, long hair, long chains, long skirt, long limbs motioning inwards.
‘Who wants to give Mummy a hug?’
Harry smiles in triumph at what she brought home.
‘I wish it was you.’ John still kept still, but vibrated with rage, “I wish you were dead and not dad. Actually that’s not true. I just wish you were dead, in a ditch somewhere where you belong.’
‘I decided to come back to try and be a real mother to you three,” She tilts her head to try and look behind John, ‘Is that my little Jimmy?’
‘I don’t know you,’ Jim says into John’s back, trying to get closer to John and further away from the stranger.
‘I’m your mum Jimmy,’ she tries to walk closer but John stops her.
‘It’s always been the three of us it will always be the three of us, we don’t need you. More importantly we don’t want you.’ John raises his voice just a little, more than he wanted to; he never wanted her to see that she’s gotten to him.
‘Harry is happy to see me, aren’t you darling,’ She turns to where her daughter is sprawled on the chair.
‘Harry is drunk off her face, you might as well be a pink elephant,’ John says when Harry’s head rolls into her own lap as she giggles.
‘You just need time. I understand. And don’t worry, I wont sue for custody of Jimmy, anyone can see he’s happiest with his big brother.’
‘I hate you,’ John can feel the rage in him uncoiling and before he can stop it, it’s broken past all of his barriers, ‘I hate you!’
‘John,’ his mother’s voice sounds even calmer than before, ‘Your father would be so disappointed in you. To see you like this?’
Her words cut into his soul and he bleeds.
She can see it written in his eyes, and so subtly no one else sees it; she smiles.
*
‘You can’t go in there, it’s just next of kin,’ The nurse says to Lestrade.
Sherlock turns and looks at Lestrade.
‘Nurse,’ Lestrade addresses her showing his badge, ‘Next of kin is in there now?’
He and Sherlock can plainly see John sitting next to Moriarty’s bed holding his hand through the window on the door.
‘Yeah that’s who’s on the paperwork.’
She leaves and Sherlock hangs onto a wall for support all while watching John’s shoulders through the window.
Lestrade feels useless. He was so close. Sherlock was so close to being really human.
Betrayal will make him revert back to what he was before Watson.
*
‘I know, it’s just, I’m in medical school I can’t really afford a solicitor.’ John pauses and turns his back oh his brother sitting at the kitchen table, ‘I just need to make sure she doesn’t get custody of my brother… I do understand parental rights, I understood it the first forty times you said it but what you don’t seem to understand is that she shouldn’t be allowed to take care of a budgie much less an entire person. Thank you for nothing.’
John slammed the phone down and exhaled before he turned back to Jim.
‘She said she wouldn’t,’ Jim said.
‘She brought it up, which means she will. Don’t worry about it; just finish your maths assignment.’
*
Lestrade enters the room alone, and stands for a moment, unable to figure out where to begin.
‘Just start asking questions.’ John said not looking away from Moriarty.
‘So you heard the name Moriarty and you knew? You didn’t feel the need to share anything with the police.’
‘Sherlock was so obsessed, Jim was too. The game. The game between the two of them.’
‘But the pips, all of it, you knew all of it and you didn’t think that maybe if you shared it you could have saved lives?’
‘I never knew. He never tells me his business. I never ask and he never tells. So I wouldn’t have to know what he’s done. That’s the deal we had.’
‘You and Moriarty?’ Lestrade tries to clarify.
‘Jim and I, yeah.’ John corrects.
John sighs and continues, ‘Moriarty is just some astronomer from the nineteenth century, he always said he grabbed the name out of the sky.’
‘His name isn’t Moriarty?’ Lestrade asks confused.
‘He said Jim Watson won’t strike fear into anyone’s heart. It’s hard to head a criminal organization with that kind of name.’
Lestrade nods and leaves, his feet working with their own brain power because he just feels numb. He takes his phone out when he’s around the corner and sees it’s been on this entire time. He looks at the number dialled and hates himself for not being more observant.
‘Sherlock.’
The line goes dead.
*
It happens the same way it happened when his father died, in the middle of class someone from the office asks to talk to the professor and a moment later they both look back at him.
There isn’t enough air in his lungs, he doesn’t think there ever will be.
The professor motions him towards them and John moves between his classmates not caring at the stares he gets.
‘What is it? Is it Harry?’
‘You should come with me Mister Watson.’ The office assistant says in a calm voice.
‘Who died?’ He can’t even bring himself to say the other name he’s thinking of.
‘I just need you to come with me, there’s a police inspector waiting for you in the office.
He follows wordlessly, trying to ignore the sense of relief he felt when he thought of who else it could be.
*
John breathes a sigh of relief when black eyes open up and meet his. He quickly calls for the nurse and dips a small sponge in water and puts it up to Jim’s lips to suck.
‘Do you want to sit up a little?’ John asks ready to reach behind Jim’s head.
‘You tried to kill me,’ Jim mouths more than says.
John shook his head, ‘No. I tried to stop you.’
Jim smiles, ‘How did it feel to murder my cabbie?’
John feels sick with himself, but he has to answer truthfully, ‘Nothing. I didn’t feel anything.’
Jim’s smile is wider as he takes John’s hand, ‘Like me.’
*
John has one hand around Harry and the other around Jim’s shoulders as the body is lowered in the ground.
‘You got your wish,’ Harry turned her head to John as she sobbed; ‘She died in a ditch just like you asked. I hope you’re happy.’ She turned back to casket.
John turned to look at Jim. Jim turned his head and smiled.
John knew. It was like watching the news and seeing Carl’s face all over again. He wanted to scream this isn’t what he wanted; he’d never really want anyone to die.
He holds on tighter to Jim, and again he does nothing.
*
Sherlock wasn’t doing anything. He was sitting in his chair occupying his mind with nothing.
Mycroft was warned, there hadn’t been an experiment done in a week. Mrs. Hudson was scared out of her mind.
‘This is all for Doctor Watson isn’t it. If he isn’t here I don’t see much point in carrying on like this.’ Mycroft said playing with his umbrella.
‘Married.’
‘I didn’t catch that,’ Mycroft smiled.
‘He was married the whole time I knew him.’ Sherlock said still refusing to concentrate on anything with his eyes.
‘Oh really? To whom pray?’ Mycroft was genuinely curious.
‘Moriarty,’ Sherlock spat.
Mycroft couldn’t help but laugh.
Sherlock finally turned his attention to his brother. ‘What?’
‘You’ve misjudged the situation severely.’ Sherlock still didn’t understand so Mycroft spelled it out for him, ‘Moriarty is not a Watson by marriage but by blood. I assume he tried to get rid of all evidence he ever existed once he started his criminal organization. I have a newfound respect for Doctor Watson, trying to raise such a… problematic brother is something I am keenly aware of myself.’
Sherlock let out a couple of deep breaths and asked, ‘Brother?’
Mycroft smiled indulgently, ‘Little brother, yes.’
Sherlock brought his knees up to his chest, put his head down and started crying.
Mycroft didn’t make any movement or gesture to stop him. He never did.
He just sat in his chair playing with his umbrella and waited it out.
*
John went to go take a shower in the doctor’s locker rooms. Harry was sitting with Jim, who was a day away from leaving the hospital and going straight into jail.
Both of his hands were cuffed to the railings of the bed, he didn’t seem to notice them.
‘You’re not going to turn over a new leaf are you?’ Harry finally asked.
‘Do you expect me to?’ Jim laughed at the thought of it.
‘For John. I mean he nearly killed you, do you know what that’s done to him?’
Jim smiled in a way Harry knew was dangerous, it meant he found whatever was about to happen fun.
‘What about what you’ve done to him?’ Jim said, ‘You’re the oldest, but it’s always been him taking care of the both of us. You with your drunken nights and me with my… proclivities.’
‘I don’t head a crime syndicate.’ Harry said flatly.
‘But you do profit from it. When was the last time you ever had to pay a bar tab? When was the last time you had a job?’ Jim tried to read any real answer from her face, but she just stood silent. ‘Soon John will leave Sherlock and will come take care of me, rightly so as you say he did nearly kill me. Then he can start working for me, he is rather good with a gun, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Why are you doing this?’ she finally chokes out.
‘It has always been the three of us; it will always be the three of us.’
Harry shivers.
Jim smiles.
*
When John is in Afghanistan he feels like his job is to watch people die.
The soldiers that he takes care of are usually not much more than a few chunks of tissue that can still talk and scream about the pain, but will always die.
Those who get sent home usually have a limb or two missing, but much more than just what they physically lost, is gone.
He puts stitches and plasters on but it’s never enough, he never actually heals anyone.
Day after day goes by, and he feels more and more like a soldier first, and a doctor second.
He’s always been good at hurting people, at watching people die; he’s never cured anyone.
In the desert with salt and sand in the air the memory of his father seems to be so far away he wonders if he really existed at all. He feels like he just imagined a good man, someone to try and be like, because now he can’t tell the difference between right and wrong and wonders if there ever was a difference.
*
John pulls the jumper over his head and rubs his hair with the towel once more. Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror he turns to look at himself full on, dropping the towel in the process.
The jumper seems out of place now, like it doesn’t belong. Once, before the pool, when he still had hopes of becoming a good man it was a reminder of what he could be, and like his father it always gave him comfort.
But now he’s different. Sherlock would ask him to leave, if he hadn’t already chucked his things, and he was probably going to be arrested soon.
He took off the jumper and looked down at it, as if it was one his father had and not a poor facsimile.
Hope was wrapped up in a grey jumper. The one thing he ever wanted in life and he had to give it up.
He chose his side, and good men don’t associate with murdering criminal consultants.
His father was always kind, patient, loving; he always knew where the line was. He saw good and evil so clearly, John felt deficient, he was missing something crucial to being human.
Like me Jim had said.
Yes, like Jim.
John put the jumper down, away from him, and left.
*
‘Have you ever needed my help?’ John asks.
‘Why would you ask that?’ Jim comes around his too large desk and sits next to John.
‘I just see all of this,’ John motions around the office, ‘And I think every time you said you were scared or that you needed me, you didn’t did you?’
‘Of course I needed my big brother,’ Jim’s acting affronted, but that’s all it is, an act.
‘You didn’t need me to kill Carl. Or mum. You’ve never really needed me have you? Everything that I helped cover up for you, why was that? Just to make me do things I never wanted to do?’
‘I never forced you to do anything. You were the one that didn’t tell Dad about Carl. You were the one who told Dad I didn’t need to keep going to therapy after what I did to those mice. I never asked for any of that.’
John is unable to look up from the floor, ‘It wouldn’t have helped would it? If you kept going to therapy? You never would have changed.’
‘And therein lies the lesson, we are what we are John, you and I are not as different as you think.’
‘I want to be,’ John says and wants to curl tighter into his jumper.
‘You wont be.’
*
John tries to return to the hospital room, but there are nurses and doctors surrounding Jim, trying to start his heart up again.
Being carried down the hall Harry was fighting the guards, screaming John’s name.
John doesn’t really have a choice, as much as he wants to run, he sits and waits. About fifteen minutes later he sees movement out of the corner of his eye. He looks down the hall to see Sherlock’s dark curls facing away from him.
Even though they don’t talk, they don’t acknowledge each other’s existence, there’s a thread of electricity connecting them. John closes his eyes and clings to it.
Its thirty minutes later when the doctor talks to him.
Harry tried to smother Jim with a pillow.
‘I know this must be difficu-‘
‘Don’t. I’m a doctor, I don’t need your bedside manner, just tell me.’ John says.
John looks at him, you’d want the same.
‘Total brain death. We have him on life support. You are the next of kin, and we need you to tell us we can take him off.’ He pauses but decides to say anyway, ‘He’s healthy, and a match.’
John smiles sadly, ‘I didn’t figure him for an organ donor.’
The doctor looks John in the eyes, he seems to be pleading, ‘You are next of kin.’
‘When?’ John asks.
‘The next on the list has about a week.’
John puts his head in his hands, ‘I’ll need some time.’
‘She’s eight.’
John looks up to see the doctor’s face. He’s unapologetic; of course John would be too if the situation was reversed.
‘My sister just tried to kill my brother and now you want me to finish him off, I’m going to need some time.’
The doctor gives him a sympathetic look, but before he leaves he says, ‘You know as well as I do, he’s already dead.’
*
‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’
‘I want to help people,’ I hurt them so much already, I need to try and even it out.
‘Is there someone you want to be like? Superman? Robin Hood?’
‘I want to be like my dad. He always tells me when something is wrong.’
The entire class falls silent to stare at John.
He must be different than them.
*
‘I’m sorry John.’
Harry is in cuffs in a Scotland Yard interrogation room. John is the only one she’ll talk to. He wonders if she even realizes when she does these awful things to him.
‘I know I’ve never been your big sister, but I had to be, just this once. I had to stop you from getting dragged down further. You’re not the same as us.’
John shakes his head, he doesn’t understand what she’s talking about.
‘Jim and I. We were always like mum. She wasn’t even there but I guess the poison was in there from the start.’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ John tries to hold back the tears but it’s getting harder every second he passes in that room.
‘You were trying to protect us,’ tears are rolling unchecked down her face, ‘You were always trying to save us from ourselves. Keep us safe from the outside world.’
John puts his head down on the table trying not to cry in the full view of Scotland Yard.
‘That’s why you did those things, I know that. I always hated myself for needing you to do that… to sacrifice all that,’ Harry kisses the back of his head and rests her own on his, ‘You’re like dad. I know you don’t see it, but you are. I know it’s always seemed so far away, and I know that it’s my fault but… You can be a good man.’
John lifts his head and clutches to his sister.
She doesn’t know all that he’s done, what he still has to do, he knows she’s wrong.
In his heart he feels a faint flicker of hope rise up from the darkness.
*
‘You don’t have to do so much John,’ His father wraps his warm hand around him, ‘You should go be with your friends.’
‘I like to help,’ John smiles.
His dad returns it with a warm smile of his own, ‘You know what? So do I.’
*
Jim’s hand is still unbelievably warm.
‘I have always loved you,’ John begins, ‘But there has always been a difference between us. You never wanted to be better. That’s why I’m never going to be like you. But I still love you. I’ve never been able to stop. I’ve tried to separate you from me, but even now that’s never going to happen. We are connected, because I’m never going to stop loving you, no matter what that makes me.’
John walks out of the room and watches as the nurses and doctors come and take him, still on life support, down to the operating room.
His feet carry him to the front exit, his mind is wondering when they’ll take him off life support and he really will be dead.
A minute goes by before his brain registers it’s Sherlock he’s looking at in front of an open cab. John approaches and Sherlock gets in, leaving the door open for John. John sits and shuts the door as Sherlock says the address.
The cab is silent at first, but then is filled with John’s sobs. He doesn’t know why but he’s not holding anything back and his body shakes with the violence of his tears.
Sherlock looks out the window, watching London pass by as he waits it out.
Author: laurieisme (aka revolution25)
Fandom: BBC Sherlock 2010
Spoilers: TGG, but not the end, the end is different in this fic.
Rating: R for subject matter.
Warning: Violence, swearing, character death.
Summary: Takes place right after A Good Man . John has chosen the man he wants to be, now can he live with that?
Author’s Note: Read A Good Man first, you wont understand what’s going on here if you don’t. This part is just as angst-y as the first one, if you’re looking for kittens sitting on double rainbows of happiness you wont find it here. I will be writing one more of these, in case people are worried with this ending.
Sherlock opens his eyes to a world of blue hues.
The first movement he sees is John swimming away from them.
Wisps of blood are pooling around Moriarty’s head, the movement in the water disturbs them until they dissipate.
He feels a tug on his collar, Lestrade, trying to get him to the surface.
He doesn’t care; all he can do is watch John saving his arch nemesis and thinks back on Moriarty’s words before John arrived.
I’ll burn the heart out of you.
He was right.
*
John pulls Jim up, away from the water.
Jim reaches out to him, trying to bring him closer and John lets him.
John doesn’t know how to say no to him.
Jim finally finds what he’s reaching for, John’s hand.
John right hand goes to the top of Jim’s head, gently stroking, ‘It’s alright. I’ve got you.’
I’ve done this to you, John thinks.
He doesn’t just mean the bomb.
*
John’s feet hit the ground a half a second before his hand and he runs.
His brain doesn’t even process what the sound was that woke him, he just moves towards it.
Most people would run away from loud noises, John runs to them.
He looks down with hazy eyes to see the source, a bundle writhing, trying to get somewhere but not knowing how to do it.
He lifts the mop of black hair out of the crib and checks his nappy. He goes to the kitchen and quickly makes a bottle.
Eager little hands reach up and try and take hold when the bottle is put to its mouth as they try to blink away their earlier tears.
One hand clutches to John’s thumb instead.
‘It’s alright, I’ve got you.’ John smiles as he strokes black hair.
*
The ambulance comes, but John wont let go.
John can’t let go.
They have to work around him.
Before the ambulance leaves John looks out the window and sees Sherlock’s face across the parking lot.
Their eyes connect and don’t break until the ambulance makes a turn and Sherlock is no longer in sight.
He can’t read what Sherlock was thinking, but he feels like it’s the last time he’ll ever see him.
He’s chosen a side after all.
*
A few months after their father dies Harry fumbles her way into the house laughing.
John stands very still hands clenching tightly at his sides.
Jim hides himself behind John.
A woman enters the room, long hair, long chains, long skirt, long limbs motioning inwards.
‘Who wants to give Mummy a hug?’
Harry smiles in triumph at what she brought home.
‘I wish it was you.’ John still kept still, but vibrated with rage, “I wish you were dead and not dad. Actually that’s not true. I just wish you were dead, in a ditch somewhere where you belong.’
‘I decided to come back to try and be a real mother to you three,” She tilts her head to try and look behind John, ‘Is that my little Jimmy?’
‘I don’t know you,’ Jim says into John’s back, trying to get closer to John and further away from the stranger.
‘I’m your mum Jimmy,’ she tries to walk closer but John stops her.
‘It’s always been the three of us it will always be the three of us, we don’t need you. More importantly we don’t want you.’ John raises his voice just a little, more than he wanted to; he never wanted her to see that she’s gotten to him.
‘Harry is happy to see me, aren’t you darling,’ She turns to where her daughter is sprawled on the chair.
‘Harry is drunk off her face, you might as well be a pink elephant,’ John says when Harry’s head rolls into her own lap as she giggles.
‘You just need time. I understand. And don’t worry, I wont sue for custody of Jimmy, anyone can see he’s happiest with his big brother.’
‘I hate you,’ John can feel the rage in him uncoiling and before he can stop it, it’s broken past all of his barriers, ‘I hate you!’
‘John,’ his mother’s voice sounds even calmer than before, ‘Your father would be so disappointed in you. To see you like this?’
Her words cut into his soul and he bleeds.
She can see it written in his eyes, and so subtly no one else sees it; she smiles.
*
‘You can’t go in there, it’s just next of kin,’ The nurse says to Lestrade.
Sherlock turns and looks at Lestrade.
‘Nurse,’ Lestrade addresses her showing his badge, ‘Next of kin is in there now?’
He and Sherlock can plainly see John sitting next to Moriarty’s bed holding his hand through the window on the door.
‘Yeah that’s who’s on the paperwork.’
She leaves and Sherlock hangs onto a wall for support all while watching John’s shoulders through the window.
Lestrade feels useless. He was so close. Sherlock was so close to being really human.
Betrayal will make him revert back to what he was before Watson.
*
‘I know, it’s just, I’m in medical school I can’t really afford a solicitor.’ John pauses and turns his back oh his brother sitting at the kitchen table, ‘I just need to make sure she doesn’t get custody of my brother… I do understand parental rights, I understood it the first forty times you said it but what you don’t seem to understand is that she shouldn’t be allowed to take care of a budgie much less an entire person. Thank you for nothing.’
John slammed the phone down and exhaled before he turned back to Jim.
‘She said she wouldn’t,’ Jim said.
‘She brought it up, which means she will. Don’t worry about it; just finish your maths assignment.’
*
Lestrade enters the room alone, and stands for a moment, unable to figure out where to begin.
‘Just start asking questions.’ John said not looking away from Moriarty.
‘So you heard the name Moriarty and you knew? You didn’t feel the need to share anything with the police.’
‘Sherlock was so obsessed, Jim was too. The game. The game between the two of them.’
‘But the pips, all of it, you knew all of it and you didn’t think that maybe if you shared it you could have saved lives?’
‘I never knew. He never tells me his business. I never ask and he never tells. So I wouldn’t have to know what he’s done. That’s the deal we had.’
‘You and Moriarty?’ Lestrade tries to clarify.
‘Jim and I, yeah.’ John corrects.
John sighs and continues, ‘Moriarty is just some astronomer from the nineteenth century, he always said he grabbed the name out of the sky.’
‘His name isn’t Moriarty?’ Lestrade asks confused.
‘He said Jim Watson won’t strike fear into anyone’s heart. It’s hard to head a criminal organization with that kind of name.’
Lestrade nods and leaves, his feet working with their own brain power because he just feels numb. He takes his phone out when he’s around the corner and sees it’s been on this entire time. He looks at the number dialled and hates himself for not being more observant.
‘Sherlock.’
The line goes dead.
*
It happens the same way it happened when his father died, in the middle of class someone from the office asks to talk to the professor and a moment later they both look back at him.
There isn’t enough air in his lungs, he doesn’t think there ever will be.
The professor motions him towards them and John moves between his classmates not caring at the stares he gets.
‘What is it? Is it Harry?’
‘You should come with me Mister Watson.’ The office assistant says in a calm voice.
‘Who died?’ He can’t even bring himself to say the other name he’s thinking of.
‘I just need you to come with me, there’s a police inspector waiting for you in the office.
He follows wordlessly, trying to ignore the sense of relief he felt when he thought of who else it could be.
*
John breathes a sigh of relief when black eyes open up and meet his. He quickly calls for the nurse and dips a small sponge in water and puts it up to Jim’s lips to suck.
‘Do you want to sit up a little?’ John asks ready to reach behind Jim’s head.
‘You tried to kill me,’ Jim mouths more than says.
John shook his head, ‘No. I tried to stop you.’
Jim smiles, ‘How did it feel to murder my cabbie?’
John feels sick with himself, but he has to answer truthfully, ‘Nothing. I didn’t feel anything.’
Jim’s smile is wider as he takes John’s hand, ‘Like me.’
*
John has one hand around Harry and the other around Jim’s shoulders as the body is lowered in the ground.
‘You got your wish,’ Harry turned her head to John as she sobbed; ‘She died in a ditch just like you asked. I hope you’re happy.’ She turned back to casket.
John turned to look at Jim. Jim turned his head and smiled.
John knew. It was like watching the news and seeing Carl’s face all over again. He wanted to scream this isn’t what he wanted; he’d never really want anyone to die.
He holds on tighter to Jim, and again he does nothing.
*
Sherlock wasn’t doing anything. He was sitting in his chair occupying his mind with nothing.
Mycroft was warned, there hadn’t been an experiment done in a week. Mrs. Hudson was scared out of her mind.
‘This is all for Doctor Watson isn’t it. If he isn’t here I don’t see much point in carrying on like this.’ Mycroft said playing with his umbrella.
‘Married.’
‘I didn’t catch that,’ Mycroft smiled.
‘He was married the whole time I knew him.’ Sherlock said still refusing to concentrate on anything with his eyes.
‘Oh really? To whom pray?’ Mycroft was genuinely curious.
‘Moriarty,’ Sherlock spat.
Mycroft couldn’t help but laugh.
Sherlock finally turned his attention to his brother. ‘What?’
‘You’ve misjudged the situation severely.’ Sherlock still didn’t understand so Mycroft spelled it out for him, ‘Moriarty is not a Watson by marriage but by blood. I assume he tried to get rid of all evidence he ever existed once he started his criminal organization. I have a newfound respect for Doctor Watson, trying to raise such a… problematic brother is something I am keenly aware of myself.’
Sherlock let out a couple of deep breaths and asked, ‘Brother?’
Mycroft smiled indulgently, ‘Little brother, yes.’
Sherlock brought his knees up to his chest, put his head down and started crying.
Mycroft didn’t make any movement or gesture to stop him. He never did.
He just sat in his chair playing with his umbrella and waited it out.
*
John went to go take a shower in the doctor’s locker rooms. Harry was sitting with Jim, who was a day away from leaving the hospital and going straight into jail.
Both of his hands were cuffed to the railings of the bed, he didn’t seem to notice them.
‘You’re not going to turn over a new leaf are you?’ Harry finally asked.
‘Do you expect me to?’ Jim laughed at the thought of it.
‘For John. I mean he nearly killed you, do you know what that’s done to him?’
Jim smiled in a way Harry knew was dangerous, it meant he found whatever was about to happen fun.
‘What about what you’ve done to him?’ Jim said, ‘You’re the oldest, but it’s always been him taking care of the both of us. You with your drunken nights and me with my… proclivities.’
‘I don’t head a crime syndicate.’ Harry said flatly.
‘But you do profit from it. When was the last time you ever had to pay a bar tab? When was the last time you had a job?’ Jim tried to read any real answer from her face, but she just stood silent. ‘Soon John will leave Sherlock and will come take care of me, rightly so as you say he did nearly kill me. Then he can start working for me, he is rather good with a gun, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Why are you doing this?’ she finally chokes out.
‘It has always been the three of us; it will always be the three of us.’
Harry shivers.
Jim smiles.
*
When John is in Afghanistan he feels like his job is to watch people die.
The soldiers that he takes care of are usually not much more than a few chunks of tissue that can still talk and scream about the pain, but will always die.
Those who get sent home usually have a limb or two missing, but much more than just what they physically lost, is gone.
He puts stitches and plasters on but it’s never enough, he never actually heals anyone.
Day after day goes by, and he feels more and more like a soldier first, and a doctor second.
He’s always been good at hurting people, at watching people die; he’s never cured anyone.
In the desert with salt and sand in the air the memory of his father seems to be so far away he wonders if he really existed at all. He feels like he just imagined a good man, someone to try and be like, because now he can’t tell the difference between right and wrong and wonders if there ever was a difference.
*
John pulls the jumper over his head and rubs his hair with the towel once more. Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror he turns to look at himself full on, dropping the towel in the process.
The jumper seems out of place now, like it doesn’t belong. Once, before the pool, when he still had hopes of becoming a good man it was a reminder of what he could be, and like his father it always gave him comfort.
But now he’s different. Sherlock would ask him to leave, if he hadn’t already chucked his things, and he was probably going to be arrested soon.
He took off the jumper and looked down at it, as if it was one his father had and not a poor facsimile.
Hope was wrapped up in a grey jumper. The one thing he ever wanted in life and he had to give it up.
He chose his side, and good men don’t associate with murdering criminal consultants.
His father was always kind, patient, loving; he always knew where the line was. He saw good and evil so clearly, John felt deficient, he was missing something crucial to being human.
Like me Jim had said.
Yes, like Jim.
John put the jumper down, away from him, and left.
*
‘Have you ever needed my help?’ John asks.
‘Why would you ask that?’ Jim comes around his too large desk and sits next to John.
‘I just see all of this,’ John motions around the office, ‘And I think every time you said you were scared or that you needed me, you didn’t did you?’
‘Of course I needed my big brother,’ Jim’s acting affronted, but that’s all it is, an act.
‘You didn’t need me to kill Carl. Or mum. You’ve never really needed me have you? Everything that I helped cover up for you, why was that? Just to make me do things I never wanted to do?’
‘I never forced you to do anything. You were the one that didn’t tell Dad about Carl. You were the one who told Dad I didn’t need to keep going to therapy after what I did to those mice. I never asked for any of that.’
John is unable to look up from the floor, ‘It wouldn’t have helped would it? If you kept going to therapy? You never would have changed.’
‘And therein lies the lesson, we are what we are John, you and I are not as different as you think.’
‘I want to be,’ John says and wants to curl tighter into his jumper.
‘You wont be.’
*
John tries to return to the hospital room, but there are nurses and doctors surrounding Jim, trying to start his heart up again.
Being carried down the hall Harry was fighting the guards, screaming John’s name.
John doesn’t really have a choice, as much as he wants to run, he sits and waits. About fifteen minutes later he sees movement out of the corner of his eye. He looks down the hall to see Sherlock’s dark curls facing away from him.
Even though they don’t talk, they don’t acknowledge each other’s existence, there’s a thread of electricity connecting them. John closes his eyes and clings to it.
Its thirty minutes later when the doctor talks to him.
Harry tried to smother Jim with a pillow.
‘I know this must be difficu-‘
‘Don’t. I’m a doctor, I don’t need your bedside manner, just tell me.’ John says.
John looks at him, you’d want the same.
‘Total brain death. We have him on life support. You are the next of kin, and we need you to tell us we can take him off.’ He pauses but decides to say anyway, ‘He’s healthy, and a match.’
John smiles sadly, ‘I didn’t figure him for an organ donor.’
The doctor looks John in the eyes, he seems to be pleading, ‘You are next of kin.’
‘When?’ John asks.
‘The next on the list has about a week.’
John puts his head in his hands, ‘I’ll need some time.’
‘She’s eight.’
John looks up to see the doctor’s face. He’s unapologetic; of course John would be too if the situation was reversed.
‘My sister just tried to kill my brother and now you want me to finish him off, I’m going to need some time.’
The doctor gives him a sympathetic look, but before he leaves he says, ‘You know as well as I do, he’s already dead.’
*
‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’
‘I want to help people,’ I hurt them so much already, I need to try and even it out.
‘Is there someone you want to be like? Superman? Robin Hood?’
‘I want to be like my dad. He always tells me when something is wrong.’
The entire class falls silent to stare at John.
He must be different than them.
*
‘I’m sorry John.’
Harry is in cuffs in a Scotland Yard interrogation room. John is the only one she’ll talk to. He wonders if she even realizes when she does these awful things to him.
‘I know I’ve never been your big sister, but I had to be, just this once. I had to stop you from getting dragged down further. You’re not the same as us.’
John shakes his head, he doesn’t understand what she’s talking about.
‘Jim and I. We were always like mum. She wasn’t even there but I guess the poison was in there from the start.’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ John tries to hold back the tears but it’s getting harder every second he passes in that room.
‘You were trying to protect us,’ tears are rolling unchecked down her face, ‘You were always trying to save us from ourselves. Keep us safe from the outside world.’
John puts his head down on the table trying not to cry in the full view of Scotland Yard.
‘That’s why you did those things, I know that. I always hated myself for needing you to do that… to sacrifice all that,’ Harry kisses the back of his head and rests her own on his, ‘You’re like dad. I know you don’t see it, but you are. I know it’s always seemed so far away, and I know that it’s my fault but… You can be a good man.’
John lifts his head and clutches to his sister.
She doesn’t know all that he’s done, what he still has to do, he knows she’s wrong.
In his heart he feels a faint flicker of hope rise up from the darkness.
*
‘You don’t have to do so much John,’ His father wraps his warm hand around him, ‘You should go be with your friends.’
‘I like to help,’ John smiles.
His dad returns it with a warm smile of his own, ‘You know what? So do I.’
*
Jim’s hand is still unbelievably warm.
‘I have always loved you,’ John begins, ‘But there has always been a difference between us. You never wanted to be better. That’s why I’m never going to be like you. But I still love you. I’ve never been able to stop. I’ve tried to separate you from me, but even now that’s never going to happen. We are connected, because I’m never going to stop loving you, no matter what that makes me.’
John walks out of the room and watches as the nurses and doctors come and take him, still on life support, down to the operating room.
His feet carry him to the front exit, his mind is wondering when they’ll take him off life support and he really will be dead.
A minute goes by before his brain registers it’s Sherlock he’s looking at in front of an open cab. John approaches and Sherlock gets in, leaving the door open for John. John sits and shuts the door as Sherlock says the address.
The cab is silent at first, but then is filled with John’s sobs. He doesn’t know why but he’s not holding anything back and his body shakes with the violence of his tears.
Sherlock looks out the window, watching London pass by as he waits it out.